Instead of walking down the aisle, my fiancé walked out the door. So I’m taking our honeymoon cruise without him. I’ll enjoy seven perfect days of endless margaritas, pristine beaches, and island excursions even more with my best friend instead. What I need is a complete break from ANYTHING akin to romance. Complete break. That includes the tempting Grayson Hamilton, I remind myself. No matter how much of a crush I had on him back in high school. No matter how lickable his abs turned out to be. I AM ON A BREAK!
Grayson
Scoring my dream job with the industry’s leading travel magazine was a lucky break. Unfortunately, I’m just about out of luck. This all-expenses-paid cruise my employer sent me on is my last chance to save my reputation. I have to stay focused despite all the beautiful, single women on this Love at Sea cruise. Yep. Focused. Focused on my job. NOT on my best friend’s little sister, all grown up and smoking hot, looking like she needs someone to help her get over her freshly broken heart. On second thought, maybe a little distraction couldn’t hurt. Maybe an offer of a no-strings-attached rebound will help get her out of my system. Then I can concentrate on saving my career before we both Abandon Ship.
Abandon Ship is a jilted bride romance, part of the Love at Sea multi-author series. Get ready to set sail through the Caribbean on Festival Cruises’ most alluring voyage with eight of your favorite authors - happily ever after guaranteed!
Experience everything the Love at Sea series has to offer. From speed dating to masquerades, guests are sure to enjoy the hot days and steamy nights. Explore hidden waterfalls, swim with dolphins, and watch as eight couples find their forever on the open ocean.
Excerpt
Copyright 2022 @Karigan Hale
I am reinventing myself. I’m a ME not a WE. Since I’m no longer Asshole’s fiancée, I can be anything I want to be. I could be a recovering circus performer who left the big top for big adventure. I could be a rich German heiress just waiting on wire transfers—oh wait, that’s already been done.
I could definitely be carefree and happy and not have people look at me like I’m going to crack. I can find myself again. I can be single and happy and unattached.
As we pass a group of oglers, I smile brightly and toss my hair. Instead of looking cool and collected, I am momentarily blinded by the sun and miss the small step to the ramp, pitching me forward into the crowd.
“Shit, Abby. You okay?” Jazz asks, trying, and failing, to grab my elbow.
Luckily, my fall is broken by the person in front of us.
Unluckily, my nose ends up embedded in his ass crack. I grab his thighs to keep myself from sliding down his backside. He clenches his muscles in surprise, but that only makes my face smoosh harder into his ass. I’m sucking in his khaki shorts instead of air, but if I let go, I will faceplant onto the gangway. I hold on until I can get my feet under me and pray I don’t pass out from lack of oxygen. Imagine the headline: “Jilted Woman Suffocates in Man’s Ass on Love Cruise.”
Jazz grabs my arms and helps me stand. I suck in khaki-free air.
“At least buy the man dinner first,” she quips.
The man glances over his shoulder with a frown. I give him a sheepish smile and a finger wave. “Crowds, am I right?”
He nods, lips twitching, and turns back around, putting his earbud back in his ear. The gesture and the way his dark hair falls over his forehead slams me with deja vu, but I can’t think of why. I shake off the feeling. I’m just too mired in memories today.
I can’t help but glance at his backside now that I’m at a distance to examine it. It looks damn good in the shorts he’s wearing. If I had to face plant into a butt today, I’m glad it was a nice one.
“Well, that’s one way to make an impression,” Jazz says, suppressing a laugh as we follow the slowly moving crowd up the ramp to board the ship. “I didn’t peg you for being into ass play. I guess what they say about school teachers is true.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Go on. Get it all out of your system so we never have to mention this again. Like ever.” I groan. “I’m so not good at this flirting thing. I’ll be your wingman and live vicariously through your overly friendly vagina. Just put a sock on the door if you don’t want me walking in.”
“Next please?” the woman at the check-in booth says with a forced smile. Her cheeks must hurt by the end of the day.
“Sorry,” I say, handing over my passport to her. Jazz does the same.
“Welcome aboard, Abigail Winters and Jasmine Bucolo. You will be in Sea Terrace 13090A.”
I'm looking at my room key when a deep male voice startles me. “Excuse me.”
I jump a little and turn to see the man I bumped into earlier. My face heats to match the red carpet of the entrance way.
“I’m so sorry for earlier. I don’t normally grope strangers. I tripped and—”
“It was an accident. That isn’t why I stopped you. I—uh—this is weird, but did I hear your name is Abby Winters?”
I tilt my head at him, the fog of embarrassment lifting. And holy shit. “Grayson Hamilton?”
A broad smile lights up his face, smoothing out the strong angles, and my memories start clicking into place. Grayson and my brother, Alex, dominating the soccer field in high school. Grayson and the rest of Alex’s annoying friends teasing me to no end. Grayson’s adorable, crooked smile. Grayson dominating my fevered teenaged dreams.
He holds out his hand. “Little Breezy Winters. Of all the cruise ships in all the world, you had to board this one.”
I laugh a little too loudly and take his hand. “God, no one’s called me Breezy in years. How are you, Gray?”
Besides really freaking hot. His handsome features—that I used to discretely study more than my homework…but in a not-at-all creepy way—have filled out into strong manly angles. Small lines form around his mouth and deep brown eyes when he smiles. In short, he has aged very, very yummily.
No, I scold myself. I am most definitively on a break from men.
Karigan Hale is a writer, reader, wife, mother, teacher, and photographer. She married her high school sweetheart and has been a hopeful romantic ever since.
She’s highly susceptible to sudden summer thunderstorms and happily ever afters. Highly allergic to poison ivy and early mornings. And highly addicted to fountain sodas and true crime.
When she’s not reading or writing swoon-worthy romances, she’s usually stalki…er, chasing her two daughters around with her camera, grading papers, or cleaning up after the animals on her mini-farm (at least emus, goats, chickens, dogs, and cats are cute, right?).
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