Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!) by Kim Linwood

date, they managed to pick my favorite. Mom would bring me here for my birthdays. It’s almost too much of a coincidence, but I know Chef Dominguez is famous in the area, so sending us here might be exactly that. A coincidence.
    Unless Hunter’s finally figured out that I’m, well, me.
    Turning away from the worn wooden steps up the beach to the restaurant, I follow Hunter, catching up on the edge of the sand.
    “I’ll race you to the point over there,” he says, not bothering to look at me.
    “What? I don’t think either of us are dressed for racing.” I gesture down to my heels. I’d look like an idiot trying to even walk there through the sand.
    “Not dressed for swimming. Not dressed for racing. I’m not sure you’ll make a very fun wife. Is there anything you are dressed for?” He throws his hands out with an exasperated sigh.
    “I dunno... dinner? Light dancing maybe.”
    “Lame. Fuck dinner.”
    “I’d rather not, but if that’s your thing I suppose it’s better to find out sooner rather than later.”
    With a laugh, he unties his shoes. “C’mon, you can do this. You’re scrappy.” His tone is teasing. “Unless you’re chicken.”
    “What are you, twelve?” A smile comes unbidden to my lips. This is exactly what we were like at that age.
    “Bok bok bok.” He imitates chicken sounds while peeling off his socks.
    Two small kicks and I’m gone. His shoes are much more practical than mine, in every single way but one.
    How easy they are to take off.
    He’s still peeling off his other sock when I go for it, running down the sand as quickly as I can.
    “Cheater!” He laughs and picks up the chase.
    I know I don’t have a chance. He’s bigger than me, stronger than me, and I’m positive he’s faster than me. An early start is the only possible way I have to at least put in a good showing. It’s not exactly made for running, but I’m glad Amanda’s dress is only a little short on me, not short and tight.
    I’m halfway there when he comes up behind me. The sand muffles our steps, but we’re both laughing as we run. Pulling on every little bit of power in my body, I literally pound sand in a hopeless attempt at getting to the small outcropping before him.
    I don’t know why I bother. Suddenly he’s right next to me, still wearing one of his socks. That’s going to be horrible in his shoe later, so in a way, I did win. A little. He could pull past easily, but instead he matches speeds with me.
    “What?” I gasp, barely getting words out between steps. “Not... enough... to... win?”
    He grins, breathing fast but looking otherwise completely unaffected. Meanwhile, I think my chest is going to explode. Nope, I never had a chance.
    We’re almost there, probably less than a hundred feet to go. I briefly consider tripping him, but odds are that I’d go down first if I try. Maybe if—
    His hands suddenly swoop around my waist and pick me up. I yelp in surprise, but he barely slows down, carrying me like I weigh nothing, curled up in his arms. What is he—
    “Hunter!” I pound my fist on his shoulder.
    He ignores me until he’s at the water’s edge, where he stops. For a second, he moves as if to toss me into the water and I shriek, clinging to him.
    “There. It’s a tie.”
    I’m way too aware of his heartbeat under my hand, and his strong arms around me. I close my eyes and breathe him in, not even pulling away as he lowers me gently to the ground.
    My toes are buried in the cool, damp sand, as we stand chest to chest. “You can let go,” I whisper.
    “So can you,” he points out. “And what if I don’t want to?” He looks down at me, his face uncomfortably close to mine. He seems to have worked through whatever was bothering him earlier.
    His lips come closer while his bright blue eyes dare me to stop him. A little kiss wouldn’t be so bad, right? It’s what I’d be expected to do if I was really a contestant. I’m not tricking him into anything. It’s what we