Lonely Hearts by C. R. Riley

I was supposed to be here on my honeymoon.

Instead, I’m alone. Heartbroken. Dumped weeks ago by a man who didn’t have the guts to end it before the invitations went out.

The trip was nonrefundable—so I came anyway, hoping a little sun might fix what he broke.

What I didn’t expect was the very public breakdown I had at the check-in counter. Or the man who witnessed it.

Geoff.

He works for the resort—flirty, frustratingly gorgeous, and entirely too confident. He offered me his private cottage without blinking. I probably should’ve asked more questions… but I was tired, angry, and completely wrecked.

Geoff was trouble. I saw that from the start. But he made me laugh when I didn’t think I could.

Then he collapsed.

No warning. No time to think. Just him, on the floor, struggling to breathe.

Good thing I’m a paramedic.

Author Bio

C. R. Riley doesn’t believe in rules when it comes to romance. Her books are bold, emotional, and unapologetically steamy, spanning tropes like enemies to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, secret pasts, and forbidden attraction. What ties them all together? Deep emotional connection, crackling sexual tension, and characters who love like it’s the only thing keeping them alive.

Writing across sub-genres, C. R. thrives in the chaos of big emotions, tough choices, and the kind of love that doesn’t come easy—but always feels earned. Her goal is simple: give readers stories they feel in their chest and remember long after the final page.

Excerpt

“What do you mean my reservation was canceled?” A woman screeches at the check-in desk clerk. It is so high-pitched that it echoes down the hallway, reaching my office.

“I booked it, not the ass-faced motherfucker who called off our wedding. And I didn’t cancel it. When was it canceled? The confirmation email came a few weeks ago. I almost canceled, then decided I could wallow here just as easily as at home, so I confirmed and received a thank you one in return. See!” There is a grunt, and what I think must be the stomping of her sandaled foot before she goes on. “I figured here I wouldn’t have to field questions about my sanity or if I was doing okay. No! No, I’m not fucking okay. But you can’t say that, or they give you pity eyes and…”

The ranting stops abruptly. The room falls into a heavy silence before the clerk finally responds in a hushed tone. “Let me double-check the name again in case I spelled it wrong.”

After another bite of my pork sandwich and a sip of refreshing guava lemonade, I shove my chair away from the desk. The clicking I hear from his keyboard is way more than should be necessary if he’s only retyping her name to double-check the reservation. Maybe the system’s having trouble keeping up with the new updates I’m installing. It’s doubtful, but there’s always a chance.

As I step out of the office, the only other sounds I hear are from the island. Waves lap against the docks as the seagulls squawk. It’s peaceful and the perfect place to get away from the hassle of real life. No traffic or crowd noise. Why our guests love it here, and why I’m taking a few extra days after updating our system.

Once I enter the hall and get a better view of the reception area, the issue becomes apparent. The clerk can’t be older than nineteen or twenty. I doubt he’s had much experience handling a woman on the edge. This one has her head pressed flat against the counter, mumbling obscenities through a shaky, pissed-off voice.

With each step closer, the image of the doubled-over female becomes clearer. Dark locks intertwined with bold red streaks cascade over her face, piquing my curiosity. The way it shines and catches the light as she moves her head back and forth has my overactive brain thinking very dirty thoughts. Ignoring those thoughts, I confidently step up behind her, casually resting an elbow on the counter.

When he notices me, the clerk glances up with wide eyes. “Mr. Geoff. Is there something I can help you with? Should I ring Mario?”

The woman raises her head and locks eyes with me. Emotion-filled mossy green eyes kick me right in the gut, hypnotizing me almost immediately. I fight the urge to wipe the dark streaks of mascara running down her cheeks while making a promise to fuck all her sadness away for good. Now is not the time. I need to keep this professional and see what I can do to help fix her crisis.

“Let’s help Miss…” I didn’t catch her name, so I gesture for one of them to fill me in.

“Archer,” she says, her words interrupted by a sudden hiccup. “Cora Archer.”

I reach for the box of tissues at the end of the counter and hand it to her. “Let’s help Miss Archer get her reservation straightened out.”

Jon’s eyes widen, and he swallows nervously. “I wish I could, Mr. Geoff, but I don’t have one for her. All I’ve found is a canceled reservation. It was made two days ago by the other guest listed on the booking. A Mr.—”

“Troy tiny dick Bradley,” the scorned woman growls, as she uses a tissue to smear mascara across her blotchy cheeks. “Wasn’t it enough that he ruined my life by running off to New Zealand one month before our wedding? Now he has to ruin the fucking trip of a lifetime that my brother practically forced me to take after everything went to hell? Can’t I un-cancel it?”

