Velvet Carter - Blissfully Yours

Their exotic island idyll is only the beginning…

Who’s the real Saturday Knight? Is she the tempestuous, in-your-face star of Divorced Divas, the small screen’s hottest reality series? Or is she the sultry, au naturel temptress Brandon Gilliam meets in Jamaica? It isn’t long before the New York director and the woman known off set as Ayana are sharing a passionate interlude that he never wants to end.

Back in the city, Ayana gets a reality check—when her sexy isle lover turns back into the no-nonsense director on her show. If the secret about her romantic interlude with Brandon gets out, it could ruin her career as the single vamp fans love to hate. There are people who depend on Ayana and the financial gains earned through her TV persona. Is she willing to risk everything for a seductive fantasy, or could what she shares with Brandon be the truest bliss of all?

“Oh, my God, are you all right?” asked a handsome man, straddling a bright orange Jet Ski. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t see you. What are you doing floating all the way out here by yourself?”

Ayana glanced around the vast body of water and didn’t see the beach. She had drifted out farther than anticipated. “I hadn’t planned on floating this far—guess the waves carried me away,” she said, treading water.

He reached out his hand to her. “Get on. I’ll take you back to shore, so you don’t have to swim so far.”

She brushed her hair out of her face, rubbed the salt water out of her eyes and looked up into his face. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Behind a pair of dark aviator shades was Brandon. “Uh…sure.” She took hold of his hand, climbed out of the water and settled on the back of the Jet Ski. Ayana wrapped her arms around his bare chest and held on tight as he sped off.

“Where are you staying?” he yelled.

With the Jet Ski creating a cascade of waves and the roar of the motor, she could barely hear him. “What’d you say?”

“I said where are you staying?” he asked more loudly.

“Just keep straight,” she responded, finally hearing him.

He doesn’t know it’s me.

VELVET CARTER

is not just the name of a luxurious fabric, but it’s also the name of one of the world’s leading writers of “exotica.” She’s a prolific novelist, who paints pictures with her words. Velvet has her finger on the pulse and knows how to make your heart race with her tantalizing stories filled with romance and seduction. Her novels have been translated into German, and released in London to critical acclaim. Velvet uses the world as her muse, traveling the globe for provocative inspiration.

Blissfully Yours

Velvet Carter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

I’d like to thank you for purchasing Blissfully Yours, my first of many novels under the Harlequin Kimani imprint. I had an absolute ball writing Blissfully Yours. The characters I created seemed more like close friends than fictional people….

You might notice a piece of yourself in Ayana, who is multifaceted, resourceful and fiercely independent. Brandon is such a strong yet sweet man that I wanted to immerse myself in the novel and date him! Since that wasn’t possible, I left the dating to Ayana, who does a fantastic job of showing Brandon around her native island of Jamaica. They party on the beach, have romantic picnics in the Blue Mountains and make love with the sounds of the ocean as a soundtrack. I hope that Blissfully Yours transports you to a romantic state of relaxation.

Velvet

To those who found bliss when they least expected,

and to those who are still joyfully looking!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 1

Ayana awoke to a gentle breeze flowing through the screened French doors of her parents’ Jamaican hillside home. The delicious smell of ackee and saltfish tickled her nose as she stirred underneath the white cotton sheet. She yawned wide and stretched her long limbs before climbing out of bed. Today was her last full day in Negril and she planned to make the most of her time before heading back to her hectic New York life.

She showered and dressed in cutoff blue jean shorts, a T-shirt and flip-flops. Ana—as she was known in Jamaica—pulled her long raven hair into a ponytail before trotting down the small back staircase that led to the kitchen.

“Hmm, something sure smells good,” Ana said to her mother, who was laboring over the stove.

“I made ya favorite—ackee and saltfish, callaloo and johnnycakes,” her mother answered in a thick Jamaican accent.

Ayana looked at the plate of food that her mother had dished up. “Ma, I can’t eat all of that.” Having lived in New York for more than ten years, Ayana had adjusted her eating habits and now ate mostly salads, fish and very few carbs.

“Ya too skinny, gurl. Gotta fatten ya up.” Mrs. Tosh was a traditional Jamaican mother who believed in eating heartily at every meal.

“I’m not skinny, Ma. I still have plenty of thighs and a butt,” she said, looking over her shoulder at her full rear end.

“Yeah, ya are. Don’t argue wit me, gurl. Sit down and eat.”

Ayana didn’t say another word. There was no use in debating. Her domineering mother always got the last word, so Ayana sat at the wooden kitchen table and ate every morsel. She then polished off her mega breakfast with a cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee. She had to admit that eating some of her favorite childhood dishes felt good and satisfying.

“Ma, do you wanna go with me over to New Beginnings?” New Beginnings was a local women’s and children’s shelter that Ayana helped support with generous donations of her time and money.

“Me got no time to go to the shelter today. Got too much housework to do,” she said, taking Ayana’s plate and rinsing it off.

“Ma, I bought you a dishwasher so you wouldn’t have to stand there and hand wash every dish. Where is the dishwasher, anyway?”

“Why ya waste ya money?”

Ayana just shook her head. She never stopped trying to spoil her parents, but they were simple people and didn’t want the modern gifts she bought. “I don’t consider buying my parents gifts a waste of money. Ma, you and Dad struggled for so long. Now that I’m in a position to make your lives a little easier, that’s what I’m going to do.” Ayana had her own stubborn streak, a trait she’d inherited from her mother.

“Go on, gurl.” Her mother waved her away and continued washing dishes.

Ayana kissed her mother goodbye, went to the living room, grabbed her sunglasses and keys off the parson’s table near the front door and left. She hopped on her canary-yellow Vespa and took off down the winding road. The lush hillside, dotted with hibiscus and white bougainvillea, whizzed by. Ayana loved jetting around Negril on her scooter. She had driven one ever since she was a teenager. The open air was refreshing and helped to clear her mind. This was where she’d fled to two years ago after her nasty, well-publicized divorce. Ayana thought back to that time.