Fight…Flight attendant Preeya Patel wears her mother’s wanderlust-genes like a catwalk model. After quitting med school, she flies fast-and-free through her twenties—a staunch middle finger to her Dr. Dad. She wants the life of her dreams—a wild ride with a savage partner in crime to go with it. But dreams don’t often match what fate delivers…Flight…Young widower, Dr. Ben Trainer, is flying to Mexico, joining yet another vaccine mission, alleviating his grief and guilt one needy soul at a time. And…risking his life might just set him free.Or Fall…When an in-flight emergency throws Ben and Preeya together to save a child, logic and whimsy collide. Both lost souls’ find something hot and deep and true—an unforeseen connection. But dreams morph, old nightmares haunt, secrets surface. In order to navigate their futures, they must face their pasts.Hard.Will Preeya recognize the man of her wildest dreams? Or will Ben fly from this second-chance love before her eyes open? A fight—or flight—to the finish…for love.
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He looked up from signing the last form, and there she was.
“Ready? Shots are waiting,” she said anxiously.
He smiled. “Yeah, almost.” He scratched out his signature at the bottom of the current page and flipped to the next. “Hey, so, out of curiosity, how extensive is a flight attendant’s medical training, really?” Leena, the head flight attendant, had been so flustered it just made him wonder. While on the other hand, Preeya had been so grounded, focused, capable, “on it.”
“The basics, of course. And annual re-certs. But, you know, we don’t have medical incidents too often.” She knocked on the wooden bar counter. “Take Leena. She’s been an FA for some twenty years, and this was her first major incident.” She paused in thought. “And here I thought I was getting into the most chill and fun job ever.” She snorted. “After pre-med undergrad and then a year in the MD Program at Stanford, I dropped out. Just too much serious for me.”
“Wow.” He nodded slowly while processing this new information. A new side to this intriguing woman. “Huh.” He collected the forms from the table. “And now…a flight attendant?”
No answer. Just a quick glance before she turned to the bar for her next shot, which had actually been his next shot, and without waiting for him to join her, she shrugged and slammed the liquid back.
The sudden shift in her mood, undeniable.
Maybe from his question?
“It’s four thirty and the Jetta Air rep will be back at five. Let me go bring these docs to the front desk, then I’ll resume the shot-a-thon.” He pushed his chair back and stood, holding the pile of papers to his chest. Keeping the clear separation between the docs and the liquor—while giving Preeya some space and time to unwind again—were both good ideas.
He glanced at her and smirked as she brought yet another shot to her lips.
She jutted out her chin. “Hey, I’m not on the clock,” she blurted defensively.
“I’m not…saying anything. I’ll, uh, be back to join you…if there’s any left.”
Through his teasing laughter she glared at him for a beat, then pursed her lips. He’d surprised her with his flippant comment. She clearly didn’t know how to take him. “You know flight attendants only get paid when the doors are closed and the plane engines are on?”
“I did not know that.” She was getting sloshed.
And he was getting anxious and hot and excited and short of breath. “Be back.”
Contemporary romance writer Rissa Brahm grew up in New York and has since lived in all four corners of the United States, and beyond. e beautiful paradise of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico—the core setting of her hot & heartfelt debut series, Paradise South—is Rissa’s most recent and beloved home.
When not chained-by-choice to her MacBook, she is embarking on out- door adventures with her husband and little girl, laughing to tears with a good rom com, eating amazing Indian food with something chocolate for dessert; reading good, hot scorchers in bed; biking, long walks, and yoga; zoning out to killer music from across the decades and the globe; and getting lost only to discover a new exciting route home again.
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