Title: For Vacation Only
Author: Mila Nicks
Genre: Contemporary Romantic Comedy
Release Date: June 11, 2021
When blue-blooded Blake Mulligan gets jilted at the altar, he breaks free of his ‘predictable’ reputation by going on the honeymoon cruise anyway—without his snobby, socialite fiancée. For the next fourteen days he hopes to escape reality and pretend he hasn’t suffered the humiliation of a lifetime. The last thing he expects is to meet beautiful songstress Jubilee Collazo with her honey-sweet voice.Jubilee is talented and passionate and doesn’t just march to the beat of her own drum—she dances to it. While she longs to do more than croon cover songs from a cruise ship stage, she enjoys seeing the world. Her love of travel makes her the perfect person to show Blake around each exotic stop of the Mediterranean cruise.
What starts out as a simple tour guide arrangement, quickly grows into something more. Despite their different backgrounds, Blake and Jubilee discover an incredible connection they never imagined possible. But as their final destination approaches, so does reality. Like points on a compass, their lives seem to be charted in opposite directions—his to the Hamptons and high-society, and hers back out across the rolling seas. Can anything short of a perfect storm keep these two lovebirds together?
When the last fan wandered off, Jubilee turned back to her Greek Mati. The bar had cleared out some, but those remaining were engrossed in conversation over their drinks. Maybe once she polished off her Greek Mati, it was time to call it a night.
The doors at the front opened and in walked Clark Kent, disrupting her train of thought. Jubilee’s initial glance was fleeting, but then she did a double take. Was the Greek Mati stronger than she realized or was this really Clark Kent in the flesh? She squinted.
The man was brawny and strapping enough to look out of place on a cruise ship. His perfectly coifed dark hair shone in the starlight and his expression was vague, though the masculine features on his face were undeniably handsome, cleft chin and all. The navy-blue slacks and white dress shirt he wore were fitted well to his muscular physique, the top button undone to reveal a speckle of chest hair. He should’ve been off to save a kitten from a tree or a screaming woman from a burning building. Instead he was walking up to the bar counter for a drink.
And then she noticed it—attached to the bottom of his suede boat shoes was a square of toilet paper, trailing along wherever he went.
Just like that the perfect aura surrounding Mr. Kent poofed into thin air.
Jubilee burst into an involuntary laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Unfortunately, it was too late to stifle her laugh. Both Holt and Mr. Kent looked over at her. She cleared her throat and pretended to sip from her cocktail. The man had stopped two seats away from her, close enough she could sense his vibe; while he’d come across as some ultra-confident, ridiculously handsome dreamboat from afar, up close he gave off a sense of uncertainty, like he was playing pretend.
Kinda sorta like her?
She stamped down on that thought. She wasn’t pretending to be new Jubilee. She was new Jubilee.
The new Jubilee thing to do would be play it cool. Act like she hadn’t noticed him. Jubilee stared straight ahead at the wall of gleaming liquor bottles, studying them as though out of sudden interest. In her periphery, the Clark Kent lookalike threw her another glance. He was staring.
The polite thing to do was probably to tell him he had toilet paper stuck to his shoe.
The funnier thing was to let him suffer just a little bit more. Maybe the toilet paper stuck to his shoe was the universe’s way of balancing him out. No one could be that perfect, could they?
She hadn’t made up her mind yet when the man made it up for her. Glass of whiskey in hand, Mr. Kent sidled over.
“Hello, sorry to intrude, but . . . you’re from the Frankie Bravo show, right?”
Jubilee turned slightly in her chair, letting her gaze meet his. He really was a little too handsome. He made a pretty boy like Zayne look like scraps.
“Erm, yeah . . . I am,” she answered after a brief pause. “I sang “Best Kinda Lovin’”.”
“I recognize the purple hair.”
“Most people do.”
“You were great,” he said with the same enthusiasm Frankie’s fans used. “Amazing actually. I couldn’t look away.”
She raised both brows. “Because of the sight or sound?”
“Oh. Sound! But . . . but the sight was obviously great too—not to say that in a pervy, trying-to-hit-on-you way, but just as a, you know, compliment,” he rambled.
She smiled as it dawned on her. For as handsome and perfect as he seemed, he was awkward. He was fumbling over his words. He was walking around with toilet paper on his shoe. He was alone, not with a date or a group of friends.
Something about this unexpected, imperfect side of him endeared him to her.
