Slammed by Kelly Jamieson
He never saw love coming…until it crashed into him.
San Amaro Singles, Book 3
Brooke Lowry has a mission: fly to Tahiti, pluck PR nightmare Dylan Schell out of whatever party he’s in, bring him home and clean up his image.
It was her idea for Jackson Cole clothing company to sponsor the pro surfer. But the chances of saving this deal—and her career—look pretty slim when she finds the sexy party boy “shooting the curl” with two beach bunnies.
Dylan is finally getting back on track, and the next big event would put him over the top…if it wasn’t being held in San Amaro, where he’d be forced to watch his best friends Matt and Corey tie the knot and move on without him.
He’ll do anything to keep that from happening, including taking shameless advantage of a tropical cyclone—three days cut off from civilization—to distract the lovely Brooke into his bed.
Despite her moment or three of weakness, Brooke won’t be deterred. And suddenly Dylan finds himself facing a lot of things—his hometown, his past, and something he didn’t see coming. Love.
Warning: Check it, dude, this book contains a bad boy surfer who gets slammed by fierce waves but gets back up, a buttoned-up woman who learns to chillax, and some righteous shreddin’ the gnarl.
Dylan leaned casually against the bar and guzzled down half the bottle of icy cold brew. Damn, that was good. “So what’s up, buttercup?” he said, lifting one eyebrow.
Her mouth tightened. “I really think this conversation is one you want to have with your clothes on.”
Alarm bells went off in his head. “What conversation is that, sweetheart?”
“Please don’t call me sweetheart. This is business. Fine, if you want to do this here and now, let’s do it.” She drew in a breath and looked up at the ceiling briefly. “Head office sent me to talk to you about your recent conduct.”
“My conduct?” His insides contracted.
“Yes. Your exploits have made it into the news, which has gotten back to the executives at Jackson Cole. They are not pleased, to put it mildly.”
He kept his face neutral. He hoped. “What ‘exploits’ would those be?” he asked, his voice bland.
“Things like group sex in the middle of the afternoon.”
He narrowed his eyes at her again and lifted the bottle. “Hey. We were in the privacy of my bungalow and you came barging in. What I do on my own time in my own bedroom is my business.”
Her cheeks pinkened again and those dark eyes flashed sparks. He wanted to grin. Yet somehow he knew this wasn’t going to be funny.
“Other things then,” she conceded. “The drunken partying. The orgies that people do know about. The dope-smoking and nudity on the beach. We’ve managed to smooth things over with the media on some of the other things you’ve done, not the least of which was being arrested for that Quantas Flight having to turn back to Sydney.”
His back teeth ground together a little at the mention of that. Yeah, that hadn’t been one of his more epic moments, even he had to admit. It had all just been in fun, a little flirting with the flight attendants, and yeah, he’d had a few beers, but Jesus, they’d totally overreacted by turning the plane around. It wasn’t as if he was dangerous, for fuck’s sake.
Suddenly being naked didn’t feel quite so comfortable, and he set down the beer on the bar and reached for the board shorts draped over the nearby chair. He stepped into them and quickly tied them loose and low on his hips.
Brooke’s gaze dropped briefly once more, tracking over his abs and the shorts, then jerked back up to his face. “For God’s sake, take those off,” she snapped.
“Uh…” He gave his head a little shake. “Okay, sure sweetheart, but I thought you wanted me dressed.”
“Those are Billabong shorts!” she snapped. “You can’t be seen wearing the competition! Do you have some kind of death wish, or what?”
Her words made his insides leap and he stared at her.
“Where did you get those anyway?” she demanded. “Why would you even have them?”
He looked down at them blankly. “I don’t know where I got them,” he said shortly, fingers fumbling with the ties. He let them drop to the floor, kicked them aside and strode over to the dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and grabbed a pair of shorts. He had a fucking hundred pairs of them and he was pretty sure most of them were Jackson Cole. He stepped into the shorts, this pair a black and white flowered pattern. He picked up the offending garment and held it over the waste basket, catching her eye and then dropping it in.
“That’s better,” she said. “Geez.”
“My deepest apologies,” he said in a dry voice. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Who knew my nudity would be less offensive than a pair of board shorts made by the competition.” He held out a hand to the small sofa and chair. “Have a seat. Sure you don’t want a drink? I have water, pop…”
“No thanks.” She did move toward the sofa and took a seat, perching stiffly on the edge.
He took a seat too, on the chair adjacent, and gave her one of his most charming smiles. “So, I’m in trouble.”
She eyed him for a few seconds then jerked her chin. “Yes, Dylan. You’re in trouble.”
Great. Just fucking great.
Q: Romance readers have a lot of choices these days. What makes Slammed stand out in the crowd?
A: There seems to be a lot of interest lately in pro athlete heroes – I’ve seen it with my Heller Brothers hockey books – but Dylan Schell is a different kind of athlete. He’s a professional surfer, who travels the world to exotic locations like Tahiti and Australia and France, conquering the biggest, most dangerous waves in the world. And, he’s a wounded bad boy hero, which readers also seem to love.
Q: We like to include our favorite quote in our reviews of the books we read. What is your favorite quote from Slammed?
A: My favorite quote from Slammed is:
Another knock on the door startled him. Dylan glanced at Holden but rose to his feet and crossed to the door. When he opened it, Corey and Matt stood there.
“Whoa,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“We heard the news,” Matt said. “Is it true?”
“No, it’s not fucking true.”
“So there wasn’t a positive drug test? They said on the news it was unconfirmed.”
Dylan sighed. “Yeah, there was a positive drug test. Apparently. Come in.”
He stepped aside so they could enter the room. They both wore identical expressions of concern. “Why are you here?” he asked again.
“Because we’re your friends and we came to support you, asshole,” Matt said.
About Kelly Jamieson
Kelly Jamieson is a best-selling author of over twenty-five romance novels and novellas. Her writing has been described as “emotionally complex”, “sweet and satisfying” and “blisteringly sexy”.
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