Reviews

Rating: 5 from Coffee Time Romance

Rating: 4 stars…a “satisfying” read with “super hot” sex scenes.
Just Erotic Romance Reviews (JERR)

Rating: 4 angels… ”a captivating romance.”
Fallen Angel Reviews

Rating: 4.5 stars… A fun tale, full of interesting facts and hot passion, Seducing the Hermit by Suz de Mello will increase your temperature as it enchants you with the Alaskan setting.
eCataromance

The story was catchy, the sex scenes were hot and steamy, the relationships that cultivate throughout Seducing The Hermit are touching, and the emotional turmoil that is overcome will leave you with tears in your eyes. Suz deMello has yet another hit on her hands and I highly recommend Seducing The Hermit to anyone.
Tara, Two Lips Reviews

Excerpt from Chapter One

flamboyant, flam-boy-ant: (adj): vivid, bright

Fisher Chugatt eyed the woman on the ferry approaching Takinsha Island and realized that she embodied his most recent “word of the day.”

Though he'd spent most of his life on this remote Alaskan island, his brief foray into the world convinced him that the education he'd received in Takinsha's small high school had been inadequate. Thus, the words of the day. Every morning, Fisher worked on the New York Times crossword puzzle, which always yielded something new to learn.

Ms. Flamboyant wore ankle-length, zebra print jeans that revealed fuchsia socks with fake fur trim. Her short, thin-soled boots would be useless against the fearsome Alaska winter. Her more sensible gear included a fuchsia and black parka, fuchsia gloves and a matching knitted hat. She tugged off her hat by its cutesy little pom-pom, revealing shoulder-length blond hair that whipped in the wind.

Yes, Ms. Flamboyant was definitely a babe. A hot babe.

She shoved the hat into her pocket, then stripped off her gloves, exposing ridiculously long, fuchsia painted nails. Fisher chuckled to himself. They wouldn't last.

No wedding ring. His pulse quickened.

Was flamboyant related to flambé? This woman was definitely hot, scorching hot, and Fisher wouldn't mind a little Female Flambé occasionally warming him up through the long Alaska winter.

Stop, he told himself. Chances were this girl wasn't Paige Percy, the woman he'd come to meet. The new station manager and disk jockey was most likely a hardened Hollywood type, not this slender, wide-eyed blonde. This female was probably just another day-tripping tourist, here to see the orcas, eagles and bears.

Too bad. He raised his gaze to the woman's eyes and grinned.

Paige Percy smiled at the tall, dark hunk standing in the boat docked by the Takinsha Island pier. He leaped from his boat to the surface of the wharf, agile as a sleek, sable otter. The man must have antifreeze in his veins, since he wore only khaki shorts and a faded black T-shirt in the cool Alaska summer. His skimpy clothes showed off one hell of a body, golden and muscular.

Paige shivered inside her sweater and parka. A southern California girl, born and bred, she could tolerate heat rocketing into the nineties or even triple digits in the summertime. She'd learned that in this part of Alaska, a temperature of seventy degrees Fahrenheit was unusually warm. She bet it was only in the sixties today, despite the August sunshine.

She shivered again, then remembered, you chose this, didn’t you? You wanted a change. When her company, RadioWorks USA, had acquired Takinsha Island’s only station, they’d offered her big bucks to move from L.A. to manage the place, since the previous owner was nearing retirement and unwilling to stay on for much longer. Bored and restless, she’d jumped at the chance.

The ferry bumped against the dock, and she went below to get into her faithful V.W. bug and drive it off the boat. Packed with her belongings, Old Faithful had somehow crawled from Los Angeles all the way to Bellingham, Washington, where Paige had boarded the Alaska Marine Highway, the ferry system to Takinsha.

She crammed herself into the small car, crowded with boxes and bags. Digging the key out of her purse, she started O.F. and slowly drove out, rolling and clattering over the ferry's metal bib.

When she emerged into the thin sunshine illuminating the dock, a box slipped from the top of the stack in the front seat. It fell, jamming the brake. “Shit!” She pumped furiously at the pedal, but O.F. kept rolling along the crowded dock.

Dammit, she couldn't stop her car. Images flashed by her panicked eyes. Tourists jumping out of her way, cameras swinging like misshapen pendulums. Fishermen swearing as they dodged O.F. The crunch of crab pots and assorted other gear she couldn't identify, not when it was being crushed beneath Old Faithful's tires.

The tall, dark hottie she'd seen from the ferry turned, his eyes widening. Just before the bug rolled into him, he leaped onto the hood of her car, shouting, “Jesus fucking Christ!”

Scrabbling for a grip, he grabbed a wiper. It broke off in his hand. Swatches of angry red flagged the hunk's furious face. He spread his hands on the window, plastering himself along it as best he could, bending his knees onto the hood so he wouldn't lose a leg.

Old Faithful bumped into the side of a battered red pickup truck.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Screeching with dismay, Paige dug her hand between two boxes to grab the brake below. Something snapped, probably one of her acrylic fingernails. She didn't care. Thankfully, the car had stopped before it could inflict much more damage to the truck and dock, to say nothing of the hottie.

She slumped back into her seat, panting. Tracks of sticky sweat oozed down her chest under her sweater. Damp pools soaked her armpits. Fumbling in her pocket for a tissue, she wiped her forehead with a shaky hand.

Hearing a tap, she jerked up her head. A tanned, impassive face waited outside the driver's side of the bug. The hunk appeared to have calmed from his previous fear and fury, so Paige started to roll down the window. She struggled with the cranky handle, which had stiffened from cold during the week-long ferry trip.

