Enticing Entanglement

By Simone J. Maxwell

Can a thirst-trapping pastry chef find the perfect recipe to win the heart of the grumpy hotel reviewer in the room next door?

 

Monica

As a luxury hotel reviewer for a travel firm catering to VIPs, rubbing elbows with the rich and famous in world-class resorts across the globe is just part of the job.

 

It takes a lot to impress me these days, and if we're being honest, I'd rather be at home in a cozy robe, indulging in my favorite obsession: binge-watching baking shows.

 

But life has other plans. Plans that include rooming next to the 6'4" pastry chef of my dreams while on my latest work assignment. I've spent hours admiring the thirst traps he posts online, but nothing compares to seeing those chiseled abs in person.

 

Philippe

Nothing can prepare you for a whirlwind rise to fame.

 

One minute, I'm posting shirtless videos of myself showcasing my chocolate confections, and the next, I'm judging televised baking competitions and walking the red carpet.

 

After two non-stop years of always being on, a three-week holiday at an exclusive Hawaiian beach resort sounds like heaven. Instead of worrying about my "brand," I get to focus on myself.

 

But when Monica, the enticing woman in the room next to mine, seems to be immune to my charms, I have something new to focus on…

 

This book is a steamy, stand-alone contemporary romance with NO cliffhanger and a HFN suitable for ages 18+.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simone J. Maxwell
• Release date: Apr 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224043156

Book preview

1

MONICA

D o you have enough pillows? asked Robin, the overly friendly Guest Services Supervisor who’d been glued to my side since I’d checked in at the Pāʻina Exclusive Resort on Hawaii’s Pāʻina Island half an hour earlier.

I glanced incredulously at the heaping mound of cream-colored pillows piled at the head of the pristine king bed. Seriously? Only a psychopath needed more.

Personally, I preferred just two—one for my head, and one to prop my arm up when I read in bed—ideally medium-firm and filled with mulberry silk or a down alternative. I let out a dreamy sigh as I remembered the pillows at the Jade Heritage Hotel I’d reviewed in Kunming, China six months ago. Those pillows gave me some of the best sleep I’d ever had.

Ma’am? Robin prompted, her eager-to-please smile showing the slightest hint of strain.

My left eye twitched. Sure, I was thirty-three, and more wiry gray hairs were popping up around my face every day, but people usually assumed I was in my late-twenties. No way was I in ma’am territory.

Strike Two, Robin.

Instead of answering her, I downed the rest of the Mai Tai I’d been given upon my arrival at the resort.

Give her a break, Monica, I thought, using my teeth to separate a maraschino cherry from its stem. You’re just grumpy because it’s a travel day.

It didn’t matter how far in advance I packed my bags, or how early I arrived at the airport, something always went wrong on the days I traveled to or from a new locale. Flight delays. Missed connections. Lost luggage. It was funny that one of the first things I loved about traveling—the spontaneity that occurred when you stepped out of your comfort zone—now irritated the hell out of me. These days, an easy checkout, on-time flight, and a prompt suitcase made me a happy camper.

Today had been better than most. I’d had an early wake-up and short flight from the island of Oahu, where I’d spent two weeks reviewing three resorts for my employer—Preeminent Travel, an award-winning luxury travel agency that designed bespoke experiences for celebrities, Fortune 500 CEOs, and the wealthiest of the wealthy. The Pāʻina Exclusive Resort had not only let me check in early, but upgraded my room to an ocean view. Travel mishaps aside, the perks I received in my line of work far exceeded any drawbacks.

If my sisters were around, they’d call bullshit on my travel day excuse and joke that I just didn’t like people.

They weren’t wrong.

Ms. Ryan? Robin’s voice was hesitant.

There are enough pillows, I said, trying my hardest to keep a pleasant tone and an agreeable look on my face.

Okay. Would you like a tour of the resort now? Or I could unpack your bag—

I just want to be alone, I blurted out. All I wanted to do was take pictures of the room and jot down some notes before changing into one of the organic cotton yukatas the resort promoted on their website. Since it was only early afternoon, I had some downtime before I had to tackle the items on my Day One Checklist.

Robin’s heart-shaped face fell.

A tiny knot of guilt tightened in my stomach. The words my older sister, Melody, had shouted at me when we had arguments in our teenage years rang through my head as clearly as if she’d said them to me five minutes earlier. You could make lemonade with that sour attitude of yours.

I didn’t want to be sour lemonade…but I didn’t know how to be anything else.

I followed Robin’s hunched shoulders to the door. I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s no excuse, but I didn’t sleep well last night. If I need anything, you’ll be the first one I call.

Okay, Robin said, beaming again. "Call me for anything."

I gave her a thumbs-up. Anything. Got it.

Closing the door, I let out a long exhale, ready to settle into my home away from home for the next four days. I wheeled my rose gold Samsonite carry-on and large spinner behind the door, then removed the lei of purple orchids I’d received at check-in, setting it on top.

I fished my phone from my purse and got started on my checklist. Item One: snap photos of everything. The upholstered king bed with its myriad of pillows. The desk area and small coffee maker. The shallow, two-inch scratch on the bottom left drawer of the koa dresser. The Pāʻina’s artisanal, frangipani-scented toiletries neatly arranged in a basket, and the bathtub large enough for two large adults.

Not too shabby.

Back in the living area, I opened the sliding door shutters on the far end of the room and stepped onto the small balcony, a smile breaking over my face. A panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean greeted me just like the front desk agent had promised. In addition to the Pacific’s never-ending expanse of azure water, my balcony overlooked a private beach peppered with chairs and umbrellas, and the resort’s Olympic-sized pool. Soothing ukulele music floated up from hidden speakers. It would be absolutely perfect…if the balconies on either side of mine weren’t so close.

I took a few photos, then shoved my phone into the pocket of my linen pants. Grasping the balcony railing with both hands, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Even though I’d already been in Hawaii for a couple of weeks, I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of the rustling palm trees and balmy ocean breezes. I couldn’t wait to finish my assignment and head back home to San Francisco for a full two weeks off, but damn, I’d miss this.

I was just contemplating emailing my accountant to ask how much I would need to save in order to retire and live comfortably in Hawaii when my phone vibrated. I pulled it from my pocket and glanced at the screen, finding a text from my older sister.

Melody: Remember to wish Amari a happy birthday!

Shit, I hissed. I typed out a thank you to Mel, then pulled up my calendar app. Sure enough, Amari’s Birthday was right above Check-In at the Pāʻina Exclusive Resort. How’d I forget my youngest niece’s birthday?

Damn travel days.

I settled myself on one of the balcony’s loungers and texted my younger sister, Michelle, to see if it was a good time for a video chat. When I got a reply in the affirmative, I called her on FaceTime. As I waited for her to answer, I adjusted the colorful scarf holding my kinky curls back from my face and frowned at the dark bags below my eyes. My upcoming break was much needed.

Hey, Moni, Michelle said when the call connected. She held the phone at arm’s length so I could see her and the birthday girl, who was trying her best to squirm out of Michelle’s death grip.

Hi, Mich. Happy birthday, Amari! I squealed at the screen.

Thank you. Amari’s baby voice yanked my heart strings even though she looked anywhere but at the phone’s camera.

Michelle tickled her ribs. Can you tell Auntie how old you are?

The little girl laughed and held up three fingers, then ducked out of view.

Amari, wait. Auntie wants to talk to you. The image on the screen was erratic as Michelle tried to pull Amari back to the phone.

It’s okay, I said. Let her go. I couldn’t believe that the last time I