He’s
Enigmatic, Dangerously Handsome,
and COMPLETELY OFF-LIMITS…
MR. ROOK
Mr. Rook's Island #1
Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Releasing June 13th, 2017
From NEW YORK TIMES Bestseller Mimi Jean Pamfiloff,
Comes Part One of Mr. Rook’s
Island, a Sexy, Dark, Romantic Suspense.
He’s
Enigmatic, Dangerously Handsome, and COMPLETELY OFF-LIMITS…
The
women who vacation on Mr. Rook’s exclusive island are looking for one thing and
one thing only: to have their wildest romantic fantasies come to life. Pirates,
cowboys, billionaires—there’s nothing Rook’s staff can’t deliver.
But
when Stephanie Fitzgerald’s sister doesn’t return after her week in paradise,
Stephanie will have to pose as a guest in order to dig for answers.
Unfortunately, this means she’ll need to get close to the one thing on the
island that’s not on the menu: the devastatingly handsome and intimidating Mr.
Rook. And he’s not about to give the island’s secrets away.
My heart
bubbled with rage. Stay in character,
Steph. You’re a happy guest, like everyone else. The last thing I wanted
was to go ballistic and get kicked off the island before I got what I
needed—the truth for myself and information for “my boss,” Warner Price. I used
the term loosely because Warner and I had more of an arrangement rather than an
employer-employee situation. Either way, I couldn’t and wouldn’t go home until
I had what I needed.
Wearing
black leather sandals and a long blue cotton dress, I carefully descended the
narrow staircase, feeling my anxiety well inside my shaky knees.
“Welcome,
Miss…?” Holding out his hand, next to the bottom step, stood a huge tree trunk
of a man wearing a blue-and-white Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. He had to be
at least seven feet tall, his brown skin covered in Samoan tattoos. Even his
neck and the back of his shaved head were inked.
“Ms.
Brenna,” I lied, and shook his large hand. “Let me guess. You must be Tattoo
and you tell everyone when the plane arrives?” This place is a fucking joke.
He smiled
and flashed a set of bright white teeth. “My name is Gerry, ma’am, and our
control tower texts the employees to alert us when the guests arrive. May I
help you with your things?”
“No.” I
smiled politely, smoothing down the front of my wrinkled dress, trying my best
not to show him the hate inside me. Because for all I knew, he’d had something
to do with Cici’s death.
No. Don’t think that. She’s not
dead. Sadly,
however, my heart knew she would not leave us. Not like that. Which naturally
led to one conclusion: She never made it off this island alive.
I held back
a snarl and substituted it with a grin. “I can carry my own things, but
thanks.”
“Very good,
Ms. Brenna.” Tattoo—I mean Gerry—dipped his shaved head. “Please follow the red
carpet to the gravel path. The signs will direct you to the reception building,
where our staff will check you in.”
“Thanks.”
Gerry
turned his attention to the next guest behind me—Meg—and I continued on the red
carpet, squinting from the hot summer sun beating down on the top of my head.
My first
impression of the place was that everything felt too perfect, like a movie set
or theme park. Yes, the tall trees were real, and the birds of paradise
sprouting from beds of bright red and yellow flowers were real, too, but even
the gravel path I followed through the dense jungle didn’t have a single pebble
out of place.
As I
walked, the muted giggles and laughter of the ladies behind me echoed through
the trees. All I felt was my skin crawling and those eyes—from the shadow—still
watching me.
Stop it, I told myself. You’re letting your imagination get to you.
I slid my
cell from my purse to check for texts or messages from my dad. Crap. No bars? Not even one little flicker?
I guess I wasn’t surprised. This island couldn’t stay a secret if people were
posting their location on Facebook along with vacation pics.
After a
very short walk, the shaded path ended at a large, two-story house with an
enormous porch and hanging flowers of every color imaginable. It reminded me of
those old coffee plantation homes with whitewash paint and pillars.
