Tame Your Heart: A Small Town Romance (Bounty Bay Book 6)
Tame Your Heart
Bounty Bay Book 6
Tracey Alvarez
Icon Publishing
Copyright © 2019 by Tracey Alvarez
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Tame Your Heart - Tracey Alvarez -- 1st ed.
ISBN (Mobi) 978-0-473-47199-6
ISBN (epub) 978-0-473-47198-9
Created with Vellum
Also by Tracey Alvarez
Stewart Island Series
Book 1 In Too Deep (Piper & West) FREE
Book 2 Melting Into You (Kezia & Ben)
Book 3 Ready To Burn (Shaye & Del)
Book 4 Christmas With You (Carly & Kip)
Book 5 My Forever Valentine (Short Stories)
Book 6 Playing For Fun (Holly & Ford)
Book 7 Drawing Me In (Bree & Harley)
Book 7.5 Kissing The Bride (Shaye & Del Wedding Story)
Book 8 Saying I Do (MacKenna & Joe)
Book 9 Home For Christmas
Book 10 Bending The Rules (Tilly & Noah)
Bounty Bay Series
Book 1 Hide Your Heart (Lauren & Nate) FREE
Book 2 Know Your Heart (Savannah & Glen)
Book 3 Teach Your Heart (Gracie & Owen)
Book 4 Mend Your Heart (Natalie & Isaac)
Book 5 Break Your Heart (Vanessa & Sam)
Book 6 Tame Your Heart (Tui & Kyle)
Single Titles
Quake
Beneath The Christmas Stars
For Nicki.
You came into my life to light a fire under my butt, then stayed to become the kind of friend who lasts a lifetime.
Contents
Welcome to New Zealand!
Glossary of Maori Words
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
Connect
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Welcome to New Zealand!
Land of Lord of the Rings and the All Blacks rugby team, breathtaking landscapes, and laid-back friendly people who refer to ourselves as ‘Kiwis.’ I hope you’ll enjoy your visit with me as we travel to the subtropical Far North of New Zealand. This area of the North Island is close to my heart, as is the Maori culture.
So, kia ora and happy reading!
Glossary of Maori Words
These are simplified for the sake of brevity.
hangi – traditional New Zealand Māori method of cooking food using heated rocks buried in a pit oven
e noho rā – goodbye
haere mai – come here
hari – to be happy or to dance
hongi – to press noses in greeting
kai – food
kai moana – sea food
kapa haka – Māori performing arts
kaumatua – elderly person
kauri – native tree
kia ora – greeting
kōrero – to talk, speak or address
kumara – sweet potato
kunekune – small feral pig
kuri – dog
mana – a person or place or object’s prestige/charisma/authority/status ~ an important part of Māori culture.
mokopuna (moko for short) – grandchild
pākehā – New Zealander of European descent
whānau – family
whare – house/building
To hear the pronunciation of some of these words, check out this online Māori Dictionary!
http://maoridictionary.co.nz/
Chapter 1
Rarotonga, Cook Islands.
“I can beat that.” Tui Ngata, stretched out on a sun lounger between two of her three vacation buddies, toasted them with her piña colada. She thanked the male server and rolled her head to the side, watching as he moved to Petra’s lounger. “Remember the guy who, on our second date, deliberately ate the satay sauce when he was allergic to peanuts?” she asked.
“Ah…” Petra Markovic sent the server, who wore a sarong or pāreu in the Rarotongan traditional way, a flirtatious smile. He smiled politely back and passed over her drink. She took a long slurp. “The guy with the infamous peanut-sized kurac.”
Sitting on the other side of Tui, Allison Moore winced under her wide-brimmed hat. The four friends had known each other long enough to translate some of Petra’s more colorful Croatian words.
“Petra!” With her auburn hair and pale skin, it was hard to tell whether Allison’s cheeks were pink from a hint of sunburn or embarrassment.
“Meitaki.” Allison thanked the server, taking her glass and sending a warning glance across Tui to Petra.
“That’s pure speculation on our part.” Tui chuckled, reaching over and squeezing Allison’s hand. “There was zero chance of me ever seeing his dangly bits.”
Her friend giggled then sipped her drink.
Tui chased the straw with her balm-slicked lips, slitting her eyes against the sunshine beating down through the swaying palms. Out in the crystalline lagoon that was part of Rarotonga’s South Pacific Breeze Resort, the last of their foursome, Wikitoria Hunter, was visible only by her snorkel and black swimsuit-covered bum. Tori, as everyone called her, had been out there for ages, super-athletic freak that she was. Tui waved at her when she finally surfaced, letting her know the drinks had arrived.
Tori strolled out of the water and across the white sand. She stopped by the remaining lounger and shook herself like a dog, her long dark hair spraying the three of them with water. Petra laughingly swore at her in Croatian but passed her the bottle of beer the server had left.