Her gaze dropped to his shoe, where the patch of toilet paper clung for dear life. She bit down on her bottom lip and said, “Listen, you have toilet paper on your shoe.”
His face lit up red when he saw it. “That explains why those women outside were giggling when I walked by.”
The doors at the front opened and in walked Clark Kent, disrupting her train of thought. Jubilee’s initial glance was fleeting, but then she did a double take. Was the Greek Mati stronger than she realized or was this really Clark Kent in the flesh? She squinted.
The man was brawny and strapping enough to look out of place on a cruise ship. His perfectly coifed dark hair shone in the starlight and his expression was vague, though the masculine features on his face were undeniably handsome, cleft chin and all. The navy-blue slacks and white dress shirt he wore were fitted well to his muscular physique, the top button undone to reveal a speckle of chest hair. He should’ve been off to save a kitten from a tree or a screaming woman from a burning building. Instead he was walking up to the bar counter for a drink.
And then she noticed it—attached to the bottom of his suede boat shoes was a square of toilet paper, trailing along wherever he went.
Just like that the perfect aura surrounding Mr. Kent poofed into thin air.
Jubilee burst into an involuntary laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Unfortunately, it was too late to stifle her laugh. Both Holt and Mr. Kent looked over at her. She cleared her throat and pretended to sip from her cocktail. The man had stopped two seats away from her, close enough she could sense his vibe; while he’d come across as some ultra-confident, ridiculously handsome dreamboat from afar, up close he gave off a sense of uncertainty, like he was playing pretend.
Kinda sorta like her?
She stamped down on that thought. She wasn’t pretending to be new Jubilee. She was new Jubilee.
The new Jubilee thing to do would be play it cool. Act like she hadn’t noticed him. Jubilee stared straight ahead at the wall of gleaming liquor bottles, studying them as though out of sudden interest. In her periphery, the Clark Kent lookalike threw her another glance. He was staring.
The polite thing to do was probably to tell him he had toilet paper stuck to his shoe.
The funnier thing was to let him suffer just a little bit more. Maybe the toilet paper stuck to his shoe was the universe’s way of balancing him out. No one could be that perfect, could they?
She hadn’t made up her mind yet when the man made it up for her. Glass of whiskey in hand, Mr. Kent sidled over.
“Hello, sorry to intrude, but . . . you’re from the Frankie Bravo show, right?”
Jubilee turned slightly in her chair, letting her gaze meet his. He really was a little too handsome. He made a pretty boy like Zayne look like scraps.
“Erm, yeah . . . I am,” she answered after a brief pause. “I sang “Best Kinda Lovin’”.”
“I recognize the purple hair.”
“Most people do.”
“You were great,” he said with the same enthusiasm Frankie’s fans used. “Amazing actually. I couldn’t look away.”
She raised both brows. “Because of the sight or sound?”
“Oh. Sound! But . . . but the sight was obviously great too—not to say that in a pervy, trying-to-hit-on-you way, but just as a, you know, compliment,” he rambled.
She smiled as it dawned on her. For as handsome and perfect as he seemed, he was awkward. He was fumbling over his words. He was walking around with toilet paper on his shoe. He was alone, not with a date or a group of friends.
Something about this unexpected, imperfect side of him endeared him to her.
Her gaze dropped to his shoe, where the patch of toilet paper clung for dear life. She bit down on her bottom lip and said, “Listen, you have toilet paper on your shoe.”
His face lit up red when he saw it. “That explains why those women outside were giggling when I walked by.”
Mila Nicks is an emerging romance author on a mission to pen entertaining love stories featuring women of color.
From the time she was a small girl with crayons and an overactive imagination, she’s had a passion for storytelling. In addition to serving ten years in the United States Air Force, she has received her Bachelor’s degree in Journalism and an MFA in Creative Writing.
When she isn’t busy tapping away at her keyboard, you can find her binge-watching her favorite TV shows, daydreaming about her next vacation across the globe, or spending quality time with her spunky pet Chihuahua, Zayden.
From the time she was a small girl with crayons and an overactive imagination, she’s had a passion for storytelling. In addition to serving ten years in the United States Air Force, she has received her Bachelor’s degree in Journalism and an MFA in Creative Writing.
When she isn’t busy tapping away at her keyboard, you can find her binge-watching her favorite TV shows, daydreaming about her next vacation across the globe, or spending quality time with her spunky pet Chihuahua, Zayden.
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