Authors: Liz Matis
Little Hondo Press
Summer Dreaming – Hot in the Hamptons
Copyright © 2015 Elizabeth Matis
Digital ISBN: 978-0-9908848-2-2
Print ISBN: 978-0-9908848-3-5
Cover Design by: Billington Media
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, scanning, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Hot in the Hampton Series
I’m looking for a hero. Not.
You’d think as a new college grad I’d be looking for the perfect job and the perfect man. Well, I’m not. Summer is here and instead of plotting my future, I’m playing in the Hamptons with my two best friends. Sun and sex is all I’m looking for. Then I meet Sean Dempsey, my fantasy lifeguard in the flesh. But he is more than just a hot bod with a whistle. Much more. And after he makes a daring save, I’m thinking a hero is exactly what I’ve been looking for all along.
To the rescue…
By day I guard the beaches in the Hamptons, by night I’ve had my fair share of summer flings. Then I meet Kelsey Mitchell, a girl with eyes like the setting sun and I burn for more. Much more. Something I have no right to ask of her…forever.
Love burns hotter in the Hamptons. Come play.
Come play in the Hamptons sandbox with the Hot In the Hamptons series, a trilogy featuring SUMMER DREAMING (Liz Matis), SUMMER TEMPTATION (Wendy S. Marcus), and SUMMER SINS (Jennifer Probst). Three separate novellas. Three different authors. One summer to remember.
Read them all, or just read one. It’s up to you! But when read together you’ll find extra story scenes to enhance your reading pleasure. No matter which route you choose, these standalone novellas will make you burn.
Thank you to awesome authors Jennifer Probst and Wendy S. Marcus for taking on the Hot in the Hamptons series with me. You guys rock!
The Hot in the Hamptons Series
by Liz Matis
to the valedictorian speech. But the cliché phrases ‘Seize the day’ and ‘Seize every opportunity’ caught my attention.
If only it were that easy. Unlike my friends who had big career plans, I remained undecided of a path. But I didn’t have to worry about that today or for the whole summer. After the ceremony I was flying home to Georgia to help with my sister’s prom and high school graduation, then I was free to drive to the Hamptons in New York to spend the summer with my two best friends. One last hurrah to be young and carefree, before the adult world crashed the party.
Before Storme married her supposed Prince Charming. Not that Philip was a bad guy, but he was the wrong guy for her. Just like her business degree was wrong for her. Not that I ever said anything about either her choice in men or career. I smiled over at my friend as she tucked a stray hair under her cap. Though she tried to tame the black wild curls, she was fighting a losing battle with the heat. Meanwhile, me, with straight blonde hair would kill for a little volume.
And at summer’s end, brainiac and summa cum laude, Leigh was off to a high-powered public relations job in New York City. Only right now she looked as pale as her father who’d recently had a heart attack. Maybe she was hung over? Come to think of it, she hadn’t touched her drink last night. Leigh looked anxiously at her father in the stands. She’d been so stressed out between his illness and finals, no wonder she looked as if she were about to keel over. That had to be it, nothing a little sun and fun wouldn’t cure!
“Kelsey Mitchell, degree in Architectural Engineering and minor in Art.”
From the stands, my mom and two sisters cheered like I’d just scored a point on the Volleyball court, but there was one voice painfully absent—my father’s. I accepted my degree with unshed tears realizing this would only be the first of many milestones my dad would miss.
rom my spot
in the parking lot, I whistled at the rare beauty. Sleek and sexy, the sunlight shone off her curves. She hummed like a dream. Man, I wanted to take her for a long, fast ride.
Then like something out of a wet dream,
slid out of the dark blue 1968 Mustang Shelby GT.
I was a breast man, pure and simple. As a lifeguard for six years, I’d seen plenty. From small and perky to large and full, I didn’t discriminate. I loved the feel of the soft flesh in my hands and the way they felt pressed against my chest during sex. Loved the gentle moan of a woman responding to my mouth sucking on her nipple.
The blonde, though, had her breasts hiding behind a gold t-shirt. In white lettering the word ‘Angel’ stretched across the front. For my sake, I hoped that wasn’t true.
Because the white micro-mini skirt she wore left her long, shapely legs bare. An image of those legs wrapped around me, pulling me in deeper, revved my engines.
A woman who could handle the piece of American muscle she drove could definitely handle mine.
Man, I wanted to take the blonde for a long, slow ride.
I had to meet the owner of the hot rod and of that smoking bod, but I had no business pursuing a relationship. With the promise to my parents to wait four years fulfilled, at this summer’s end I’d be sweating it out in basic training, then heading off to God only knew. Luckily most rich girls didn’t seem to have a problem with a summer fling with a local who wasn’t husband material. I’d learned that the hard way. Twice. With a car worth about a hundred grand, she had to be loaded. She’d break my heart without a thought.
Three times a charm.
Unable to stop myself, I jumped out of my Jeep and followed her into the drugstore. Spotting the flowing mane of hair, I covertly entered the next aisle over and pretended to shop. I’d been with plenty of blondes, but she didn’t seem like the typical stuck up, wealthy Hampton summer resident. I liked that she wasn’t overly made up like all the girls who descended on my hometown each summer. I doubted she thought about makeup before hitting the beach. She was…what was the word? Breezy. Natural. Mine.
