Mason Christian has twelve weeks to flip something old into something new, and then he's getting the hell out of Footsteps Bay - a tiny New Zealand coastal town. Not even his temporary secretary and personal assistant--the feisty, luscious Billie McLeod--will deter him, but there's no denying she makes him feel alive. More alive than he's felt in three years...

Billie has one dream: save enough money to finish her degree. That's why she's agreed to work for hard ass, all-business-no-pleasure Mason Christian--a man who has every intention of destroying through modernization the town's most cherished historical home. Before she can say 'see ya' she's signed on the dotted line and is contractually bound to be Mason's forty-second assistant. But working with male perfection every day is awesome with a capital A--as long as they can stick to a hands-off policy that gets harder every day...

Trapped in a loveless marriage, Zoe Hughes escaped to make a new life for herself on the tiny island of Tonga. Now she runs a successful boutique honeymoon resort. Selling true love is easy. No one needs to know she's married in name only. At least until America’s premier honeymoon magazine wants to publish a feature on her perfect marriage. Now she must convince her estranged husband to rip himself away from plotting corporate takeovers in LA to save her island paradise.

Rory agrees to come for forty-eight hours, but only because he needs the positive PR. To his surprise, the wife he finds in Tonga isn’t the same woman he married. Now she’s so much more…

When a storm strands Rory in Tonga, will he win back his wife or leave paradise empty-handed?

“Put it in a sentence.” Zoe took a long swig of her drink, obviously thinking she had all the time in the world.
“Junky. The nature of junk.” Rory couldn’t help himself and smiled like a fourteen-year-old boy. “Or. I put my junky in your trunky.”
The next second purple liquid drained down on him as spat her drink on him. Zoe’s eyes bulged and she struggled to pull in air, laughing. “No way that’s a legal word.”
He stood, grabbed a nearby towel from a stack on the bench and wiped purple drops from his chest.
“That’s the second time you’ve done that to me.” He threw the towel in a heap in the corner. “And you call me a caveman.”
He sat and cocked an eyebrow.
She gazed at him a long second then jutted her chin. “I’m calling you on it.”
He leaned forward, his pulse hammering, scattering the tiles on his rack. “You know that’s an instant forfeit if you lose, Zo. You know the rules.”
“I do.”
She pushed back her chair and walked to the bookcase. His gaze raked down her legs, stilling on the shoes.  Fuck, they made her legs look good. She pulled out a dictionary and began flicking through the pages. Her eyes settled on a page for a long time before she nodded.
She came and stood in front of him, her eyes never leaving his, a very seductive and very sexy smile on her face. Her gaze dropped to his pants then went back to his face. She licked her lips, reached around and unhooked her bra.
“Keep on the shoes,” he ground out.

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