I walked up
the steps to the porch, my body already dripping with sweat. “Jesus, this place
is like living inside a wet volcano,” I muttered. I couldn’t say I was a fan of
humidity before this and now I absolutely loathed it.
I stepped
inside the house, where a gentle breeze from the ceiling fans drifted against
my hot skin, giving some relief. The white wood-paneled room had fresh flowers
atop two white desks, where two pleasant-looking women awaited us. Oh, look. We’re being checked in to heaven. Every
perfect detail of this shitty place pissed me off.
The guests
formed a line and then gave their names to the women in blue-and-white blouses
behind the desks. After that, another woman, different every time, quickly
whisked them off down a hallway.
My turn. I stepped up, feeling nervous as
hell. I wasn’t great at lying, but there was no other way. I’m a guest. A happy guest.
“Hi. I’m
Stephanie Brenna.”
The young
woman with cocoa skin and her black hair pulled into a neat ponytail smiled and
then checked my name off her list. “There you are, Ms. Brenna. Julie will be
checking you in and going over the island’s amenities and rules during your
stay.”
Julie, a
brunette wearing white shorts and the standard Hawaiian blouse, appeared with a
bright smile. “Ms. Brenna, hello. Please come right this way.”
“What is
this?” The whole whisking people away and separating the guests made me uneasy.
The
receptionist continued smiling like she was high on life or had just gotten her
wings. “Ah, yes. Well, our check-in process is a little different than your
standard resort.” She leaned into her desk and whispered, “Because of the unique nature of our services.” She
winked.
“So you
mean there’s sex paperwork,” I said.
She pointed
her pencil at me. “You got it. And a safety orientation.”
“And Mr.
Rook? When do I get to meet him?” I asked.
The smiles
on the women’s faces melted so fast, one might have assumed I’d just told them
I’d like to eat their livers.
“What?” I
asked. “This is his island, isn’t it?”
Julie, my
check-in hostess, swallowed something in her throat. “I’m afraid that Mr. Rook
doesn’t manage the day-to-day operations of the island—he’s a very busy man.
However, if you have any concerns or needs—anything at all—I will be your
personal concierge for the week.” Her fake smile reappeared. “And if there’s
anything I can’t manage, the island’s executive manager, Mrs. Day, can see to
it.”
“So I won’t
get to meet the famous Mr. Rook?” I asked.
They smiled
politely, but didn’t speak. I got the distinct impression that they were not
allowed to say no to a guest.
“All right.
Is he even on the island?” I prodded.
The
receptionist offered me a bone. “Mr. Rook does have a personal residence here,
but we are not kept informed of his schedule or whereabouts. Is there anything
we can address? Any concerns?”
The two
women eyed the line of rowdy drunk guests behind me. Apparently, one of them
had to pee, a fact she happily shared with us all.
Okay, well,
if Mr. Rook didn’t run things on a daily basis, then he wasn’t the only person
with answers. Of course, the big boss would have to know if a guest went
missing, so I would still need to meet him.
“No.” I
flashed a smile to make nice. “No concerns at this time.”
“Then
follow me!” Julie turned for the hallway. “In a few short minutes, I’ll have
you on your way to a week of pure pampering and relaxation.”
“Fabulous.”
I followed behind her.
“Unless
your version of relaxation requires something more vigorous.” She glanced over
her shoulder and winked.
What’s with the damned winking? This entire place gave me the
heebie-jeebies. “Can’t wait.”
MIMI JEAN
PAMFILOFF is a USA Today and New York Times bestselling romance author.
Although she obtained her MBA and worked for more than fifteen years in the
corporate world, she believes that it’s never too late to come out of the
romance closet and follow your dream. Mimi lives with her Latin Lover hubby,
two pirates-in-training (their boys), and the rat terrier duo, Snowflake and
Mini Me, in Arizona. She hopes to make you laugh when you need it most and
continues to pray daily that leather pants will make a big comeback for men.
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