They say when life closes one door, another one opens.
This door happens to lead to paradise.
And a man I can never, ever have.
Still grieving the loss of her sister who died two years ago, the last thing Veronica “Ronnie” Locke needed was to lose her job at one of Chicago’s finest restaurants and have to move back in with her parents. So when a window of opportunity opens for her – running a kitchen at a small Hawaiian hotel – she’d be crazy not to take it.
The only problem is, the man running the hotel drives her crazy:
It doesn’t matter that he’s got dark brown eyes, a tall, muscular build that’s sculpted from daily surfing sessions, and a deep Australian accent that makes your toes curl.
What does matter is that he’s a grump.
Kind of an asshole, too.
And gets under Ronnie’s skin like no one else.
But the more time Ronnie spends on the island of Kauai, falling in love with the lush land and its carefree lifestyle, the closer she gets to Logan. And the closer she gets to Logan, the more she realizes she may have pegged him all wrong. Maybe it’s the hot, steamy jungles or the invigorating ocean air, but soon their relationship becomes utterly intoxicating.
There’s just one major catch.
The two of them together would incite a scandal neither Ronnie, nor her family, would ever recover from.
Forbidden, Illicit, off-limits – sometimes the heat is worth surrendering to, even if you get burned.
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I saw him first.
It shamed me to think it then, it shames me to think it now.
But that’s what the truth does to you sometimes. It shames you because it’s only in the truth that you realize how human you really are. What a raw, devastating thing that is, to embrace your humanity and learn to live with all your sharp points, the hollow places, the cracks and the crevices. To be utterly real. To be terribly flawed.
Those cracks had always been forming inside me, slowly making their way to the surface over the years. In my family, there wasn’t much you could do but try and hold yourself together, to stick glue on your wounds, to paste over the imperfections. But the cracks still grew, until all of us were held together by crumbling cement, just statues waiting to collapse.
That was years and years ago. I was just twenty-two at the time. A baby. I’m still a baby in the grand scheme of things, but there’s something precious about your early twenties, where you think you’re so much older, bigger, than you are, where life is just about to deliver the crushing blows that will knock you off your feet for the rest of your days. The small things become the big things and the big things become the small things and you aren’t quite sure when they made the switch.
But in the end, I saw him first. He was mine, even before he knew it. He was mine in some strange way that I still don’t understand. The only way I can think of to explain it is…
You just know.
There are moments in your life, people in your life, that when they cross your path and meet your eye, you know. Maybe it’s all in the chemistry, certain pheromones that react when they mix together, maybe it’s a smell that triggers a memory, maybe it’s a glimpse at a future you don’t recognize or a hint at the past, a life you’ve lived and forgotten. Whatever it is, you know that moment, that person, is going to shape you for the rest of your life.
That’s what it was like when I saw him. Standing over by the windows and staring out Lake Michigan, like he was wishing he could be anywhere but there.
I wished the same. My mother’s the deputy mayor of Chicago and this was another one of her fundraisers I felt obliged to attend. It was tradition in my family, for my father, for me, for my sister, to show up and wave the flag of support. It didn’t seem to matter that the stuffy politicians that surrounded these events never paid me any attention. And if they did, it was the wrong kind of attention, always the sixty-year-old man leering after the young thing with the nice smile.
Luckily I didn’t smile all that often. My resting bitch face took over whenever I was deep in thought, which was pretty much all the time.
But this guy…I felt a kinship with him. I felt like I knew exactly what he was thinking, feeling, and that it was completely wrapped up in and connected to everything that was going through me.
I don’t know where I found the nerve to go over and talk to him. He seemed so much older, not quite the sixty-year-old politicians I was used to seeing, but maybe in his early-thirties. More than that, there was some kind of aura around him. Sounds stupid, I know. Whatever it was, it was like he belonged in some whole other universe than here, a star on earth, permanently grounded and yearning to be in the sky.
It was usually Juliet’s job to go around and make everyone feel warm and comfortable at these events—hell, in every event—but she wasn’t here yet. And though I could have easily stayed in the shadows, I was pulled to him, like he had a wave of gravity whirling around him.
I remember what I was wearing. Strappy flats because I hated wearing heels, a knee-length cocktail dress in emerald green, sleeveless, high-neck. It made me look older and I wore it because my mother always wanted me to look like a lady.
With a glass of champagne in hand, I made my way over to the windows, my heart racing the closer I got to him. He looked taller up close, well over six feet. His shoulders were broad, like a swimmer’s, and suddenly I had a vision of him diving into the lake. The navy blue suit he was wearing looked well-tailored but he seemed uncomfortable in it, like he couldn’t wait to get rid of it.
I stood beside him for a moment, following his gaze out the window. He seemed lost in his thoughts but out of my peripheral his head tilted slightly and he brought his eyes over to me while I kept staring at that wide expanse of water, stretching out to the horizon.
“Can’t wait to get out of here?” I asked, but though my tone was mild, my delivery was bold. It was as if someone else had taken a hold of my body, forcing me to speak. I slowly turned my head to meet his eyes.
