Camassia Cove - La série

For as long as I can remember, I've only had one goal: survival. It's what I know. There is no future beyond making it through another night and getting my hands on as much money as possible, by any means necessary. Pride and dignity are things I can't afford. It's been the worst year yet—and not because I live on the streets. That's nothing compared to being separated from my little girl. But I do what I can, and I send any money I make for her care. I can only hope she remembers me. I'm past desperate, needing her to know how much I love her and that I've done everything in my power to make it back to her. The day I stepped off the bus in Seattle, I saw him. Adrian appeared at a time I most needed a helping hand, and his habit of rescuing strays became my salvation. He gave me hope. He taught me to dream about something I'd never dared to wish for. A home.

Will Adrian one day understand that our girl can be a little troll? Probably not. In his eyes, Thea can do no wrong. You would think, since he works with kids, he’d see the difference between her anxiety issues and a well-planned tantrum to get what she wants, but whatever. It’s okay. I can be the disciplinarian, I guess. He’ll continue to make funny faces with her and tell her to be good, and I’ll make sure it happens. Like a boss. My li’l gangsta isn’t the reason I lose sleep a couple days of the week, though. It’s work. Wednesdays and Thursdays can blow me. On the flipside, it feels hella good to have these mundane problems. Makes me feel normal. Of course, that’s until my buddy tells me I’ve waited long enough and it’s time to turn my boyfriend into my husband. Then I start losing sleep ‘cause I’m a fuckin’ head case of nerves.

At ten years old, Kelly and I were two rambunctious boys who carved our initials into a tree in the forest. We promised to be best friends forever and bumped our fists to seal the deal. I never should've kissed him that summer before college. It was a day that buried me in shame, a day I spent the next twenty-four years regretting, a day I never told anyone about. At forty-three, depression was suffocating me. Not even my wife and two children could lift the heavy fog. I was riddled with guilt and self-hatred, and I was starting to realize that I would slowly fade away until nothing remained. Then one day, Kelly was back in town. 10% of the proceeds will be donated to Hope For Depression.

The first time Adeline Ivey danced into my life, high on ecstasy instead of life, was at the party before the kickoff of our seventh tour. I spotted her out on the lawn, a gorgeous girl spinning around in circles with her arms wide and a big smile directed at the Los Angeles sky. We shared an insane summer on the road, surrounded by sex, drugs, and rock n' roll—a combination that could only end in disaster. That was ten years ago. The world has forgotten Lincoln Hayes, rock god and guitarist in Path of Destruction. As the date of my parole hearing approaches, I'm nothing but a number in the system of the Michigan Department of Corrections. And as much as I want to forget the events of that summer and move on, the girl I can't get out of my head is trying to make an encore appearance in my life.

This was a mistake. Flying all the way to Washington to see Dad's old college friend, who has reluctantly offered to help me with my writing after the world tore my first novel to shreds...big, big mistake. One, Jack Grady is lethally handsome. Two, he doesn't mince words, and he absolutely hates my novel. But here I am, and I'm his for the weekend. Maybe in more ways than one, which would be totally inappropriate. —Isla Roe. ...two love stories. Shock can be good or bad. It can be a good shock to discover you're going to be a father at eighteen. This isn't that kind of shock. This is bad. Several weeks after she was supposed to return home, one justifiably infuriated father makes his way to northern Washington. That would be me. Checking in at Cedar Inn, I think of ways to confront Jack and Isla —until I spot a familiar face from my childhood on the other side of the desk. But it can't be her, can it? My God, she's beautiful. I wonder how she'd react if she knew I've written a book about her. —Aiden Roe.

When life gave you lemons, you learned who stayed and made lemonade with you. Or something to that effect. And the day Ellis Hayes kidnapped me—or, he borrowed a yacht and didn’t know I was on board—he'd definitely been handed too many lemons. We faced a dilemma when I woke up hungover in the middle of the ocean. He needed to get the hell out of town to do some soul searching and decide whether or not to divorce his wife, and I needed to get back on land because humans didn't belong on the water. There was also better cell service on land, and I had my four-year-old daughter on vacation in Paris to check in with. Then I remembered I wasn’t a complete tool. Ellis wasn’t doing all right, and we were practically family. I had to stay and make lemonade with him. Of course, me being me, seemingly un-dateable and complicated, I had to develop feelings for him, too.

