Contents
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Want More Camp Bexley?
Dear Reader,
Over the Moon Excerpt
More K.K. Allen Books
Acknowledgments
About K.K. Allen
Copyright
This book 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 coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by K.K. Allen
Cover Design: Qamber Designs
Cover Photography: Wander Aguiar
Editing / Proofreading: Red Adept Editing
Formatting: K.K. Allen
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Contact [email protected] with questions.
Blurb
Jamison Bexley is the one who got away.
If only I hadn’t pushed him.
Seven years ago, he was my everything.
My confidant.
My safe haven.
My best friend.
However, dating him was never an option.
Not when his eyes gravitated toward every girl in town but me.
That is, until the curse of bad timing found us both… and struck.
All it took was one night.
One big mistake.
Altering everything we could ever be.
I’m still paying for my sins all these years later.
Life has been downright cruel.
I’m working countless hours trying to hold on to the pieces of my shattered dreams.
Determined that nothing will keep me from my end goal.
Until Jamison struts back into our small town and gets a firsthand glimpse of my life.
Suddenly, he wants to be my knight in shining armor.
But I don’t need a savior.
Those moments in time are long gone.
And he’s about to realize why.
To Renee, for your endless encouragement, support, and love! Love you so much, my friend.
Prologue
JAMISON
TWO MONTHS AGO
She’s just a figure in the shadows at the end of the hallway. A curvy silhouette with her focus set on the floor-length mirror in front of her. A stranger. Yet she’s all I see.
Slow and steady breaths move her chest, like she’s working up the nerve for something big. Even from several yards away, my gaze lingers on the parts of her I can make out—her long dark hair that falls in sleek waves down her back and her downturned mouth that carries a set of full pouty lips. She stands with an almost-defensive stance, reminding me of a fighter pepping themselves up for a knockout match.
As I continue down the darkened passage from the bathroom toward her, the pulsing beat from the main room of the party adds to the adrenaline already running its course through my veins. With each passing second, my curiosity gets the better of me. Call it intuition, but a kick in my gut—a mysterious drive—tells me to check on her. To see if she’s okay. So that’s what I intend to do.
I’m several feet away from her when a tall, beefy security guard comes out of nowhere and steps in the threshold, blocking my view of the woman I was set on approaching. “Party’s that way.” The man points in the direction of the main ballroom. “This room is for dancers only. Can’t you read?”
My eyes snap to the sign on the wall beside the door, confirming what he says is true. I completely missed that before, but there it is, in thick black ink.
Dancers Only
Enter At Your Own Risk
Looking back at the sharpening eyes of the guard, I adopt the charm that has become second nature.
“I assure you, I’m not here to trespass. I didn’t see the sign. Just her.” I’m yelling over the music while I shake my head, realizing how creepy that sounded. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s fine,” the man answers gruffly. “Now move along.”
With a quick dip into my pocket, I pull out a business card and hand it to the man. “See? I’m not the trouble you think I am.”
The man wrinkles his nose. “What the fuck is this?”
I point to my name on the card. Jamison Bexley, Bexley Financial Services. “That’s me. I’m the one who hired your girls for tonight.”
The man rolls his eyes and pushes the card back to me. “Doesn’t give you an all-access pass to their dressing room. Now back the fuck up. This is your last warning.”
He grips my shoulder and starts to physically move me, but I’m too stubborn to go anywhere by force. I shake him off and take a step back. “I can see myself out.” I start to turn but not before I catch movement over the man’s shoulder. The woman’s head bows, she slips on a mask over her eyes, and then she looks back up. The mask is bunny shaped and made of rose-gold sequins. But it’s the wide, panic-stricken dark eyes staring back at me in the mirror’s reflection that steals my breath.
“Move,” booms the security guard again, this time louder, the threat in his voice crystal clear.
“Jesus, okay.” I tear my gaze away from the woman’s eyes and leave the guard with a cold, hard stare. I need a fucking drink.
Beams of color bounce off every inch of the ballroom, casting a blanket of mystery on our night of bad decisions. It’s just another wild adventure with another set of corporate clients at yet another lakefront mansion on San Juan Island. Only this time, I find myself anxious, unsettled, being that I’m closer to my hometown than I’ve been in years. Seven years, to be exact. And nothing good comes with the familiarity of the one place I swore to never return to again.