Julia Dailey has a secret. She’s an imposter planted on Pleasure Island, an undercover agent who’s investigating visitors to the exotic, exclusive getaway. Until now, she’s been able to pretend at face value that she is part of the lifestyle. But that all changes when she receives a new set of instructions from headquarters. She’s to get close enough to their latest suspect that she will be forced to do something she’s never considered herself capable of doing – submit.

Collum Robinson is an Australian guitarist with the band The Harbingers, with a dark and lonely past he’s never fully escaped. At clubs around the world, he has women fighting over the chance to end up in his bed for the night. Never one to turn down a willing, soft body, he enjoys the fairer sex, frequently. But he’s never met a woman who wanted more than a night with the fabled rock star – or one he wanted to keep. Until he meets Julia.

As they become intricately intertwined, Collum wants to make Julia his, but when her identity is revealed, can he forgive her betrayal? And will Julia be able to convince him where her loyalties lie and that he is the only man for her?

Publisher’s Note: Book five in Anya Summers’ bestselling Pleasure Island series contains explicit scenes and adult language.





Julia would examine the video feed. Perhaps he had found another submissive for the night and was already engaged. Not that she wanted to watch him bang another chick, but perhaps if she studied him in his bungalow, she could discern his pattern. Then she’d be better prepared to go after her mark in the morning.

Cruz wouldn’t be happy. Tonight’s dismal failure had shrunk her window of opportunity before he pulled her from the case. If she reviewed the footage when she arrived home, she should be able to salvage what was left of her mission.

Without a second thought, she stripped out of her barely there clothing, tossed it on a nearby lounge chair, and dove in. The water was warm from the heat of the sun. She surfaced, her body lengthening as she swam the length of the pool. Swimming was a catharsis. It calmed her, always had. She wasn’t certain why. Perhaps it was because it was the one time she was alone. She enjoyed the way the water sluiced over her skin. The way it seemed to seep into the core of her being and bring her peace.

She surfaced, and ran smack dab into a solid wall of distinctly male muscle.

“Gah!” She swam backwards, her heart pounding, nearly sinking back below the surface.

“Steady there. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the voice flowed, sounding like a fifty-year-old single malt scotch. Strong hands gripped her biceps, hoisting her up. An unexpected heat flared in her, her skin singed where he touched her, her nipples hardened into taut peaks, and the resonance of his voice curled within her chest.

“Like hell. Give a girl a heart attack, why don’t you? Are you insane?” she snarled, and glared up at the sinfully handsome visage of Collum Robinson. Her mission to investigate him, get close and uncover his secrets, was tossed out the window. In the darkness, shadows played with her vision, hiding what she knew were his dark chocolate eyes amidst his rugged appearance. Even though he was her intended target, she didn’t want to feel anything for him, not even desire. And it bothered her that a simple touch ignited her blood: it hummed deliciously through her veins, and need for him pulsated in her body.

His angular jaw was clenched with a muscle ticking in his cheek as she struggled to free herself from his hold. He murmured, “Careful how you speak to me, beauty.”