Breath of Fire Read online

  BREATH OF FIRE takes place in a fictional beach town called Playa Vieja. Readers first visited this seaside paradise in RIPTIDE, which tells the sexy, feisty, enemies-to-lovers story of Finn and Avery – who you met briefly in this novella.

  If you’re curious about Finn and Avery, turn the page for an excerpt from RIPTIDE.

  An excerpt from Riptide

  Finn

  When you spend three entire weeks of your life protesting a woman’s workplace every day, you feel like you get to know her a little bit.

  This is what I knew about Avery Dacosta.

  She showed up to work at exactly 7:45 am, on the dot, Monday through Friday. On Saturdays, she came in at 9. Sunday was her day of rest, although I suspected she worked from home.

  She favored dark business suits that covered every inch of her skin. She carried a brown leather briefcase like a weapon. She was poised. Smart. Take-no-prisoners. She had the mouth of a sailor, and wasn’t afraid to use it (even in front of children).

  The bongos were my idea, although Marla and Jack would have done it eventually. And I had just called my mom and invited her commune members out to our radical resistance — clothing optional, of course. I wanted to push Avery.

  The other thing I knew about Avery was that she pissed me the fuck off. Which took a lot, considering that in my almost thirty years on this earth, I’d very rarely gotten angry. Stoned? Yes. Sunburned? All the time. Slapped around by a giant wave? Of course.

  Angry? The kind that made you want to stand up and fight for what you believe in? Well, that honor went to her and her only.

  This morning, she’d stalked through the protesters like a cheetah through the plains of Africa. I’d come to expect this, these past twenty-one days. No matter where I was in the crowd, no matter what I was doing…she found me. And I’m not even sure she knew my name.

  Every morning, I tried to start our interactions off friendly.

  “Mornin’ Ms. Dacosta,” I said, as I always did. I was holding two hand-made signs, and my shoulders were starting to ache. I’d been so caught up in my thoughts that morning I’d ended up swimming and paddling in the ocean for longer than usual.

  “You’re still here?” she asked, rolling her eyes. This. This is why we always started in on each other: Avery’s incessant irritation at our very existence.

  “Every. Fucking. Day,” I said, with the biggest smile I could muster. “Until you halt construction on the hotel that will destroy our community.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. They were brown and seemed to grow darker every time we spoke. “Can I ask kind of a silly question?”

  “Sure,” I shrugged. “I’m an open book.”

  Avery waved her hands around, indicating the audience. “None of you have jobs, correct? You just spend your days fucking up other people’s jobs and attempting to stop vital economic development? Wasting away on the beach, getting high on sunscreen? Or…” she looked around, “probably other things as well.” She crossed her arms in front of her, so prim and proper I wanted to shake her. Crack her open. See what was behind the curtain.

  “No,” I said, quietly. She leaned in a little to hear me. I caught her scent — some kind of lavender. “You’re wrong, and you know that. Every person here has a full-time job. Children. Family to care for. Lives to lead. They choose, every day, to come here because Playa Vieja is our home. They’re selfless.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but I cut her off. “And just to be clear, Ms. Dacosta, their jobs might not look like yours, but they still have value. They might not be corporate robots whose only motivation is greed, but that doesn’t mean they’re any less hard-working than you are.”

  Avery stepped even closer to me, dark eyes flashing. “Selfless?” She tipped her head over to a couple of my friends smoking a joint and kicking a hacky sack around. “I’m not sure what kind of sacrifice your community is making. Every day out here is basically a Phish concert on steroids. Plus, you use up all of our free parking. And, secondly, I resent the idea that my only motivation is greed. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

  Her hands were on her hips, haughty. A wisp of hair from the tight bun on top of her head broke free. She snagged it, tucking it behind her ear.

  The door of the office opened, and a large terrifying-looking man popped his head out. “Avery? Our meeting?” She turned, smiled at him, and nodded. She hauled her giant briefcase onto her shoulder. For the first time, I noticed how packed it was. Did she really bring that much work home every night?

  “Seems we’re in a bit of a stand-off again,” I said, grabbing a joint that Rico passed my way. I took a long, hard pull on it, then exhaled the smoke through my nostrils. She almost looked impressed. “Guess I’ll just get back to my Phish concert and meaningless existence.”

  “And I guess I’ll get to work with my corporate-robot colleagues, destroying this beautiful planet.”

  I almost smiled at her in return before I realized who I was talking to.

  “Fine,” I said instead, starting to turn away.

  “Fine,” she said back, before huffing past towards the front door. I watched her walk away, the smoke from the weed burning in my chest.

  “That woman drives me goddamn insane,” I said to Rico, handing him the joint. He only looked at me, a small, secretive smile on his face. “What?” I said.

  “Nothin’, man,” he replied back. “Oh, I came up with some new chants last night. You ready to get this thing started?”

  “Always,” I replied, lifting the bullhorn to my mouth.

  Want to know what happens next with Finn and Avery? Click here!

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  BOOKS BY KATHRYN

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  RIPTIDE

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  ABOUT KATHRYN

  I'm an adventurous hippie chick that loves to write steamy romance. My specialty is slow-burn sexual tension with plenty of witty dialogue and tons of heart.

  I started my writing career in elementary school, writing about Star Wars and Harry Potter and inventing love stories in my journals. And I blame my obsession with slow-burn on my similar obsession for The X-Files.

  I'm a born-and-raised Philly girl but left for Northern California right after college, where I met my adorably-bearded husband. After living there for eight years, we decided to embark on an epic, six-month road trip, traveling across the country with our little van, Van Morrison. Eighteen states and 17,000 miles later, we're back in my hometown of Philadelphia for a bit...but I know the next adventure is just around the corner.

  When I'm not spending the (early) mornings writing steamy love scenes with a strong cup of coffee, you can find me outdoors — hiking, camping, traveling, yoga-ing.