A fake wedding meant to help out two people becomes complicated when feelings enter the picture in this small town contemporary romance. Keep reading to get a tempting taste of Hott Take by Serena Bell, then add this charming and sizzling romance to your bookshelf. In honor of this second installment in the Hott Springs Eternal series make sure to fill out the form below for the chance to win a $25 Amazon GC too!
The hard part isn’t acting like we’re falling for each other. It’s pretending we’re not.
Shane: My grandfather’s will has me between a rock and a Hott place. If I don’t score a celebrity wedding, my sister will lose her wedding planning business—and our family’s land. As a playboy movie star, I know Hollywood’s ins and outs. But finding two celebrities in love is tougher than it looks.
Enter Ivy Scofield—the beautiful star of one of TV’s most beloved failures. She’s hiding from her past in Rush Creek, running a community theater for troubled kids. She needs my family’s wedding barn to save her program. So we make a deal: I give her the barn—she gives me her hand in fake marriage. Lights, camera, action—and cut—right?
Not so fast. Planning our fake wedding is way more personal than I was expecting. I’m learning Ivy’s quirks, preferences, and pet peeves—and that’s before I walk in on her enjoying my most infamous on-camera scene. Plus she’s slowly peeling back my layers—the ones I’ve built up to protect myself. If someone doesn’t do something soon, we might discover that the only thing fake about this wedding is the way we keep pushing each other away.
EXCERPT:
You know how sometimes you torture yourself even though you know it’s a terrible idea?
The house is empty. The security guard who Tuck found for me is gone now that the initial buzz about the wedding has died down a bit and Shane’s assistant and publicist have taken control of the messaging. My security detail will rejoin me closer to the wedding and be at my side through all the pre-wedding festivities, but for now, it’s just me.
I saunter into the living room like it’s nothing. Like I’m not about to do what I’m about to do. This makes zero sense because there’s nobody to pretend for, but...
Well, all the world’s a stage, and I’m my own best audience.
I turn on my TV setup. I flip through my choices—I could rewatch Crash Landing on You (one of my comfort binges) or I could start Queen Charlotte...
Still pretending I’m not doing this.
Or I could watch the second Crown of Spires movie. Dark Skies. The one with the infamous spire sex scene. It’s a terrible idea. What good could possibly come of it?
I hover my finger over the remote button.
You know how this ends.
I cue it up.
And wow.
All things being equal, I probably wouldn’t be the biggest fan of the Crown of Spires series. I don’t usually love fantasy. But this is a terrific story. The redemption arc for Lord Extyllior is killer...and Shane is playing it to the hilt. Wounded hero with a brutal past, trying his best to be a good person for the woman he loves. And it’s obvious he loves her with every cell of his very, very hard body (and generous soul).
Lord Extyllior’s one of those men who holds himself back, denies himself what he wants...and then falls really fucking hard.
And like a lot of women, I’m a sucker for that kind of man.
By the time their enemies track them down, by the time Lord Extyllior, exhausted near to death from his flight with the woman he won’t admit he loves, is forced to stop and find a safe spot to spend the night, I’m all in. Like, holding my breath, biting my lip, wringing my hands, sweating bullets all in.
He flies the two of them to the top of the world, to the highest spire in the kingdom. Because that’s the only place he knows they’re safe, and he will stop at nothing to protect her—even though he won’t tell her how he feels about her. (To protect her! Sigh!)
His plan is to lash them both to the spire, back to back, so they can get some sleep, regroup, marshal his forces, and fight.
But seeing her like that—bound to the spire, the leather straps he’s torn off his own clothes biting into the softness of her skin—snaps the last thread of his self-control. So when she says “Mav—”
It’s the first time she’s used his first name, Mavryx.
There’s pleading in her voice.
He can’t resist her, even though he knows he should. She’s so good, and he’s so bad for her.
It’s because he’s such a bad man that he kisses her.
And then—
It’s all over. All the self-denial, all the waiting, all the pushing her away. He’s kissing her and kissing her, and I have to
admit, it’s one of the hottest on-screen kisses I’ve ever seen. Like, on fire hot—or maybe that’s me, peeling back the blanket I threw over myself and fanning my face as his hands roam her body, wrapping over the leather strap at her wrists.
I’m expecting a fade to black, but I should have known better. This is the famous spire sex scene after all, not the famous spire kiss scene.
Think Bridgerton but hundreds, thousands of feet in the air. Skirts shoved out of the way. Breeches unlaced. Mavryx’s back is aglow with effort, bunching and releasing, and that’s before the camera gives us his gloriously naked ass, demonstrating to the tepid thrusters of this world how it’s done. Every last muscle in his body is taut with effort, his hands gripping the spire over their heads, his wings spread, shoulder muscles carved from stone.
Holy. Shit.
And at the same time...
I hate the camera right now.
Because as much as I love all the tanned, ripped man on-screen, I’m not seeing what I most want to see. I want the camera
on Shane’s face. I want to see his eyelids heavy with pleasure, his pupils blown, his lips swollen, mouth open—
“Oh, Christ, I’m sorry—”
Mavryx is on-screen and also in my living room, hands up in the universal symbol of I’m not going to hurt you. Not Mavryx. Shane. Shane is in my living room, and it’s like coming down from a thousand feet up. Rushing back into my body from a hundred yards away. It’s like a collision with the Mack Truck of reality.
He takes a step back, looking like he, too, has been hit with a truck. “Ive, I am so sorry— I could hear that you were watching something, and I rang and knocked and texted you, but you didn’t hear it—”
He’s backing away.
Because I’m sprawled back on the couch, hand tucked between my squeezed-together thighs.