“What’re we talking about?” Tori wrapped a towel around her swimsuit and peeled off her beach shoes that protected her feet from the lagoon’s coral.
“Third-date woes,” Petra said. “And the men who mysteriously vanish when you don’t put out.”
Allison checked over her shoulder before speaking. “All the good guys back home are taken.”
“Move down to Queenstown with me, sweet cheeks. Come play with the Swedish ski instructors in winter and the lookie-loo tourists in summer.” Tori sank into a lounger and offered her bottle to tap against Alli’s.
“I agree with Alli.” Petra screwed up her nose. “Now that Tui’s hottie brothers are both off the market—”
“Ewww,” Tui and Tori said simultaneously.
While they were related complicatedly on their mothers’ side, the Ngata siblings and the mixed bunch of step and half siblings that m
ade up the Hunter family all considered themselves cousins.
Petra’s mouth twisted. “Just once it’d be nice to have more than one real, romantic date with a man. That first date is both of you trying too hard to impress, and if he’s not a complete jerk he’ll pull out all the romance stops. The second date is yeah, I like you enough to still wear a clean T-shirt and jeans without food stains. By the third, when he shows up in sweatpants with a greasy bag of takeout, it’s hard to believe that romance isn’t completely dead.”
“Listen to Ms. Stars-in-her-eyes over here,” Tui said.
“Sadly, she isn’t too far off the mark. At least as far as romance goes in Bounty Bay.” Allison took another sip of her drink and sighed. “This is why I haven’t been on a date for six months.”
Tui slanted her friend a look, noting the hunch of her shoulders and the tight lines deepening around her mouth. They all knew that wasn’t the real reason Allison hadn’t been on a date. Not that she was one to judge.
Petra, who was like a mother lioness with her cubs as far as her friends were concerned, cast sympathetic eyes toward Allison. “You should let me find a nice man for you. I’ll make sure he treats you like a princess.”
Tui laughed. “Screw that. We’ll find you a man that treats you like a queen. A princess has no power, and you, my friend, are a powerful, gorgeous queen of a woman.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Tori. “And I’ve just thought of a fun little challenge for us.”
“If it’s a footrace around the island, I’m out.” Tui recrossed her ankles on the lounger. “I’m not moving from this spot.” She loved the feel of sunshine turning her olive complexion into a dark-caramel tan. Thanks to her Māori heritage, she tanned fast without burning. An unusually wet spring back in New Zealand meant her days at the beach were almost nonexistent.
“It’s not a physical challenge.” Tori rolled her eyes, then mischievous dimples appeared in her cheeks. “Unless we want it to be. It’s a single ladies’ challenge.”
Right. That was all of them. Happily, proudly, independently single, Tui amended. Her friends had good jobs, family that hadn’t screwed them up too badly, and they were each intelligent and beautiful in their own ways.
“Let’s hear it,” Petra said.
“For the next twelve months, the four of us will attempt to go on three romantic dates. Reporting back on next year’s girls-only vacation.”
“Isn’t that, like, a little high-school?” Allison shifted on her lounger, adjusting her brightly colored sarong over her bare legs.
“It’s not like any of us are spring chickens,” Tori said. “And speaking of eggs, some of us have already hit the big three-oh and the clock’s ticking, right, Tu?”
Ugh. Don’t remind her. It was bad enough getting the maternal hairy eyeball from her ma now that she was a bona fide grandma thanks to Tui’s eldest brother.
Tui grimaced. “Please. Like we’re all drying up and dying because we’re not married with kids wiping their snotty faces on our legs.”
“Hey—who said anything about marriage?” Tori swung her legs off the lounger and sat up. She pointed a finger at Tui. “I’m talking about three dates.”
Petra pursed her lips thoughtfully around her straw. “Three romantic dates, all with the same man?”
“Is that even possible?” Allison said.
“Yep. That’s what makes it a challenge. C’mon, it’ll be fun. Who’s in?” Tori lifted her beer in a triumphant toast to the three of them.
“Whoa. Hang on,” Tui said. “What if we fail? Are there consequences?”
“Ooh, I know.” Petra slurped the last of her drink and stood, brushing sand from the seat of her swimsuit. “Whoever doesn’t fulfil the challenge by next year’s trip agrees to allow her fellow winners to hand-select a man that they deem suitable for her to retry the challenge with.”
Allison snickered. “What are you, a lawyer now?”
Petra lifted an eyebrow. “Want me to fix you up with my neighbor?”
“Hot-pants yoga guy? Think he’s more your type, sweetie,” Tui said.