I was taken aback for a second. He was staring at me like he knew me, even though I’d never seen him before. Then again, I was sure I’d been staring at him in the same way. That feeling of knowing. He knew me, I knew him, and who the hell knows how that was possible.
His eyes were brown—are brown—dark with currents of gold and amber, giving them beautiful clarity. Slightly almond shaped. His brows were also dark, arched, adding to the intensity of his gaze. He’s the type of guy whose eyes latch onto you, dig deep, trying to sift through the files of your life, see who you really are.
“How did you know?” he asked, a full-on Australian accent rumbling through his gruff voice. It made my stomach flip, my core smolder. How deed you now, is what it sounded like. Funny how I stopped hearing the accent after time.
I gave a half shrug and looked back to the party. More people had flooded the room, mingling around the appetizers. My mother was in the corner, a crowd of politicians around her. She didn’t see me. She never did.
“Because I think I’d rather be in the middle of Lake Michigan too,” I told him, “then be stuck here with all these people.”
“These people,” he repeated. My focus was drawn to his lips, full, wide, tilting up into a smirk. Beneath them was a strong chin and even sharper jaw, dusted with a five o’clock shadow that seemed permanent, like the man couldn’t get a clean shave even if he tried. “How do you know I’m not one of these people?”
“Because you’re over here and not over there. How come you keep answering my questions with more questions?”
He studied me for a moment. My blood pounded in my head and I felt a giddy kind of thrill at how this was progressing. If anything, I was proud for holding my own with this handsome stranger. He was the first man I ever really felt at ease with.
He cleared his throat, offered me a quick smile before he nodded at the lake, his hands sliding into his pockets. “She almost looks like the ocean, doesn’t she?”
“Not quite the same as Australia, I would imagine.”
“No hiding this accent, is there?” He glanced at me and stuck out his hand, which I shook for a moment, warm palm to warm palm. “I’m Logan Shepard. Australian. And the reason I’m here is because I was invited by a friend of mine. I’m only in town for a few days and he didn’t want to go alone. He’s over there.” He nodded at a tall black man in the corner, listening intently to another man.
“Warren Jones,” he said, as if I should know him. Perhaps I should. He probably thought I was one of them. “He’s local and the key piece to my investment.”
I wasn’t one for business talk—I never had anything to contribute other than lamenting student loans—but I wanted him to keep talking. “What’s your investment?”
“Starting my own hotel,” he said. “In Hawaii. Have you ever been there?”
“Once. When I was eight. I think we were in Honolulu. I remember a city, anyway. Waikiki Beach.”
“This hotel is in Kauai. The Garden Isle. Went there once as a teenager and couldn’t get it out of my mind.”
I didn’t know the right things to say. I wanted to ask more about the hotel, what it means when you have an investor, but I didn’t want to appear dumb. I kept my mouth shut.
“You haven’t introduced yourself,” he said. “Protecting a secret identity?”
I smiled, close-lipped. “Not really. I’m Veronica Locke. American. And I unfortunately I don’t have much else to add to that.”
“Locke?” he repeated, eyes darting to my mother. “Are you the daughter of the deputy mayor, Rose Locke?”
“One of them,” I told him.
He nodded quickly. “I see. No wonder you’d rather be in the middle of the bloody lake. I bet you have to do this stuff all the time.”
“It’s not so bad.” I took a sip of my drink so I didn’t have to say anything more and looked away at the crowd. The bubbles teased my nose, making my eyes water.
I could feel his gaze on me as he spoke. “I’m sure you have plenty more to say about yourself though. Where do you work? Student?”
“Culinary arts,” I told him. “I’m one of those crazy people who dream of being a chef one day.”
He frowned. “Why is that crazy?”
I gave him a look, forgetting that most people have no idea how hard it is. “Because it’s a long road, long hours, and nothing is guaranteed. People think being a chef is easy. They see Gordon Ramsey or Nigella Lawson and think it’s all fame and food and money and they have no idea what it’s really like. I’m not even out of school and already I feel half-beaten.”
He was still frowning. He did that a lot, I would soon learn. “Sounds like life to me.” His eyes dropped to my lips and something intensely carnal came over them, like suddenly I was the food, not the wannabe chef. “Did you want to get a drink somewhere. After this? When you’ve done your daughterly duties?”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t know what a drink meant. Just a drink? A date? Was it sex? I started going through my head, trying to think of reasons why it was a bad idea. My legs were shaved, did my bra and underwear match? Did I have a condom? I had taken the pill this morning, even though my last boyfriend and I had broken up months ago. I hadn’t been with a guy, let alone a man, in a long time.
Don’t flatter yourself, I quickly thought. What makes you think he’d be interested in you that way?
“Yes,” I said when I finally found my voice. “Yes, I would like that.”