Jon takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before delivering another round of devastating news. “I wish I could say yes, Miss. But the resort is booked solid. No rooms or cottages are available.”

“She can have mine,” I blurt without thinking where the hell I’ll sleep for the next week while on this beautiful island.

I’m not above roughing it. Most of the island is uninhabited. I could easily find a spot on a secluded beach to pitch a tent and experience nature at its finest. My business partners and I used to go on wilderness hikes, where we’d sleep on the ground with only our knapsacks. I was younger then, but it might be nice remembering what it was like back in the day. It could offer me a chance to deeply examine my life, which is something I plan to do during my stay.

“You don’t have to do that.” With a determined look on her face, Cora digs through her bag. “I’m sure if I head back to one of the other…”

I don’t know why, but I put my finger on her lips to shush her. “She can have mine. I’ll manage. Make it happen.”

Jon’s fingers fly across the keyboard in a frenzy as he nods in understanding. “Should I charge her card—”

“It’s on the house,” I cut him off from continuing. “If you need to charge an account, use mine. Give her the full package. Top of the line. Treat her as you would, Mrs. Cristiano.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Geoff.” And I don’t miss the smirk on his face as he peeks up to look at the woman staring at me, shocked.

“Who are you?” Cora whispers, her voice barely audible as she blinks back the tears. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“I do. I can’t have a woman as beautiful as you thinking all men are like your douchebag ex.” Snagging a tissue, I do my best to wipe away the black streaks off her face. “While I’m not perfect and have broken a few hearts over the years, I’ve never sunk so low. I have my personal standards, even if they may not always be considered respectable.”

“I can pay you back.”

Just as she goes to retrieve something from her bag, I seize her wrist. “You’ll offend me if you so much as try.”

The situation is becoming tense, and if I don’t leave now, I might propose that we share it instead.

She sighs deeply, her shoulders drooping in resignation as she concedes to my offer. “Fine. How big is the cottage? How many bedrooms?”

Jon responds without checking with me first. He was too focused on getting her settled to catch the slight shake of my head. “Three. Mr. Geoff has the largest one on the island. It has a standing reservation for the owners and their friends. You will be very comfortable.”

Shut up, Jon.

Her eyes betray the lingering question on the tip of her tongue, though she remains silent. She wants to know which of those I am. Am I the owner of the cottage? Or a friend?

I have zero intention of revealing that. My partners and I like to keep a low profile when we visit. Jon shouldn’t have said anything, and by the expression now plastered on his face, he’s aware.

“Sorry, Mr. Geoff. I didn’t… please don’t have me fired.”

Stepping back, I offer him reassurance in my calm, soothing voice. “It’s fine. I need to get back to work. You can make it up to me by escorting her to the cottage. Call housekeeping. Tell them to clean it first and bring my belongings to the main offices.”

“Wait.” In a last-ditch effort, Cora latches a hand onto my shirttail, her grip firm and determined. “It’s three bedrooms, right? We’re adults. I just need a bed to lay my head on at night. We can share the cottage. All I want is to enjoy the beach and do a little exploring. I came on this fucking non-honeymoon to put the past behind me. I’ll stay in my room and keep out of your hair. You won’t even realize I’m there.”

She’s wrong.

Even if she hides out in her room, her unique scent will linger in the air, making it impossible for me to forget she’s there. I’ll know because of the fluttering in my chest that has my blood boiling and my skin feeling too tight.

I’m utterly baffled as to why I’m about to say yes. This woman doesn’t fit my usual preferences. I’m actually quite picky, even if people don’t think so. Not to mention, I’m here to work and think, not become entangled with a woman on the rebound. There was a time I’d have gladly fucked her ex’s memory from her mind, but I’m not sure that’s why I’d be fucking this woman. I need to keep my distance, although my mouth and brain disagree.

“I suppose we can give it a shot.” With a subtle tug, I free my shirt from her hold. “At least for tonight.”

That makes her smile.

Fuck me.

Despite her present state, her smile illuminates her face, causing a tightening sensation in my chest. A cold sweat breaks out on my skin as my vision blurs. There’s a strange sensation in my mouth, like a little tingling that I can’t quite shake off.

What the hell is happening?

Am I having a heart attack or something?