Chasing Swells

By Nikki Chartier

Summertime visits with her dad is Kaia Anderson’s favorite part of the year. With the recent retirement of long-time tour surfer Neil Harper, her surf-coach dad has been frothing for the next surf star to call upon him. Unfortunately, this new surf star has overlapped with Kaia’s plans, which have been relocated to St. Catalina Island - a remote tropical paradise with choppy cell service, little Wi-Fi, and no connection to the California summer she’d dreamed of.

If it can be damaged, Dominic Richardson has probably had his hand on it. His reputation, his family’s name, and his longstanding friendship with the Great White Surf crew have all been ruined. Surfing the best swells on the planet with a stellar coach in his corner, Dominic’s slowly revamped his surf career and his family’s reputation. The only thing he’s missing is his former surf crew, the West Coast Hooligans.

Kaia is over Dominic before she even meets him. She doesn’t appreciate a spoiled, rich kid uprooting her summer, but Dominic doesn’t play into Kaia’s agenda to prove she’s right about him. He’s determined to be on his very best behavior and prove to everyone that he’s not the guy in the tabloids - and he might just make Kaia believe in him too.
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Follow Dominic on his road to redemption and meet his surf coach's daughter in this enemies-to-lovers romance!

Dive into the world of Great White Surf in Crescent Cove, California! Fall in love, find your tribe, chase your dreams, and live like Shark in this YA/NA contemporary coming of age series!

Fans of Outer Banks and Surviving Summer will love this friend-focused series with glimpses of romance, surf culture, and beach vibes!

Great White Surf Saga
Chasing Forever Down (#1)
Rough Waters (#2)
Always Summer (#3)
With You Around (#4)
Deep Blue Forever (#5)
Chasing Swells (#6)
Chasing Aloha (#7)
Chasing Islands (#8)
More books coming soon!

**Note: This book can be read as a stand alone novel, but reading it along with the rest of the series (for context) will make it more enjoyable.**

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sapphire Hollow Press
• Release date: May 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463922705

Nikki Chartier

Nikki Chartier is a dream chaser, caffeine addict, and young adult/new adult contemporary author. Her books are often about surfers, musicians, and relationships. She is an avid surf fan who always wants Gabriel Medina to win and prefers cold weather although most of her books are set in beach towns. She lives in the southern USA with her awesome husband and adorable pup.

Book preview

Chasing Swells

Nikki Chartier

Copyright © 2020 by Nikki Chartier

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This novel contains segments of the previously published novella of the same name, as well as published under the author’s maiden name, Nikki Godwin. This book was previously part of the West Coast Hooligans series.

For the underdogs and the hometown heroes

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Chasing Forever Down, book #1

Rough Waters, book #2

Always Summer, book #3

With You Around, book #4

Deep Blue Forever, book #5

Chasing Swells, book #6

Chasing Aloha, book #7

Chasing Islands, book #8

More coming soon!

Contents

1.Chapter 1

2.Chapter 2

3.Chapter 3

4.Chapter 4

5.Chapter 5

6.Chapter 6

7.Chapter 7

8.Chapter 8

9.Chapter 9

10.Chapter 10

11.Chapter 11

12.Chapter 12

13.Chapter 13

14.Chapter 14

15.Chapter 15

16.Chapter 16

17.Chapter 17

18.Chapter 18

19.Chapter 19

Epilogue

Thank You!

Acknowledgments

About the Author

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Kaia

I cram my luggage into the back of Dad’s van and slam the door shut, just for good measure. I cut my eyes in his direction, but he can’t see my evil glare through my sunglasses. It doesn’t matter, though. Dad knows I’m pissed. 

If you want to stay, this is your last chance to say it, Dad says, shielding his eyes with his hand from the early morning sun. I’d love to have you with me, but if you would rather stay with your mom, I won’t force you to go.

It’s not that I don’t want to be with Dad this summer. I just don’t want to go on this trip. I wanted this to be another Dad/Kaia summer where I lounged in the pool all day and snuck out for crazy parties with the locals at night. Dad would spend his days watching surf events, yelling at the screen about better ways to land aerial maneuvers and how that turn would’ve been better had the guy ditched the fins. At night, he’d light up the back deck with twinkle lights and fire up the grill, blissfully unaware that I would be sneaking out through my bedroom window once he retired for the night. 

That’s what summer with Dad is. It’s the smell of charcoal and the taste of fruity drinks. It’s the splash of pool water and the annoyance of tan lines. It’s salty ocean air, beach waves in my hair, and living up that ‘wild and free’ hippie life with the California locals for two months. 

I don’t want to stay with Mom, I tell him. 

