The Scavenger Hunt Game Rules: Draw a card. Seduce the man. End of game.
Consequences for failure: Two weeks on a remote island with no internet—a career killer.
The Player: Samantha
Samantha has kept her deepest, darkest secrets hidden but they’ll soon become exposed when she plays the scavenger hunt game.
Derek already knows all about Samantha when she enters his private club--daughter of a preacher and working for the man who wants to shut Derek’s club down. He’ll show her just how much fun walking on the wild side can be.
The Scavenger Hunt series is intended for an 18+ audience and contains lots of raunchy love scenes. If you’re a family member and want to keep the image in your head that I’m sweet and would never have naughty thoughts, then I’d advise you not to read these books. I’m an introvert—big difference.
Samantha Tarlton looked at her friends. “Y’all can’t be serious. This card is a joke, right?” Her soft Southern drawl became more pronounced when she was nervous. Right now, it was thicker than sorghum molasses on a cold day. She cleared her throat and stared down at the card she was holding. This was unacceptable.
“You know the rules,” Josie told her. “Either you accept the dare or pay the consequences. Your choice.”
"Easy for you to say." Samantha knew she should've bowed out of the scavenger hunt initially, but she hadn't thought it would go this far. She'd thought the stupid game was a joke.
She eyed Josephine with just a tad of resentment. Her friend was the first one to go, so she was finished. Sure, everything worked out great for her. She'd even shortened her name to Josie, which suited her so much better than Josephine.
Who came up with this silly game anyway? Oh, right, Dakota. What had she called it? A scavenger hunt—for a man.
Bless Dakota’s heart, the poor girl was horny and thought this was a good way for everyone to step out of their comfort zones. Had the girl never heard of vibrators? Samantha was from one of the oldest families in Atlanta, a so-called Southern belle, and even she knew about sex toys.
They were her guilty secret.
Heat crawled up her face.
No one ever spoke about sex. It just wasn't done, even in this day and time. Not in her family, especially when her daddy was a preacher and his daddy before him. She shouldn't even be thinking about it now.
Except she was being forced to do more than think about sex.
What was she going to do?
Samantha's gaze swept around her tastefully decorated living room with its soft green chintz sofa with pink roses climbing across the back and pink cushioned side chairs, and then back at the five women staring her down while they waited for her answer. She'd known them far too long, and, from their unwavering expressions, there was no way they would let her off the hook.
They’d met in college, graduated, and then found jobs in their respective fields in Dallas. Rather than going their separate ways, they met each month, rain or shine. Their standing date summed up their social lives since they were all too busy focusing on their careers. Now they were nearing their thirties with nothing much to write home about other than their jobs.
Beyond frustrated by her lack of sexual encounters, Dakota came up with the ridiculous idea they should each draw a scrabble tile, and whoever came closest to A would choose a card from a very special deck. Each card had a picture of a man wearing the uniform of his profession. You had to find someone from that profession, seduce him before the next meeting, or take a two-week vacation to a remote island with no internet or, even worse, phone service.
With her, it was different. Reverend Reed was about to start his book tour, and she was one of a team of six who would be working on his promotion. Her career would go down the toilet if word got out about the game they were playing.
But then, the others were in the same boat, yet they were still willing to take a chance.
"Okay, I'll do it," she finally capitulated. She glanced at the card she'd drawn, and her stomach began to churn again. How was she going to seduce a plumber? Better yet, why would she want to? Her sainted grandmother was probably turning over in her grave.