The Tryst List by Kaylene Winter
Publication date: April 11th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary,
When a man, haunted by secrets, reunites with the only woman who’s ever ignited his soul, he’ll do anything to prove he’s more than his mistakes.
From the moment I laid eyes on her in Vegas, I knew tattoo artist Jordan Deveraux was my destiny.
Our chemistry was too fiery to ignore, one night of passion could never be enough.
Walking away was agony.
Easily, the biggest regret of my life.
Years later, I’m successful and rich but still crave my siren of the sea.
Her game of pretend doesn’t mask the heat still smoldering between us.
Little does she know, I have the roadmap to turn her fantasies into reality.
Stranded in my boat, the waves aren’t the only things rocking.
Her ability to resist me sinks faster than a lead anchor.
Here’s the catch—my past isn’t as spotless as the buildings I design.
And my secrets threaten to pull us under.
Can we navigate these turbulent waters to find a future?
Or, will my mistake capsize everything?
The Tryst List is a sizzling, standalone, billionaire, enemies to lovers, forced proximity tale of second chances, where the ink of passion and the scars of the past collide.
Excerpt: The hum of tattoo machines is always music to my ears. It’s
the sweet, sweet sound of success.
Something I don't take for granted. Hard work and fortitude
is in my blood.
I’ve managed to turn my art degree into a gold mine. I
graduated from Cornish College of the Arts many years ago, but it took a while
for me to find my way. Did the starving artist thing—tried to sell my paintings
while paying the bills as a server and barista. Then came a corporate stint in
commercial design, which I absolutely hated. Leaving me with freelancing—a
nightmare through and through.
A career in the arts seemed out of reach. Well, maybe for
me. I was going nowhere.
On a whim, I sold my belongings and fled to Europe for a
year-long backpacking excursion.
Within the first couple of weeks, I met a group of tattoo
artists at a collective in Amsterdam. Immersing myself in their world, I
changed my plan. Rather than aimlessly traveling, I apprenticed and soaked up
the culture.
By the time I returned home to Seattle, I’d developed my own
style and had a small following. A few months later, I won a contest in Las
Vegas and haven’t looked back since.
Rather than work for someone else, I presented my pops with
a business proposal. It worked. He staked me with enough funds to open my shop,
The Salty Siren. Jace taught me how to cultivate a social media following.
Within a few months, I had a waiting list, paid back Dad's loan and bought a
condo.
It blows me away how far my schedule books out in advance.
For the most part I’m happy, but recent life changes have me
reconsidering a few things.
“Merc, who’s on the books today? I’m pretty sure it’s a
long-ass appointment, if memory serves.” I approach Mercury, my best friend and
shop manager. “Let me guess. Someone wants a mermaid sleeve.”
Merc, as everyone calls him, with his silver hair and
piercing blue eyes, shoots me a glare. “Careful. You’re not exuding gratitude
today. Your mermaids are legendary. People wait for over a year to get inked by
you.”
Appropriately put in my place, I flip through my sketchbook
past pages of intricate flowing tails and ethereal faces. “Oh, I know, but I
like to mix it up. Keep my chops up.”
“Well, today’s your lucky day, babe. New customer. The guy
booked over a year ago.” Merc peruses the shop’s master calendar on his tablet.
I’m barely paying attention because my fingers pause on a
page in my notebook. Amongst my designs is a list I started after Cameron and I
broke up. The “Tryst List” is my secret rebellion against the monotony of my
love life. Merc's eyes follow mine, and he raises an eyebrow.
“Oooh. What do we have here?” With a mischievous glint in
his eye, Mercury’s hand claps over mine, stopping me from turning the page.
I feel my face redden. “Uhhh…my plan to live a little. Or a
lot.” I offer a wry smile. “I'm thinking of making up for lost time, you know,
after Cameron.”
“Cameron. Ugh. Your couple vibe was definitely more cookouts
and beer than fireworks and passion. Maybe it was his uniform of khakis and
button-down shirts.” He rolls his eyes in disgust.
I can’t help but laugh. Of course, Merc would feel this way
given our affinity for grommets, leather, and chunky boots.
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