That’s not even an option for me. I pick up my purse and walk around to the passenger side. I can’t deal with another day of everyone in my family drooling over the new baby. I don’t know what possessed my mom to have a second kid when her firstborn was graduating high school, but she did and our household is a mess of diapers, bottles, and baby vomit. I’ll go anywhere to escape this nightmare.  

This trip is the lesser of the two evils. Dad’s back in his element, and I can’t crush that. He’s been frothing for a coaching job since Neil Harper retired. For the last few weeks, he’s been all over the globe, one swell after another, coaching this guy from Crescent Cove. Apparently, the guy’s family is rich, so they have my dad thinking he’s some kind of jet-setting surf celeb now. It’s one of those things where you smile and nod while Dad shows you pictures of his adventures. 

It’ll be like a working vacation, Dad says, pulling his seatbelt across. Well, you know, for me anyway. It’s a nice break from reality. You may actually like being off the grid.

That’s doubtful. A remote island could be an idea of paradise, but we don’t even know if they have stable Wi-Fi. That’s my own personal hell. What does Dad expect me to do for hours on end while he’s in the water coaching and I don’t even have a connection to the modern world? 

So is Donovan flying out when we do or is he taking his own personal jet? I ask. 

Dad shoots me that bent eyebrow ‘Dad glare’ that means I need to watch my tone or my words or my attitude. Amazing how that glare can be tossed at so many different actions and still have the same effect. 

First, his name is Dominic, Dad corrects me, even though I knew that. And he’s meeting us at the airport, so I expect you to put on a friendly face. I know you have one.

I’ll be nice, I concede. It’s not like I’ll be seeing much of him anyway. You guys will be surfing, and I’ll be poolside.

Dad drops his Oakley shades over his eyes before pulling out of the driveway. That’s the spirit, he says. 

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St. Catalina Island is picturesque. At least that’s the vibe I get from their tourism website. The airport’s Wi-Fi has been slow, but the photographs of waterfalls and fresh fruit load with ease. I think it’s taunting me, showing me the paradise that is stealing away my summer during my final moments with a decent Internet connection. I hope there’s more to this island than pretty scenery and juicy pineapples. 

I glance over my shoulder to make sure my dad isn’t creeping around watching my every move. Then I open up WaveSnap. I’d never confess to my dad that I have an account on the social media app geared toward surf culture, but how else am I supposed to keep up with the sport and all the surf drama that is included? Besides, most surfers treat it like Instagram or Facebook and post their entire lives on it. I like all the tropical beach vibes. 

I don’t even have to search Dominic’s name. He’s at the top of my suggested list since he was the last person I scoped out on the app. He’s posted again since I looked last night. It’s a photo of his boards, sealed away in their bags, with the caption, Island bound with the super coach! I wonder if he even knows I’m tagging along. 

I scroll through his pictures, but most are surf clips or beach photos from places he’s visited. It’s pretty impersonal. There are no family photos or pics of him hanging out with friends. There aren’t even a few arrogant selfies, which I actually expected to see more of. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to ink some kind of modeling deal on the side with a surf brand. He looks like the type who would, and I’m sure his rich daddy could hook him up with all the right people. 

Maybe somewhere among the approximate 175,000 residents of the island, someone will be hosting a raging bonfire with fruity drinks. I’m all for the paradise vibe, but I am not spending my summer visiting tourist spots. I’m sure the waterfalls and gardens are beautiful, but I’m more concerned with forgetting all of the things I’m leaving behind.

What Dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him. That’s my summer motto at his house every year, and I intend to abide by it on the island. It’s still summertime with my dad. It’s simply uprooted thanks to the pretty boy surfer. 

I take a sip of my airport coffee, but it tastes the way I imagine garden dirt and rain water would taste. I wish I’d asked Dad to stop at Starbucks. Unlike my mom, he’s not a fan of major coffee chains, but then again, if my morning breakfast consisted of black coffee and Aspirin, I probably wouldn’t be high maintenance about it either. I walk over to the nearest trash can and drop the cup. Maybe the lack of caffeine will allow me to sleep on the flight. It may be more bearable that way. 

He should be here any minute, Dad says when I sit next to him. His dad is dropping him off. He’s a good kid. I think you’ll get along with him just fine.

It’s not like I’m going to be hanging out with him, I remind Dad. You guys are training and surfing. I’m doing my own thing.

Dad looks toward the ceiling and shakes his head. We’re staying in the same house, he says. There are still mealtimes. The swell won’t always be pumping, so we can go do other things on the island. You can’t completely ignore him. I’m not saying be his best friend. Just get along and make it pleasant. I really need this job, Kaia, and I hate that it’s interfered with our summer, but I’m doing the best I can. 

Ugghhh. The only things worse than a summer guilt trip are sunburns and itchy bug bites. 

I know, I admit. "I get it. I do. I know you need this, and I am the one who said I needed an escape from life at home. My wish was your command. I just got more than I bargained for."