She looked up, our gazes meeting over the shelving that separated the aisle. Despite being caught staring, I couldn’t look away. The light brown eyes peeking back at me reminded me of the sun setting over the ocean after a sweltering day.
Her sweet Southern accent spoke directly to my cock. My body heated like a third-degree sunburn.
Before I could respond with even a grunt, she turned and approached the cash register. I followed, but realizing I had nothing to buy, I grabbed an item off the end cap shelving and slid in line behind her.
Nice ass, too
She turned and arched an eyebrow, catching my gaze. “Checking out my assets?”
I laughed. Funny, too. I was in trouble. My cock hardened. Big, big trouble.
“Guilty, as charged.” I noticed what she was holding. Tampons. “Bummer.”
I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“You have no idea.” She laughed and tossed the box onto the counter. Nodding to the package in my hand, she said, “Or maybe you do, huh?”
I looked down, horrified to find a package of sanitary pads.
Why couldn’t it be a box of extra large condoms?
She charmed the cashier with politeness. Or it might have been the accent, but the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ flowed naturally from her mouth. Yes, she definitely wasn’t the typical Hampton summer resident, except she didn’t spare me another glance as she left the store.
I tossed the offending package I held into a bin by the door and followed her yet again. Was I crossing the line into stalker territory? “Wait up,” I shouted.
But she was already waiting outside the door with a big smile. “Did you forget something?” She nodded to my empty hands.
Relieved that she hadn’t run off, I slowed and we naturally fell into step as we walked to her car.
“The truth is, I’d just gotten back to my Jeep when you pulled in. I had to meet you.”
Had to. Wanted to. Needed to. Same difference. “Are you here for the summer?”
“Yes, and you?”
“I lifeguard over at Main Beach.” We reached her car door. I stuck out a hand. “Sean Dempsey.”
A graceful hand stretched out. I noted the lack of nail polish as her long fingers slid into my palm. There was no cliché electric shock when we touched but my cock ached, already anticipating her silky grip around my thick base.
No last name. Smart girl.
The light in her eyes dulled. What did I say? Did she think I was only after her for a chance to drive her car? For the first time in my life it seemed like I’d blown a pickup but that didn’t bother me as much as the sadness in her eyes did.
After a moment she said, “It belonged to my Dad.”
Belonged? Past tense
. “I’m sorry.”
Uh-oh. Tears. I should run while I had the chance but I stood rooted to my spot, fascinated by the way her eyes seemed to swim in sunshine. Fascinated by her.
lip to keep the tears at bay. Just what a cute guy wanted, a girl with her period and on the edge of hysterics. Only the tampons weren’t for me.
I peeked up, his once flirty blue eyes now filled with concern. He looked sincerely sorry. And not the ‘Shit, I’m not getting laid tonight’ type of sorry. There was no way for Sean to know that while the car was a beautiful memory of my father’s love, it was also a constant reminder that my Dad was gone. My heart tightened in grief.
What did one say to ‘I’m sorry’ regarding the death of a loved one? Even after one year, I couldn’t figure that out. It wasn’t like it was Sean’s fault. I said a lame, “Thank you.”
The standard awkward silence I knew to expect followed. Actually, I found any silence unsettling. It made me say stupid thinks like, “Is that a torpedo buoy in your shorts or are you just happy to see me”. My lame attempt at lifeguard humor was thankfully thwarted as a blaring horn broke the morning quiet. I looked to the road to see a bunch of girls, obviously beach bound, waving out the car windows. “Hey, Sean.”
With his gorgeous face and a lean but muscular body, I wasn’t surprised to witness his popularity with the ladies, but he didn’t turn his head to the road, instead he kept his gaze on me. Interesting.
But was he going to ask me out or not? I may be a feminist but as a Southern lady—snort—it was bred into me that a gentlemen asked for the first date, paid for the first date, and initiated the first kiss. Not that there were many gentlemen left in the world. And I wasn’t always the perfect Southern lady. Most of the time, I was. Sometimes. When it suited me.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Sean,” I blurted and swung the car door open.
“Wait.” He touched my arm and then backed away, dragging a hand through his wavy black hair. “Can I get your number?”
Besides playing it safe, I believed in having the ball in my court, so I said. “No, but you can give me yours.” I offered a smile to soften the blow of my refusal.
His face registered shock. He probably never had to work at getting a girl before. As a lifeguard, he’d just twirl his whistle, flex his bicep, flash that bad boy smile and the beach bunnies would simply drop their bikini bottoms. How many girls had feigned drowning to get those lips of his on hers?
I never gave much thought to that part of a man’s anatomy, but Sean’s promised soft kisses. Now I bit my lip for an entirely different reason.
Sean shot off his number and I entered it into my phone. “Got it.” I waved the phone in the air and slid into the car. He shut the door, leaned his corded forearms on the frame of the open window, and dipped his head. “You’re not playing me?”
I swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel to keep from pulling that beautiful boy into my car for a make-out session right in the middle of the drugstore parking lot.
“I don’t play games.” I was just being safe the way my dad had taught me to be and besides I liked to take the lead with men. It threw them off balance. As soon as I got to Storme’s house, I’d Google Sean Dempsey, before checking out the popular social media sites to make sure he wasn’t a serial dater or a psychopath.