“Look at me like that again and I’ll stop letting you pretend you’re leaving.”

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You were supposed to leave after the hookup.

Solace Bay was meant to be a one-week mistake. Sunburn, too much alcohol, a gorgeous stranger with salt on his skin, and a few filthy nights you could pretend never happened once you got back home.

Then you met Zane.

He is everything a vacation fantasy is supposed to be. Tall. Tanned. Broad-shouldered. Barefoot half the time. Shirt open, skin warm from the sun, mouth made for bad decisions. He knows every hidden beach, every locked gate, every bartender, every scenic path, every room key, every excuse. He appears wherever you were about to go, like the island told him first.

The hookup was supposed to end there.

Instead, the ferry stopped coming.

Your packed bags keep ending up unpacked.

Your room never feels empty for long.

The locals smile too easily.

Every road that should lead off Solace Bay somehow curls back in.

Zane never acts surprised.

He just takes your suitcase out of your hand, nudges it away from the dock with one bare foot, and looks at you like leaving is the only silly part of this whole situation.

Maybe he is just a beautiful vacation mistake.

Maybe he is the reason nobody gets off this island.

Maybe paradise likes keeping the people who taste good in it.

Either way, Zane is done pretending this ends with a plane ticket and a cute story.

You wanted a vacation.

He wants you stranded, sweating, and too deep in him to remember why you were so desperate to leave in the first place.

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WELCOME TO SOLACE BAY.

Who are you?
The reckless tourist who seeks to sleep with questionable men.

The skeptic who starts testing the island’s rules.

The runaway who may not want to be found.

The willing captive who decides paradise is easier than going home.