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      Dear Reader,

      There is nothing quite like the culture, colour and romance of south Florida. The sidewalks of South Beach sizzle with the beautiful people, the nightclubs rock with excitement and the sun soaks everything in a golden glow. I know because I’ve lived in Florida for almost fifteen years, and for much of that time, I worked in Miami and played on the narrow strip of land known simply as SoBe. Because of that, I am thrilled to launch a new dynasty series that is as hot as the tropics and as cool as the neon lights on Ocean Avenue.

      In many ways, the Garrison family is typical of the über-wealthy, ultrachic, super-hip residents of South Beach, but they are also men and women with dreams and disappointments, fears and frustrations. And because their stories were part of the Desire™ line, the characters are as rich with conflict as they are with cash. And, best of all, they have secrets that threaten to tumble their empire, or break their hearts.

      I fell in love with all the Garrisons, as I hope you will. In this series, you can root for the alpha men, like Parker Garrison, who sometimes lose the control they cherish, and cheer for the lucky ladies, like Anna Cross, who threaten to wreck the order of the men’s lives. So grab a pastel-coloured drink, dig your feet into some imaginary sand and discover the world of power, privilege and passion that is the Garrison family of Miami Beach!

       Roxanne St Claire

      About the Author

      ROXANNE ST CLAIRE is an award-winning, national bestselling author of more than a dozen romance and suspense novels. Her first book for Desire™ was nominated for a prestigious RITA^® Award from the Romance Writers of America, and she is also a recipient of the 2005 Maggie Award as well as multiple Awards of Excellence. In addition, her work has received numerous nominations for a variety of awards, including a SIBA Award for Best Fiction of 2005, a National Reader’s Choice Award and a Booksellers Best Award. Roxanne’s first book was published in 2003, after she spent nearly two decades as a public relations and marketing executive. Today she writes full-time, while raising two pre-teen children and enjoying life with a real-life alpha hero. She lives on the east coast of Florida and loves to hear from readers through e-mail at [email protected] and snail mail, c/o of the Space Coast Authors of Romance, PO Box 410787, Melbourne, Florida 32941, USA. Visit her website at www.roxannestclaire.com to read excerpts, win prizes and learn more!

      One

      When Parker Garrison strode into the conference room of Garrison, Inc., he noticed three things, despite the blinding sunshine that bounced off the water of Biscayne Bay and silhouetted the figures of his siblings, their mother and a few highly paid lawyers. One, there was no conversation. None. Not that he’d expected a party atmosphere at the reading of his father’s will, but it was unusual for a gathering of Garrisons to be quiet. They were, at the very least, an opinionated clan.

      Two, his mother appeared relatively sober. All right, it was eight-thirty in the morning and even Bonita Garrison rarely hit the juice before noon, unless he counted the Bloody Marys she consumed in preparation for the Sunday family dinners. But since his father’s death two weeks ago, she’d leaned on her liquid crutch early and often.

      Three—and most significant—John Garrison’s chair at the head of the mile-long cherrywood table remained empty. A situation Parker intended to rectify.

      His sister Brittany practically choked when he eased himself onto the buttery leather and set his BlackBerry on the table in front of him.

      “You’re sitting in Dad’s chair?” Brittany demanded, tapping the digital device that was never far from his right hand.

      “It’s empty.” Parker ignored the implication that he was muscling in on his father’s turf. Because he was. He was the oldest. He’d run the family’s umbrella corporation for the past five years, since his father had given him the CEO position as a thirty-first birthday present.

      The rest of them had their hands deep in the Garrison affairs—they each owned one of the properties, whether it was the Grand hotel, a club, restaurant or condo complex. But he’d earned this chair, and not just by birth order. With work, sweat, insight, guts and a few masterful decisions.

      “It’s disrespectful,” Brittany hissed, tapering her brown eyes in disgust and leaning her narrow shoulders closer to make her point. “To the dead.”

      Brooke reached over and touched her sister’s hand. “Relax, Britt. He has to sit somewhere.”

      Parker threw a grateful glance at his other sister, marveling at how the sisters were twins in appearance only. Brooke responded with a smile that softened her lovely features and accentuated the difference between the sweet sister and the scowling one even more.

      Across from Brooke and Brittany, Stephen locked his hands behind his head and rocked his chair easily with a long, muscular body that practically matched Parker’s gene for gene, right down to the signature cleft that every Garrison sported on their chin. Stephen’s dark eyes danced with wry amusement, his flawless smile white against a face tanned from a recent escape on his sixty-foot cabin cruiser.

      “Sit wherever you like, big brother,” Stephen drawled. “He may not be using the chair, but I think we’re about to feel the hand of our dearly departed father in every corner of this room.”

      Parker frowned at the comment, and followed his closest sibling’s meaningful gaze to the imposing figure cut by Brandon Washington, the young and brilliant attorney who handled the family affairs. Brandon’s strong jaw was set as he moved papers purposefully in front of him, his large hands steady and determined. At that moment, he met Parker’s gaze, and just beneath the burnish of his espresso-colored complexion, Parker could see… anger? Surprise? Dread?

      Whatever Brandon had read in John Garrison’s will, the warning look the lawyer gave Parker held a clear message: You’re not going to like this.

      Parker shifted in his seat, tamping down concern. What could the will say that Parker wouldn’t like? Nothing mattered to him except control of Garrison, Inc. The money, the properties, the estate—all were secondary to him, all one notch less important than the umbrella firm that invested the profits.

      Let the others have their slices of responsibility. He held the biggest piece of the pie dish in his hand. Surely Dad wouldn’t have changed his mind about a decision he’d made five years ago, long before he’d known he’d die at sixty-two from a heart attack.

      Still, he really didn’t like the vibe Brandon emitted. And neither, he could tell, did his mother.

      Evidently, Bonita Garrison had picked up the same message, her fragile features drawn from mourning and worry. She pushed at an imaginary strand of jet-black hair, a silver thread catching the light, the gesture one of pure nervousness as she studied Brandon for clues. Were there surprises in store for her today? Hadn’t she discussed every aspect of John’s last will and testament with the man she’d married more than thirty-seven years earlier?

      Maybe not, judging by the quiver of her delicate hands. Maybe she should have had a slug of Stoli before they’d gathered. Hell, maybe this event called for a round for the table. If only to numb the still-raw pain caused by