“Hi,” the hunk said in a conversational tone of voice. He didn't smile, but his eyes glinted. “You wouldn't happen to have car insurance, would you?”

“Oh my God!” Paige shoved the door open, whacking his midsection. He fell back with an “oof.” She exploded out of the bug. “Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”

He rubbed his belly. “I'll live. Tell me, are you always so accident prone?”

“Oh, no.” Paige opened her blue eyes wide, hoping for an earnest expression. “Normally I'm a very good driver.”

“Of course.” His smile didn't reach his cool, dark gaze. Damn. Her innocent routine hadn't impressed him. He leaned against the side of her car with an easy, masculine grace. “But have you noticed that everyone thinks he or she is a good driver?”

She gaped. Had she just been insulted? “Uh, uh, I guess you're right.” She searched her memory. “I can't think of anyone who's ever said he's a bad driver.”

“Precisely my point.” He scrutinized her car, his slightly narrow, Asiatic eyes lingering first on a scrape in the door and then on the twisted antenna. He walked to the front, where he no doubt noticed the dents in the hood.

“They're not my fault,” she said defensively. Besides, he had a lot of nerve. His old clunker was hardly an advertisement for its owner's good driving habits.

The hunk tipped his head to one side like a curious raven. His long black hair, tied neatly at his nape with a leather cord, shone in the sun. “Did I say something?”

“Uh, no. And by the way, I have excellent car insurance. With a good driver discount.”

“That's…remarkable.” His eyebrows lifted. “Can you reverse a little? I'd like to see how my truck—“

“Oh, of course.” Paige hastily climbed back into Old Faithful and turned the motor back on. O.F. edged back with a jerk and a pop.

This was great, just great. The man was obviously a local. Lacking a wedding ring, he was a prime candidate for the position of fuckbuddy, an accessory she considered even more essential than mascara. But he seemed to have formed the opinion that she was a goof, and with good reason.

Still, the odds were in her favor. Twenty to one. At least that was what she’d heard from other women on the ferry: that the proportion of men to women in this part of Alaska was twenty to one, so maybe he'd want to hang out with her anyhow.

Paige brightened as she searched for her insurance information. After scribbling her name and that of her insurance company on an old gum wrapper, she peeked out the window again.

Hot Stuff was bending over, checking out the side of his truck, giving her a view of his nice, tight ass. Ooh, baby.

When he straightened, she got out of the car to hand him the paper. “By the way, I'm supposed to be meeting someone here. I think the name was…” She frowned in thought. “Fishman, or something. Do you know someone named Fish, uh, man?”

This time he gave her a real grin, one that gleamed against his dark golden skin. “Lots of fishermen around here. Maybe we can pin it down to a species. Sure it wasn't Shrimper, or even Halibut?”

Was he making fun of her again? “N-no. But it was a fishy name. Um, just for the halibut, can you stop teasing me?”

“But you're so entertaining,” he murmured. “I'm Fisher,” he said in a clearer tone. “Fisher Chugatt.”

Well, hell. Foot-in-mouth disease had struck. She wanted to sink into the pilings of the dock.

“Welcome to Takinsha Island, Ms. Percy.” He smirked at her, extending a hand.

His warm, strong grasp made her wonder if the rest of him would feel as fine. Losing her wits momentarily, she managed to say, “Oh, uh, you can call me, umm, Paige. Won't we be working together?”

“Yep. If you leave the radio station standing,” he muttered.

“What?” Had he insulted her again?

“Yes,” he said in a louder voice. “I keep the equipment in order. I understand that the new owners sent you. You’re the new station manager and will be handling part of the deejay work, right?”

“Right.”

“Follow me to the station. I think my truck's drivable. I guess I can get into it using the other door, since you stove in this one.” He nodded at the driver's side.

“Oh, God, I'm so sorry.” Could matters get worse?

“Don't worry. I can pop it out again.” His keen gaze again swept O.F. “Your car's probably okay. V.W.'s have the trunk in the front, don't they?”

“Uh-huh. The engine's in the back, so it'll be all right. I don't care about another ding in the bumper.”

“Yeah, I'm sure you don't.”

Paige winced. Had she turned off a total hottie who was also a co-worker? What if he told everyone on this little island she was a ditz? She’d have a dimwit reputation before even a single day had passed.

*

Fisher clambered across the bench seat of his truck to squirm behind the steering wheel. After starting the truck and pulling away, he peered through the rear view mirror to make sure that Miss Flamboyant—Paige Percy—followed.

Maybe he should rename her Miss Disaster. Or Miss Hap. Or, perhaps, Miss Adventure.

He chuckled to himself. She was as lightweight as they came, all sass and flash with no staying power. After the first snowfall, she'd probably flee Takinsha on the next ferry that docked, leaving behind a broken heart or two and the radio station in chaos.

Miss Fit. Though she looked pretty fit—she had a cute little body under all those clothes, he reckoned—she wouldn't fit in here at all. But that didn't bother him. He'd get a nice fat insurance payoff for what she'd done to the truck. Maybe he'd even be able to afford a new pick-up.

Whistling through his teeth, he headed at a decorous pace toward the station. He drove around the back of the building and parked in the rutted lot behind. She followed, pulling her bug into the parking space next to his, close to the back door of the station.

She hadn't taken Archie Miller's place, Fisher noted with relief. Archie, K-AKA's current, cranky owner, didn't scare Fisher. But life was sure better if staff humored the old boy's eccentricities.

He glanced at Paige as she exited the bug, slamming the door. Should he warn her about Archie's predilections?

She winked at him, then sauntered past to enter the station. Her sweetly rounded butt shimmied back and forth as she strutted. She'd already broken one fingernail.

He grinned and kept his mouth shut.

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