Want the most romantic honeymoon experience you can get? I’m your gal.
Unfortunately, it isn’t by experience that I know these things.
Love doesn’t come easily to an overworked type-A planner who manages romance at the most luxurious resort in the Virgin Islands.
I have far too many boxes to check to be checking out anything but forms, schedules, and rose petals.
God, the rose petals in this place.
For the longest time, my career has been my ultimate dream and completely filled me up.
Love was for others who needed a partner in life to get by but not me.
I got this on my own.
Until a class-A hottie shows up and knocks me off my feet—literally.
He’s visiting the island trying to figure out what he’s running from or to.
Take a ticket, mister. We all are.
As great as he is, I can’t have kids and I’m honestly unsure of how he might feel about that.
First comes love, then marriage, and then babies in the baby carriage.
Perhaps I’ll just stick to what I know best—creating romance for others.
As much as I thought I knew about forevers, I was completely wrong.
This crazy little thing called love has called my bluff.
Introduction
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Dedication
To all my readers who love a good romantic comedy. There’s nothing like getting the feels and having a good laugh at the same time.
<3 Ali
Chapter 1
Peter
Even up on the top deck of the small passenger ferry, I found the air thick and humid with salty sea spray. I didn’t mind the smell or the way it made the handrails gritty and tacky, but I didn’t love how it formed a layer over my skin and clothes, making me feel a little boxed in by humidity.
The crowded ferry wasn’t making that claustrophobic feeling any easier, either.
The boat was small, and it was set to take me from the larger Virgin Island, St. Thomas, to the smaller, less crowded, and certainly less populated island, St. John. I’d only seen pictures of the island on the computer monitor in my home office. What started out as a screensaver image soon became a dream and an ache for an escape.
I never expected to be standing there, gazing out at the island itself in real life.
Up close and personal, St. John was smaller than I’d anticipated. I’d been warned about this, of course. People at work thought I was crazy for up and leaving for three months to an island I’d never been to with nothing but two suitcases worth of clothes and personal belongings. Most of the items I’d brought with me were simplicities like books, coding manuals for educational purposes, my laptop, and shoes. I hadn’t seen a need for anything more substantial than that. The whole point of this trip was to go back to basics and reset.
To escape.
I leaned forward on the railing and did my best to ignore the sea spray that burst upward from beneath the bow of the small ferry. Families crowded the railings on either side of me, most of them taking a day trip from St. Thomas. There, they were all likely staying at overpriced inclusive resorts with built-in daycare programs, five to seven a la carte restaurants, pools full of piss and booze from drunken patrons spilling their pina coladas in the water after spending too many hours at the swim up bar, and live night-time entertainment that ranged from mediocre to downright cringe-worthy.
Of course, I’d never stayed at one of those hotels. What I knew of them, I was pulling from what I’d been told by others who were lucky enough to have gone.
St. John drew closer. The ferry wrapped along the rocky coast, where sheer bluffs gave way to azure tropical waters. I waited, transfixed by the lush green beauty of the place that was so different from what I was used to back in Los Angeles. The ferry swept around the final bluff and rounded the bend.
Spread out before me was a white sandy beach speckled in bright umbrellas and beachgoers. Farther out bobbing on the royal-blue waters were fishermen’s