A spark flashed in his eyes, lighting them up in such a way that made my toes literally curl. Damn. I was in trouble with this man. “Any way you can get out of your duties sooner?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but smile, raising my brow at his presumptuousness, while simultaneously trying to hide the fact that I was freaking out. I looked around the room and tried to judge how likely it was that someone would notice if I was gone. My mom was still surrounded by a wall of people and no one was paying any attention to us, standing by the windows, already removed.
A sad thought hit me, sliding past before I could really dwell on it: no one even notices when I’m here.
“If we’re quick and sneaky,” I told him.
“Being quick isn’t in my repertoire,” he said, “but I could give it a shot.”
Again. Damn. I wasn’t one to blush but I could feel my cheeks heating up and hoped my skin supressed the flush. He was so much older than me in so many ways, the last thing I wanted was to appear the naïve schoolgirl.
And I didn’t know what to say to that. He was staring at me with those dark eyes, a look so intense yet sparkling with charm and something…wicked.
I’d never find out how wicked they could be.
“Ronnie!” A melodic, ultra-feminine voice sliced through the moment like an unwieldy machete, causing me to flinch, my fingers tightening around the stem of the glass.
Oh no, I thought. Not now.
Logan’s head swiveled toward the sound of the voice, like a hound picking up a scent. I didn’t bother looking over, I kept my focus on him, watching his expression intently. It changed, as I knew it would.
She had walked into the room.
He saw her.
And like it was for so many men, that look of lust I had thought was for me, was now for her.
That’s when I knew it was over. Whatever thing I had felt for him, it didn’t matter anymore, not when she was in the room. Nothing ever mattered as long as she was around.
I might have saw him first.
But he was all hers after that.
This book was unexpected. Veronica and Logan. Some of it was formulaic. Some went off road a bit. Definitely an interesting story. She was the unloved sister lost in the perfect dazzle of her older sister, Juliet. Her mother is a politician, image is everything. Veronica is too passionate to be perfect. After the death of her perfect sister, her parents, especially her mother, canonize Juliet. The cloud of St. Juliet smothers Veronica. She loses her job and living with her parents is the stuff of nightmares. So, she accepts a job in Hawaii….working for Logan.
I’ve seen reviews calling this a second chance romance but there was never a romance between them in the first place. Just a sliver of a promise of one. She sees him 7 years ago and is immediately drawn to him. She thinks he is feeling it too…but, in the next moment, Veronica has a front-row seat, watching Logan fall for someone else. He is truly the guy she can’t have.
Deep dive. Fast forward 7 years. No spoilers! Veronica moves to Hawaii because she needs a job. Grieving, she leaves the shadow of her sister behind in Chicago to then fall under the shadow of Logan’s former wife. She fights her attraction to Logan and with his former wife always present in some way, it felt like a triangle. I don’t like triangles. Any relationship between them would be taboo, scandalous. I’m not going to tell you why, read the book.
Logan isn’t nice to Veronica, other than giving her a job. He isn’t nice to anyone though. His staff makes it clear to her that he is a grump. The secondary characters were great and definitely pushed the story along.
Logan and Veronica then give in to temptation. Logan lightens up a bit and you see another side of him. Veronica, who was rejected by her parents, by her sister, and by the promise of Logan, craves his love and acceptance. Is she weak for wanting someone who once rejected her or is she strong for going for what she wants? You decide.
I can’t say too much about Logan and his feelings without giving away too much of the story. I will say “they” say you can’t chose who you love, and while it seems she has no choice, he did. He states over and over he loved the person he chose 7 years ago. That stays with me the entire story. I can’t get past it. Yet, the best part of the story was their romance. The two of them together was magic. Chemistry was off the charts. Surfing singing scene. Awesome. Logan is Australian and a bit bossy, it was wonderful.
Argh! Am I too romantic? I dunno. I can’t process why he would have chosen anyone else if Veronica was the one. He explains it, I just can’t get there. She feels like Plan B. With all we know about him, he’s passion, his drive, his dreams, why would he have chosen what he described as “safe?”
I love the happy ending. I do. Any other ending and I would be pissed. And the writing, so perfect, so colorful. Lush like the Hawaiian location. My issue is I could not relate to either character’s choices prior to them getting together. Logan originally settled for less when more was right in front of him. And, no matter what, Veronica is and will always be, his second choice. He would still be with his wife if she had not “left” him.
What should you take away from all this I’m saying? This book got a big reaction from me. I felt it. It was not a straight up, feel good, all ends sunshiney happy and all is forgiven, all wounds healed story. Nope. It was real.
Karina Halle is a former travel writer and music journalist and The New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Bestselling author of The Pact, Racing the Sun, Sins & Needles and over 25 other wild and romantic reads. She lives on an island off the coast of British Columbia with her husband and her rescue pup, where she drinks a lot of wine, hikes a lot of trails and devours a lot of books.
Halle is represented by the Waxman Leavell Agency and is both self-published and published by Simon & Schuster and Hachette in North America and in the UK.
Hit her up on Instagram at @authorHalle, on Twitter at @MetalBlonde and on Facebook. You can also visit www.authorkarinahalle.com and sign up for the newsletter for news, excerpts, previews, private book signing sales and more.