"...A highly entertaining and explosively sexual story. Ms. Hart has a highly creative imagination and a magical way with words that keeps one sitting on the edge of their seats as they read her books. With her talent for excelling in many genres, I see a long career ahead for Ms. Hart and her books. I can hardly wait to see where her imagination will take us in her next release!"—Teresa Henson, Romance Junkies
"Megan Hart enthralls with this twist on a classic tale that heats the blood, fills the heart with longing, and leaves the reader begging for much, much more."—Natalie Damschroder, author of The TreeKeeper
"4 Hearts!...Jeenai shows that he is willing to sacrifice everything for a chance at true love...even his life. A wonderful retelling of a classic story!"—Sara Sawyer, The Romance Studio
…The wine had made her warm and the water had looked so appealing, Helena had no compunctions about diving in. She hadn't counted on a riptide. The forceful water had grabbed her legs and pulled her under. She'd come up, spluttering and coughing, and when she put her feet down, she felt nothing but water beneath her.
Stupid! she berated herself. Stupid for swimming alone, at night, without even a bathing suit. She'd seen the movie Jaws. Naked, drunk swimmers always got eaten at night.
She kicked as powerfully as she could and tried to find the shore. There…a glint of light, left from a burning candle on her deck. She focused on it. How far out was she? The light seemed as far away as a star.
The water closed over her head again and this time she didn't fight it. She drifted. She was drowning, but wasn't afraid. Funny. She'd always thought she'd fight death when it came.
Something bumped against her trailing legs and Helena screamed. Thoughts of sharp teeth and giant dorsal fins filled her as the water rushed into her throat and lungs. She was under the water! She pumped her feet, moved her hands, but which way was up? Drowning hadn't frightened her, but being chomped by a shark did.
Hands. She felt hands on her waist. Arms curled around her and she was pressed against a bare, male chest. A face swam before her. A human face. Lips pressed to hers and gave her air to breathe. She didn't know how, but could only be grateful for the breath. They surged to the surface, where she gasped in a breath that burned like fire. She caught a glimpse of streaming dark hair, dark, fathomless eyes, and strong, broad shoulders.
He pulled her toward the shore. In the back of her sea-soaked brain, Helena waited for him to carry her onto the sand like the hero from a romance novel. Kiss her back to life, then perhaps make passionate love to her on the sand without either one of them getting chafed.
Instead, she felt his muscles bunch and roll as he lifted and tossed her as hard as he could. She didn't quite make it all the way to the land. Helena landed with a thud in the shallow waves. She sucked in air, not water, and she turned to look with bleary eyes for her savior.
He wasn't there...