Thanks for doing this for me, he says. It’s going to be fun. I promise. You know, you could go surfing with us. It’s sort of a summertime staple for you and me.

No, I say immediately. I don’t want him to know I can surf either. That’s your thing. I don’t want an alarm clock this summer, and you two will be up before the sun.

My heart twinges when I say no to surfing with Dad. I never had this deep passion to learn or desire to be a professional wave rider. But I wanted to learn because I knew it was important to my dad. I guess I was like most little girls – I wanted him to be proud. So I learned at an early age, and after my parents divorced, surfing was only a part of my summertime life. It’s a staple, though. It’s part of summertime with Dad. Except for this summer.

Okay, Dad surrenders, nodding. No surfing for you. As far as this summer goes, you’re just a surf coach’s daughter.

He begins to say something else, but his gaze shoots over my shoulder and he jumps to his feet. He’s gone in a blur before I can even ask what’s up. I spin in my seat and watch Dad rush toward the admittedly beautiful brunette boy dragging two surfboard bags in with him. Another man carrying luggage stops to shake Dad’s hand. 

So that’s them – the Richardsons. I try to be nonchalant, like I’m casually glancing over, but it’s hard to play it cool when they’re basically off of the pages of magazines. His dad looks like he belongs in a fancy watch advertisement, the ones where men in expensive suits lean against a sports car while checking the time. 

And Dominic… Well, he’s exactly what I would expect of a rich kid who likes to surf. He’s tall and clean cut but also muscular and a bit edgy. He’s prettier than most of the world’s top surfers. It actually makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit. He’s so clichéd, and sadly, that equals success in our society. 

I grab my phone and swipe the screen. I open WaveSnap and browse through pictures of random palm trees and dolphins to make myself look uninterested in what’s happening around me. I don’t intend on getting to know this guy.

From what I’ve heard, he acted like a crybaby over losing an event and then partied his way into flunking out of college. He looks like a privileged rich kid, but he clearly lives the privileged rich life as well. His daddy may be able to get him out of some trouble, but I’m not about to engage with that kind of drama. 

And this is my daughter, Kaia, Dad says as footsteps approach me. He motions a hand toward me. She’s with me most summers, so she’ll be going with us.

Oh, cool, Dominic says, extending a hand toward me. Dominic Richardson. It’s nice to meet you. Do you surf too?

I reach for his hand, noticing every vein and how they tighten in his arm as his hand grasps mine. He smells like sunscreen, and it makes me wonder if he’s already had a morning surf. 

Not if I can help it, I lie. That’s always been more of Dad’s thing.

That’s a shame, he says, exhaling a sigh after. I figured good surf genes had to run in the family. Thought maybe you could teach me something too.

I scrunch my nose and shake my head. Sorry. Not my forte. But you’re in good hands with my dad.

He reaches back for his carry-on bag and says something to his dad, so I use the opportunity to glance back at my phone. I pull up the ongoing group text I have with my friends back home and start to tell them about my summer predicament.

I occasionally cut my eyes toward Dad and Dominic as they go through their checklist with Mr. Richardson regarding equipment and whether or not they brought enough surf wax for his entire quiver of boards. Dad says something about surf shops on the island as I type the words ‘he’s incredibly hot,’ but then I change my mind. 

I delete the entire thing and exit the message. One, I don’t want to admit to anyone that he’s incredibly hot. My high school clique doesn’t need to know about his chiseled jaw line or dark brown eyes or how his arm vein pops through his skin and makes me want to run my fingers over it all day long. Two, I don’t want them hounding me for photographic proof or seeking him out online. I’m not about to ask him for a photo, and I don’t want to send them screenshots of his WaveSnap. In fact, I don’t even want them to know he exists because they’d find a way to make this awkward as hell for me. 

Three, there’s no point in telling them anyway. We said we’d keep in touch and still be best friends forever after graduation, but I already feel us slipping into that black hole that is life after high school. Last I heard from them, Isabelle was headed to Costa Rica with her family for a post-grad vacation, but she only sent two photos to the group text. Hazel and her boyfriend broke up since they’re going to college in different states, but she didn’t want ice cream or company after the split.

And that’s okay because I didn’t tell them I was hopping on a plane to a tropical island with my dad and a hot guy. We’re all scattered across the galaxy, too busy to hang out and too wrapped up in our own worlds to keep up with each others. This is our new normal. 

I don’t know where they are right now, but I know my spot in the galaxy is about to be on St. Catalina Island.

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Dominic

They’re busted, I say, slamming the bag onto the airport floor. I kick it aside and run my hand through my hair. Fucking busted.

Glenn whips

Reviews for Chasing Swells

[Jewelry Bonney · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

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