BLURB
Readers’ Favorite
Perfect for fans of Beach Read, The Unhoneymooners, and Part of Your World—this witty second chance romance is a sun-drenched escape with heart, heat, and humor.A fling wasn’t on her vacation itinerary. Neither was falling in love with the one man she’d already run from.
Romance has ghosted, gaslit, and gone full Shakespearean tragedy on Sofia Drake. She’s officially a one-woman rom-com with no third act in sight, ready to bolt if love sneaks up on her again.
Freshly dumped and jobless, Sofia is mid-pity-party (yes, wine and ice cream are involved) when a friend drags her to a job fair. If she’d known how a chance meeting would blow up her carefully constructed life, she would’ve stayed home. One look into Ryan Hunter’s crystal blue eyes and she can tell he’s trouble. He’s gorgeous, charming, and way too young. He’s also the first man in years to make her feel a real, rocket-exploding kind of heat. But when the jet-setting Ryan invites her on a spontaneous trip to Barcelona, Sofia does what she does best: she runs.
It takes a kick from her best friend (a “get a life” lecture) to move Sofia out of her comfort zone and onto a plane to Barcelona—alone. No men, no pressure, just a solo adventure. At least… until she runs straight into the one man she swore she’d never see again.
Now, Ryan is offering to be her personal tour guide, and Sofia is breaking her own ‘no men’ rule for a new one: keep it vacation-only. Sun, sangria, and maybe a little sizzle. They make a pact for the summer: Thirty days—no falling in love, no risky complications. Really.
Sometimes the best adventures happen when you finally stop running from what scares you the most.
“The Vacation Bubble will resonate with readers who crave wanderlust, sizzling chemistry, and second chances.” Readers’ Favorite
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EXCERPT
Sofia – the meet cute #1 San Francisco job networking event
It was his voice I heard first—deep, with a sexy tone that rumbled through me.
“I’m in the mergers and acquisitions department. Possibly you’re acquainted with the bank?” he asked the balding man next to him. “It’s a global company whose headquarters are located here in San Francisco and in London. We’re looking for fresh talent, someone with experience in finance. The organization has an excellent training program.”
The line moved up, but I hung back, waving at people to take the place in front of me. Obvious? A few sideways glances confirmed that my chivalry wasn’t going unnoticed.
His voice came from my right, only a few feet away. I shifted in my high heels and casually pretended to brush a piece of lint off my shoulder, then caught sight of him. It may have been only four or five seconds, but as my eyes raked across his features, time seemed to slow, as if watching a movie at half speed. To say he was gorgeous wouldn’t do him justice. That face belonged on the cover of GQ magazine. Tall, dark, and handsome with refined, perfectly symmetrical features, luscious full lips, and, God help me, a chiseled jawline resembling Adonis. That was the moment I knew I was in trouble.
He continued his pitch to the short man in a suit. The man wasn’t over thirty-five, but the back of his head was already thinning. Sexy guy stood over six feet tall, his bronzed olive skin and tousled dark curls effortlessly stylish without seeming overdone. Even his clothes were sexy, although it was more about the way they fit his frame. My eyes scanned him from bottom to top, taking in his leather shoes, indigo-blue designer jeans, a white-collared shirt, and a black sport coat cut close to his body, revealing broad shoulders that led to a slender waist in a V shape. When he raised his arm to retrieve a business card, his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his jacket. Holy shit.
A buzzing sound rang in my ears, muting the conversation, but I watched as his face broke into a wide smile, dimples forming like perfect punctuation marks on his cheeks. Without warning, his head swiveled a fraction to the right and his eyes caught sight of mine—sparkling, deep blue eyes that held me transfixed for a split second. Then, in one swift (not obvious at all) move, I brought my hand to my hair and, as I flicked it over my shoulder, my gaze shifted to the blond woman directly in front of me. Thank God I was next in line.
A flush bloomed on my face, not solely due to the hot flash racing up my neck. Stop right there, missy, I told myself. He’s too young, probably in his thirties. I’d never needed a drink so desperately. Forcing my view straight ahead, I ordered a gin and tonic when I reached the edge of the bar.
“Make it two, please,” his voice rang in my ear.
Author Info
Marcella Steele is an American author/screenwriter who now writes with her laptop precariously balanced on a café table in Barcelona, but can sometimes be found dreaming up stories on a terrace in Bali or on a balcony in Paris. Marcella champions the radical idea that women over forty are just getting started and her contemporary romance/women’s fiction novels celebrate love, passion, and self-discovery at any age. With her passion for travel, she delights in bringing the reader along to discover the magic of faraway places. When she’s not writing, she’s planning her next adventure or practicing her spins on a salsa dance floor.
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