Blurb
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: Logan Shephard. 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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Exclusive Excerpt
PROLOGUE
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.
Title: Heat Wave
Author: Karina Halle
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series or Standalone: Standalone
Rating: ★★★★★
Reviewer: Diane
Wow! What an amazing
story this was. This 5 star awesomeness kept me reading for hours on out. I
just couldn't seem to want to put it down for very long.
Veronica needs a
change of scenery so she takes a job offer in the paradise island of Hawaii as
a chef. The only problem is she will come face to face with her past, Logan the
hotel owner where she will work. They can't help who they love even if in the
eyes of others it would be scandalous. Can they work through it and find their
HEA?
This story is is like
any forbidden, scandalous love story out there. But what makes this story stand
out is the beautifully, clear description of the paradise, Hawaii. The author
obviously as done her researches because I felt like I was there and I want to
go. I also felt I was taking part of their culture. I usually find those kinds
of details rather long and boring in books. But they were combined with scenes
that involved the characters. It made it so romantic. I really loved these
characters. The moody, broody Logan to the don't take crap from anyone Ronnie.
Even the secondary characters played an important role in the development of
the story.
This is a standalone
with an HEA. I strongly recommend this story. Also I've enjoyed all of Karina's
other titles also.
ABOUT KARINA HALLE
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.
LINKS:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MetalBlonde
AMAZON AUTHOR
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