Tori huffed out an impatient sigh. “We’re not going to fail. It’s three dates. Oh—and we should be the one asking the guy out. Don’t want to get stuck with any creepers for three dates just to win the challenge.”
“We have to ask?” Allison’s brow crumpled.
Tui shot Tori a quelling glance. “Only if the guy you have in mind doesn’t ask you first. Okay with that?”
“Sure, sure,” Tori said. “Hon, you’ll be swatting those men away from you. They’ll be lining up to ask you out.”
It was Allison’s turn to roll her eyes. “Uh-huh.” Her frown returned. “But we don’t have to do more than go out with the same man three times, do we?” she said quietly.
Tui’s heart clenched in sympathy. “Absolutely not. In fact, I’m suggesting a no-one-gets-naked rule on these imaginary dates. Let’s see what these guys are made of.”
“Raging hormones,” Petra said gloomily. “This challenge just got harder. But I guess I could fit a few dates into my busy social life.”
“I’m up for it, then.” Allison grinned.
“Think you can make it to three dates with the same guy, cuz? Before you head for the hills at the first sign of him wanting to settle down, you wild child, you,” Tori said.
Tui slid her sunglasses off the top of her head and covered her eyes so that the other women wouldn’t suspect how the innocent teasing stung.
Wild child. The irresponsible, flighty one. The baby of the Ngata whānau, and a girl.
She met her cousin’s ear-to-ear grin with a wide smile of her own. “What the heck. Count me in. Maybe I’ll get a head start on you three once you leave for the airport. I saw a couple of hotties playing with a Frisbee on the beach earlier.”
Tori, Allison, and Petra were all returning home on that afternoon’s flight back to New Zealand, but because of Tui’s job flexibility she had two and a half more days of relaxation ahead. Lucky her. She planned to spend them lazing in the sun, drinking cocktails, and catching up on the stack of paperbacks she’d stashed in her suitcase. Hotties with Frisbees didn’t even make her top-ten list of things to do.
“Jeez, rub it in, why don’t you?” Petra slung her beach towel over her shoulder. “I’m going back to the room to pack before lunch.”
“Lunch!” Tori sprang to her feet. “Man, I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Allison said affectionately. “Luckily you’re a lean, mean, butt-kicking machine and you burn it all off.” She climbed off her lounger and picked up her unfinished cocktail. “You want to come save a table by the pool with me, Tu?”
“Happy to.” Tui forced a smile. “I might just have a quick dip first, okay?”
Her friends left her, chattering among themselves as they strolled toward the resort rooms. Tui sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sweet, familiar scent of the beach. Even though this beach was a three-hour flight away from the one at Bounty Bay, the ocean brine smelled the same.
With a grimace, Tui slipped on her beach shoes and untied her sarong. She strolled down to the water, the warm tiny waves surging around her ankles.
Breathe, Tu, she ordered herself. Here you can breathe.
She glanced to the left, down the long stretch of blinding white sand that backed onto the South Pacific Breeze and the other smaller, more exclusive resorts and private bungalows next to it. Her gaze skimmed over couples strolling hand in hand, kids building sandcastles, and their parents baking in the sun. A lone figure, at least two properties over, caught her eye.
It was a man wearing eye-wateringly bright orange board shorts and half facing away from her, staring out to the horizon. There was nothing remarkable about his silhouette—being broad-shouldered, tanned, and muscular were a dime a dozen here—but something about him piqued a moment’s interest.
Surrounded by other holidaymakers, he seemed to be a man set apart from the c
rowd by the way he held himself. He was alone. Maybe even a little lonely. Like her.
Tui hauled her gaze away from the man and waded into the lagoon. She refused to give into woe-is-me thinking. She still had two and a half days left of her vacation, after all.
Kyle Griffin blamed his orange swim shorts for his near-death experience. He could picture the blurred-out shot of his bare backside sticking out of the water, with the accompanying caption: Auckland architect drowns in Cook Islands snorkeling tragedy. Horrified onlookers reported he mooned the tour boat before disappearing under the waves for the final time.
At that moment he didn’t have time to worry about a random snorkeler witnessing his state of undress. Right then all his concentration was focused on not inhaling another mouthful of salt water.
He jerkily trod water with one arm and one flipper, trying to retie the cord of his too-large shorts that were slipping dangerously low again. At the same time, he scanned the coral underneath him for his lost flipper which had caused the beginning of his snorkeling drama.
A flicker of movement to his right—which caused a Jaws-like reaction to his pulse—and he glimpsed another face mask, a mass of dark hair swirling around it. The woman’s head popped out of the water but she didn’t remove the snorkel’s mouthpiece. She made a pointing gesture below and tilted her head questioningly. He was too focused on coughing seawater from his lungs to reply that, yeah, he was the idiot whose flipper had come off and sunk to a watery grave.