I was my own worst enemy. For as much as I depended on order and a structured life to easier manage my bipolar disorder, fire was irresistible and indisputably my favorite toy to play with. On the ice, it turned me into a hotheaded hockey player. In the bedroom, my attitude was my last defense, a front I wanted to see tumbling down. But lately, all I got was burned. Love sucked. Correction: it sucked when you were in love with your parents’ closest friend and he didn’t feel the same. I admitted my feelings for Madigan Monroe over a year ago, and I was still waiting for a response. Now my balance was gone. My anxiety was all over the place, my fits of rage had just earned me a suspension from the team, I questioned myself at every turn, and being home for two weeks was gonna make it impossible to avoid Madigan. I used to be his Abel, his sweetheart, his trouble. It’d been the two of us against the world since I was a kid. I’d even discovered we had kink in common! On paper, I was seemingly perfect for him. Maybe that was why his nonverbal rejection hurt so much. Or maybe it was because, recently, he seemed hell-bent on us “being friends” again. Whatever. I was a loser, and I couldn’t resist him for crap.

Belle has a wicked fantasy and a secret desire, and she doesn’t know how to hide her feelings anymore. Andrew has a passion for family and a love for detail, and there are no words that can describe how much he’s looking forward to having his stepdaughter and his younger brother home for the summer. Jace has an eye for beauty and a thirst for adventure, and he’s the first one to notice that something is different when Belle steps off the plane. From the outside, these three don’t seem to have much in common. But on the inside…their hearts are as dirty as they come.

My sister asked me if I could stand the sight my own reflection, if I’d caused enough damage yet, but I didn’t see myself when I looked into the mirror. I saw Kieran standing behind me, pressing a kiss to my shoulder while he undid my belt. I saw everything I wanted that I couldn’t have. Not unless I was prepared to hurt everyone around me. Kieran was in a similar situation. Were we monsters or men? Were they one and the same? Did we give a flying f—hell. We did care. Just not enough to stop, not enough to walk away, and I knew we constantly asked ourselves the same question because of it. If we could go back to when we met on the train…if we could erase the deceit, erase our first hello…would we?

Alessia on Adam He’s a feeling. His energy is a force that makes an impact whether you want it to or not. He’s charming, easygoing, and loved by everyone. Especially me. He’s been the love of my life since I was a fifteen-year-old summer camper and he was a burned-out chef volunteering to make sloppy joes in the dining hall. Unfortunately, he has a type. Tall, thin, and gorgeous. And I’m...none of those things. I’m the friend. The roommate. The one he runs a restaurant with. Adam on Alessia She’s my past, my present, and my future. She’s my muse. I cook with her tastes in mind. I cook for her. But, as my brother points out, she won’t be my future if I don’t come clean about the fact that I’ve been hung up on her for years. Coming clean might not be a choice at this rate, though. If I see Alessia on another goddamn dating app, I’m gonna lose my shit. I physically can’t stay away from her any longer, even if I risk losing everything we’ve built together. The Objective The sexiest Valentine’s Day menu ever created. And maybe, just maybe, fingers aren’t the only thing getting licked after this meal. Buon Appetito!

I never intended to be a Daddy. Well…not that kind anyway. Fate had other plans, and this tantrum-throwing, heart-melting toddler is now mine to raise. As the CEO of a multinational hotel chain, I’m used to people taking orders from me, but that is not on her to-do list. No matter how much I love her, being a parent to Julia is not the joy and delight portrayed on social media. Then I hear his voice on the radio. Peyton Scott. I rejoice that someone out there gets it, and I will stop at nothing to have him under me. Professionally, naturally. All right, it’s possible I can’t resist going further. The terms of his employment are a little…unconventional. But if Peyton signs on the dotted line, I believe I can give him all the things he never knew he needed. He’ll help me learn how to be a better daddy to my little girl, and I’ll teach him how to be the best Little Boy for his Daddy.

I didn’t know what to say. Writing a dating profile would force me to come to terms with the fact that I’d officially become one of those people who had to say, “It’s complicated.” And maybe that wasn’t entirely correct; I had come to terms with everything, but I doubted a man would touch my baggage with a ten-foot pole, much less his own approximately seven-inch one. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want any kind of pole near my complicated mess. I was finally happy on my own. In fact, I was rocking this whole divorce thing. I was free. My ex-husband and I had a good thing going on. We remained close, we raised our rambunctious son and our hormonal daughter together, and I’d just moved into my dream house. I was going to cruise through the rest of my forties with a glass of wine in my hand and no one to answer to. No, the dating market could wait. I had work, I had my kids, I had my health. I had an ex-husband who’d just gotten engaged to another man, an ex-husband who was telling me that Mason, his older brother, was moving back to town. On my street, to boot. Now, that was a pole I shouldn’t be thinking about.

I’d craved an ending for as long as I could remember. An ending to the crippling hurt, the blinding rage, and this sense of confusion and loss. I didn’t know who I was. I had no identity. I just hated. Until her. With one small flame after another, she lit up my path toward redemption and showed me a life worth living. It was how our love story began—without fanfare. Just a flicker in the dark.