The four women surround me, Louisiana-girl sliding into the seat beside me, her blonde friend still behind me, and the other two hopping to the dual seats across the aisle from me. I learn their names are Ann, Wendy, Donna, and Stephanie.
They each wear a brightly colored tee withThe Unicorn Unitprinted on the front, as well as a twisty unicorn headband on their heads. I can tell they’re a lot of fun.
The women let me know they’ve all read at least five of my books thanks to the recommendations of Wendy, the one beside me, which is an awesome feeling. I’m not super famous, but I do get recognized by hardcore romance readers from time to time.
Wendy pulls out a worn paperback of my very first book,Slow and Low. “I’ve read this nine times, and I brought it with me to read at the beach to make it an even ten.” She scrunches her nose apologetically. “I hate to bethatperson, but would it bug you if I asked you to sign it for me? I know you’re just here to have fun, but I’d kick myselfin the ass if I met you and didn’t get you to sign it. I’ve read all of your books, but this is my favorite one ever.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I laugh, digging through my ballerina-pink backpack for a pen. “I’m actually here to work on my next book. I’ve been having trouble concentrating at home.” I sign her paperbackTo my friend, Wendy. Much love, Juli Mack,and hand it back to her.
She clutches it to her chest, looking pleased. “Thank you.”
One of the ladies across from me, Donna, I think, lowers her voice and asks, “What’s your next book about? Or is it a secret?”
“It’s calledThe Playbook. The main characters are a librarian and a football player.”
Ann, the blonde behind me, bounces in her seat. “Oh, I love sports romance. You haven’t written one of those in a while.”
Yeah, there’s a reason for that, I think but don’t say out loud.
Stephanie, a woman with dark skin and soft black curls, waves her hand in the air. “Oooh, while you’re in your sports era, I vote for a hockey romance next.”
Not a chance in hell, sister.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say aloud.
The vehicle turns onto a driveway, and I get my first glimpse of the resort. Excitement fills my chest. It’s been so long since I’ve been on any kind of tropical vacation.
Two enormous white-stone pillars flank the guardhouse, and shiny gold pineapples gleam from each. A golden metal arch connects the two pillars and readsPineapple Island Resort and Spa.
Why are those pineapples upside down?I wonder for a second before I’m distracted by the gorgeous scenery… lush green lawns and lines of palm trees that curve perfectly with the turns in the white and pink shell drive.
The main lodge comes into view, all reddish timber with a high peaked roof. The van pulls beneath the wide portico, and everyone stands.
A couple that had been at the back of the van inches forward to introduce themselves to everyone as Erin and Jason Alvin. “This is our first time here,” Jason says.
“Oh, you’re gonna love it!” Stephanie gushes. “We all met here five years ago and come back every year.”
Return customers… that’s a good sign.
Inside, I’m handed a slushy drink with a wedge of pineapple on the lip and am guided to a long teakwood reception desk. A tall, lean woman with mahogany skin and box braids greets me with a Jamaican accent.
“Ms. McNamara, welcome to Pineapple Island. My name is Kat. Do you have any specific requirements as far as cottages are concerned?”
I hitch my backpack higher onto my shoulder. “Something quiet, please. I’m going to be doing some writing while I’m here.”
She taps magenta fingernails—which perfectly match her lipstick—against a silver keyboard with soft clicky-clack noises and nods. “Excellent. I’ll put you in cottage four. It’s one of the farthest from the lodge. The closest neighbor is cottage five, and that one is currently unoccupied. It should be nice and peaceful for you there.”
“That sounds perfect. Thank you.”
Her pretty bottle-green eyes twinkle with mischief. “I do hope you’re not planning to be all work and no play, Ms. McNamara. We like to have a good time here, and I’m sure everyone will be dying to spend time with you.”
Letting out a self-conscious chuckle, I tell her, “That’s very sweet of you. I definitely plan to enjoy the sunshine during the day. The photos of the beach and pool I saw online were amazing.” I place a hand on my chest and feign a swoon. “But the hammocks! That’s what sold me.”
“The hammocks are my favorites too. In fact, there’s one directly behind your cottage.” Kat hands something to a brown-haired porter lingering at her shoulder before returning her attention to me. “This is Malcolm. He’ll take your bags to your cottage, and they’ll be waiting for you when youarrive.”
Her voice is like warm silk, and I could seriously listen to her reading the phone book and be enamored. “I love your accent,” I tell her. “Could you pretty please come to my room and talk me to sleep later?”
She laughs. “That could be arranged. Or I could send my husband, Jevaun. He’s a massage therapist here at the resort. His hands, combined with his voice, will turn you into a pile of pudding. You’ll sleep like a baby when he’s done.”
