HIGH TIDE BIKINI (Pleasure Island, #3)
by Lyla Dune
Hot and Hilarious with Heart!
Primary love story:
Dirk Davis is no knight in shining armor, more like gigilo in board shorts. Why twenty-five year old virgin Kendal Duvall has chosen to have a fling with him leaves him baffled. She’s the epitome of the wholesome girl-next-door. He is definitely attracted to her, but fears she’s luring him into a boyfriend trap. He’s never had a serious girlfriend, because he’s made taking care of his ailing father a priority, one that sometimes hinders his social life and stunts his ambitions.
Kendal Duvall has struggled to break free from her controlling mother and move past some dark memories. Now that she’s finally moved out on her, she’s ready to explore uncharted territory, bedroom territory. Who better to be her guide than the local playboy who is known for being both discreet and good in bed?
Secondary love story: At age sixteen, Spencer Harris was paralyzed from the waist down after a head-on collision with a drunk driver. Ten years later, Spencer tries to come to terms with her desire to have the happily ever after she’s always dreamed of and the reality of what that happily ever after may look like in her current condition. She has so much love to give but doesn’t want to put limitations or burdens on others.
Earl Washington is a ball of insecurities after spending some time in jail and being labeled a bad egg. He’s ready to take charge of his life and pursue his dreams, but he longs for the love of a good woman. Spencer is the woman he wants, but will she want him when she finds out his deepest secrets?
High Tide Bikini is the third book in the Pleasure Island series. It takes place on an island that is home to some zany characters, an ostrich farm, and a senior citizen nudist colony. If you like romance with plenty of sizzle and giggle, you’ll love this series.
Atop his favorite ostrich, Robirrrda, Dirk rode up to Bare Point, the local senior citizen nudist colony.
Brock Knight and Trent McAllister were running after the rogue ostrich named Spike and having no luck at all. No wonder Carl called him. Those guys didn’t know how to handle these birds. But they sure turned all the old ladies into screaming fans.
He ought to be used to seeing these old people naked, but he still found himself gawking. It was like Madame Tussaud’s wax museum rejects got over-heated and melted. It creeped him out, but he couldn’t help but stare.
Spike trotted around the tents on the beach. Louise jiggle-jogged toward the bird, reaching out as if she was going to catch it with her bare hands. Crazy lady. Brock must not have seen her, because he ran right into her and knocked the woman flat on her back. His muscular Mr. Universe body landed right on top of her, nose to nose. She wrapped her tanned, leathery arms and beefy legs around Brock and gave him a big smooch. Gross. Ha. Dirk wouldn’t be surprised if Brock swam back across the pond to Wales in horror after that one.
Trent stopped and put his hands on his knees. His shoulders heaving. Was he okay? He straightened and held his stomach, laughing so hard he seemed to be having trouble breathing. Yeah. He was fine.
Dirk adjusted himself in his saddle, readied his lasso, and whispered to Robirrrda. “Ready, girl?”
Robirrrda made a clucking noise and scratched the ground.
He gave her hind end a light heel kick and off they went, full speed ahead. Everyone turned and cheered when he came charging up the dune on his two-legged, avian steed, lasso circling above his head like Roy Rogers.
Weaving around lounge chairs, and coolers, knocking over three umbrellas, and demolishing a sandcastle—the chase was on.
When Henry, a chubby old man with bigger boobs than his wife’s, tripped while trying to get out of Dirk’s way, Robirrrda flapped her wings and was airborne, briefly. She changed directions with her long neck outstretched horizontally, parallel with the ground. Dirk was jostled side to side, as her claws scratched up clumps of sand and sent the globs flying behind them.
Spike slowed down to a trot when he reached the fence, searching for a way around it.
Dirk tossed his lasso and hooked Spike on the first try. “I got you, you rascal.”
Cheers and whistles sounded behind him. He got off Robirrrda’s back and walked over to Spike and petted his neck. “Why you got to always cause trouble, huh?”
The bird looked at him, then rubbed his head on Dirk’s shoulder. “Crazy bird. I’m not mad at you. I reckon if I was trapped behind a wire fence all the time, I’d try to make a break for it every chance I got too. Freedom’s important to a guy.”
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Lyla Dune has taught music for eighteen years, played saxophone and clarinet in numerous orchestras and ensembles, taught piano, written songs, and repaired more musical instruments than she can recall. Yes, in case you’re wondering, you can fix the rotary valve on a student’s French horn with a paper clip and a rubber band three minutes before the kid’s horn solo at Lincoln Center.
How did Lyla become a writer? A few years ago, she stumbled across a poetry forum online and dabbled in poetry for kicks. She became a word junkie. She’s published poetry, flash fiction, and short stories in many different genres.
She lives on the coast of North Carolina with her husband, Gary, and her cat, Miura. One day, she’d like to have a pet ostrich. She’d name it Robirrrda, after the ostrich in Low Tide Bikini.
-Kit ‘N Kabookle posts on Twitter @desantismt