My face flames. I rip my hand away from the soft, hot place between my legs and grab for the remote. But I’m too late. “Is that...?” Shane has caught sight of the TV. His eyebrows go way up at the sight of himself in his full-on, reverse-side
glory.
The house is empty. The security guard who Tuck found for me is gone now that the initial buzz about the wedding has died down a bit and Shane’s assistant and publicist have taken control of the messaging. My security detail will rejoin me closer to the wedding and be at my side through all the pre-wedding festivities, but for now, it’s just me.
I saunter into the living room like it’s nothing. Like I’m not about to do what I’m about to do. This makes zero sense because there’s nobody to pretend for, but...
Well, all the world’s a stage, and I’m my own best audience.
I turn on my TV setup. I flip through my choices—I could rewatch Crash Landing on You (one of my comfort binges) or I could start Queen Charlotte...
Still pretending I’m not doing this.
Or I could watch the second Crown of Spires movie. Dark Skies. The one with the infamous spire sex scene. It’s a terrible idea. What good could possibly come of it?
I hover my finger over the remote button.
You know how this ends.
I cue it up.
And wow.
All things being equal, I probably wouldn’t be the biggest fan of the Crown of Spires series. I don’t usually love fantasy. But this is a terrific story. The redemption arc for Lord Extyllior is killer...and Shane is playing it to the hilt. Wounded hero with a brutal past, trying his best to be a good person for the woman he loves. And it’s obvious he loves her with every cell of his very, very hard body (and generous soul).
Lord Extyllior’s one of those men who holds himself back, denies himself what he wants...and then falls really fucking hard.
And like a lot of women, I’m a sucker for that kind of man.
By the time their enemies track them down, by the time Lord Extyllior, exhausted near to death from his flight with the woman he won’t admit he loves, is forced to stop and find a safe spot to spend the night, I’m all in. Like, holding my breath, biting my lip, wringing my hands, sweating bullets all in.
He flies the two of them to the top of the world, to the highest spire in the kingdom. Because that’s the only place he knows they’re safe, and he will stop at nothing to protect her—even though he won’t tell her how he feels about her. (To protect her! Sigh!)
His plan is to lash them both to the spire, back to back, so they can get some sleep, regroup, marshal his forces, and fight.
But seeing her like that—bound to the spire, the leather straps he’s torn off his own clothes biting into the softness of her skin—snaps the last thread of his self-control. So when she says “Mav—”
It’s the first time she’s used his first name, Mavryx.
There’s pleading in her voice.
He can’t resist her, even though he knows he should. She’s so good, and he’s so bad for her.
It’s because he’s such a bad man that he kisses her.
And then—
It’s all over. All the self-denial, all the waiting, all the pushing her away. He’s kissing her and kissing her, and I have to
admit, it’s one of the hottest on-screen kisses I’ve ever seen. Like, on fire hot—or maybe that’s me, peeling back the blanket I threw over myself and fanning my face as his hands roam her body, wrapping over the leather strap at her wrists.
I’m expecting a fade to black, but I should have known better. This is the famous spire sex scene after all, not the famous spire kiss scene.
Think Bridgerton but hundreds, thousands of feet in the air. Skirts shoved out of the way. Breeches unlaced. Mavryx’s back is aglow with effort, bunching and releasing, and that’s before the camera gives us his gloriously naked ass, demonstrating to the tepid thrusters of this world how it’s done. Every last muscle in his body is taut with effort, his hands gripping the spire over their heads, his wings spread, shoulder muscles carved from stone.
Holy. Shit.
And at the same time...
I hate the camera right now.
Because as much as I love all the tanned, ripped man on-screen, I’m not seeing what I most want to see. I want the camera
on Shane’s face. I want to see his eyelids heavy with pleasure, his pupils blown, his lips swollen, mouth open—
“Oh, Christ, I’m sorry—”
Mavryx is on-screen and also in my living room, hands up in the universal symbol of I’m not going to hurt you. Not Mavryx. Shane. Shane is in my living room, and it’s like coming down from a thousand feet up. Rushing back into my body from a hundred yards away. It’s like a collision with the Mack Truck of reality.
He takes a step back, looking like he, too, has been hit with a truck. “Ive, I am so sorry— I could hear that you were watching something, and I rang and knocked and texted you, but you didn’t hear it—”
He’s backing away.
Because I’m sprawled back on the couch, hand tucked between my squeezed-together thighs.
My face flames. I rip my hand away from the soft, hot place between my legs and grab for the remote. But I’m too late. “Is that...?” Shane has caught sight of the TV. His eyebrows go way up at the sight of himself in his full-on, reverse-side
glory.
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AUTHOR INFO:
USA Today bestselling author Serena Bell writes contemporary romance with heat, heart, and humor. A former journalist, Serena has always believed that everyone has an amazing story to tell if you listen carefully, and you can often find her scribbling in her tiny garret office, mainlining chocolate and bringing to life the tales in her head.
Serena’s books have earned many honors, including an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award, Apple Books Best Book of the Month, and Amazon Best Book of the Year for Romance.
When not writing, Serena loves to spend time with her college-sweetheart husband and two hilarious kiddos—all of whom are incredibly tolerant not just of Serena’s imaginary friends but also of how often she changes her hobbies and how passionately she embraces the new ones. These days, it’s stand-up paddle boarding, board-gaming, meditation, and long walks with good friends.
Serena’s books have earned many honors, including an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award, Apple Books Best Book of the Month, and Amazon Best Book of the Year for Romance.
When not writing, Serena loves to spend time with her college-sweetheart husband and two hilarious kiddos—all of whom are incredibly tolerant not just of Serena’s imaginary friends but also of how often she changes her hobbies and how passionately she embraces the new ones. These days, it’s stand-up paddle boarding, board-gaming, meditation, and long walks with good friends.
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