Love Is In The Air-Feat. The Broken Prince by Jewell Allen

About the book 

He's cocky, irresistible, and can't remember who he is.

Brooke Hill has had her share of rude boat renters at Lake Powell, but nothing like the hunky and insufferable tourist who rents a boat under the ridiculous alias John Wayne, aka Duke. To her dismay, when Duke falls in a slot canyon and suffers from amnesia, her brother Oscar takes him in and gives him a job as a boat mechanic. Guess who has to train him? After several false starts, their clueless new employee turns out to be a pretty decent mechanic whom she finds hard to resist…until the explosive revelation of his true identity.
Read an excerpt

She took his paddle and watched as he bent at the waist in one smooth movement. Thinking of his head injury, she said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Still, he did a handstand on the paddle board. “I’m doing it,” he said, triumphant, “I’m doing it—”

He tipped over with a spectacular splash. When he came up surfacing for air, she worried for a moment. But he seemed fine, snorting with laughter. With a mischievous smirk, he swam towards her.

“Oh, no you don’t!” she said, just as he reached over and pulled her leg, making her lose her balance. She fell backwards and crashed into the water. Sputtering, she surfaced. “The paddles,” she gasped.

She got one and he got the other, laughing. Then he used the paddle to splash water on her. She splashed right back until they went all out in a water fight. 

“You’ve asked for it,” he said, and she stuck her tongue out at him before swimming off to her board. It was hard swimming with a paddle in hand. His arms went around her waist and she squealed.

“Let me go!” she said. She turned in her arms and was about to pound playfully on his chest when she caught the expression in his eyes.

Intense. Hungry.

Her smile died as her chest tightened. Their faces were close together, his breath warm on her lips. She might as well be underwater; her lungs had forgotten to function. Droplets of water hung from his long dark lashes. A lock of his wet hair had flipped over his forehead, like some wild rock star. She had the sudden urge to reach up and run her fingers through the strands.

And then she remembered: she needed to keep her distance. She pushed firmly against his chest until he let her go.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice husky.

She turned and swam off, her skin still tingling from his touch. Wanting to return to him and scuttle all common sense to the wind.

What was wrong with her? Why did she always fall for the guy who wasn’t available? He wouldn’t be when he recovered from his amnesia, anyway. He had a life back home somewhere.

Buy the book 

Amazon