Our Secret Summer (PAPERBACK)

Raffo Shah & Dylan French

➝ As a teenager, Raffo lived at the Rainbow Shelter founded by Justine (Nothing Heals Me Like You Do)

➝ Raffo paints a family portrait commissioned by Ida & Faye (About That Kiss)

➝ Sienna (Nothing Heals Me Like You Do) has a couple of Raffo's paintings

They promised themselves it was only for the summer…

Raffo retreats to a lake house in Big Bear, desperate to heal her broken heart. But peace and quiet prove impossible when she discovers Dylan—her best friend’s mother—already staying at the house, hiding from her own mistakes.

Dylan is everything Raffo doesn’t need: older, off-limits, and utterly captivating.

What starts as a shared summer sanctuary quickly turns into something far more dangerous when their undeniable chemistry ignites. As their bond deepens, passion blossoms into a love neither woman saw coming.

But summer can’t last forever. With Dylan’s son waiting in Los Angeles, their growing love risks destroying the very relationships they cherish most.

Our Secret Summer is a steamy sapphic age-gap romance about forbidden desire, irresistible connections, and the risk of following your heart when the stakes couldn’t be higher.

• Age gap
• Forced proximity
• Forbidden Romance
• BlissVerse

Chapter 1

Raffo parked the car in front of the garage and cut the engine, silencing the music she’d been belting along to. She inhaled deeply and examined the house in front of her. Connor wasn’t the kind of person who understated things—quite the opposite—but that’s exactly what her best friend had done with this property. It looked vast and luxurious from the outside, more like a year-round home than a weekend getaway place.

She got out of the car and stretched her limbs. Raffo hadn’t stopped on the road from Los Angeles to Big Bear Lake. It was only a two-hour drive and she just wanted to go-go-go. Away from LA and Mia and their open relationship that had failed so spectacularly, it might be funny if it didn’t hurt so damn much. The temperature dropped several degrees at this elevation, a welcome relief from LA’s smoggy summer heat.

Raffo grabbed her backpack from the car. She’d fetch her suitcases and painting materials after she’d explored the inside of this swanky house she’d be occupying for a while. It was up in the air exactly how long—as long as it took, she guessed—but Connor had told her she could stay as long as she wanted. The property belonged to his mother who was on a spiritual ‘Eat-Pray-Love journey’—Connor’s words—through Europe and she wouldn’t be using it this summer.

Raffo walked to the front door and put the key in the lock. As soon as she opened the door, her gaze was drawn to the massive windows overlooking the lake. Oh yes, this would do nicely. Raffo might have to go on her very own spiritual journey to get her groove back, but she didn’t have to travel all the way to Europe for it. A two-hour drive might be all it took.

When she was able to look away from the magnificent view, she scanned the living area. There was a half-full glass of water on the coffee table and the couch cushions were propped together at one side, as though someone had recently rested their head on them. And was that a used coffee cup on the kitchen counter?

“Hello?” Raffo shouted. Was Connor playing a prank on her? He was supposed to be on the way to New York to visit his long-distance boyfriend, but maybe it had just been a ruse. But why would Connor want to stay here with her when Raffo had been sleeping in his spare room for the past month?

No answer came. Still, it was becoming glaringly obvious that someone was staying here. Maybe there had been a mix-up. Maybe Connor’s mother had rented the place out for the summer while she was in Europe. Surely Connor had checked with her whether Raffo could stay here?

Raffo advanced farther into the house.

“Anyone here?” she yelled, a little louder this time.

She headed toward the stairs and listened carefully for any noise coming from the second floor. She thought she heard something, but couldn’t quite make out what. Or maybe she was just imagining sounds now. She ascended the stairs, trying to make as much noise as possible, continuing to announce herself until her repeated hellos felt too silly and awkward.

She cast her gaze around the landing. The door to the bathroom was open. So was the door to the master bedroom. Raffo’s eyes were drawn to a shape on the bed. She froze. Her heart hammered in her chest. She definitely wasn’t alone. She felt like an intruder—she was an intruder. What should she do? Call Connor or approach the stranger? Raffo wasn’t someone who scared easily and her curiosity quickly got the better of her. She peered into the bedroom. Oh, damn. Raffo withdrew. Not only was that person a naked woman with the sheets thrown off her chest, but that was also Connor’s mother. What the hell was going on? Raffo did panic now. Because why wasn’t Connor’s mother responding to her calls?

Raffo tried to remember her name, but it escaped her. She’d only met Connor’s mother a few times at the gallery. Was she really sleeping so soundly that she hadn’t heard Raffo’s many hellos?

Raffo didn’t want to, but she looked a little closer. She did her utmost to ignore her best friend’s mother’s bare breasts and focus on her ears to check for ear plugs, but they were covered with her tousled, honey-blond hair.

Raffo stopped thinking and shot into action mode. She knocked on the half-open door while trying to remember if, perhaps, Connor’s mother was hearing-impaired.

All of a sudden, two bright blue eyes stared right back at her. Connor’s mother inhaled sharply as she sat up, covering herself. Then she removed a pair of stark-white AirPods from her ears.

“Raffo?” she said, her face a mask of confusion. “Is that you?”

“Mrs., um, Hart.” Raffo still didn’t know where to look, even though Connor’s mom had wrapped as much of the sheet around her chest as possible.

She shook her head. “Hart is Connor’s father’s last name. I’m Dylan French.” Somehow, she managed to send Raffo a zestful smile. Maybe she’d just had an ultra-rejuvenating nap. Or what she’d been listening to through those AirPods was something extra special.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. French,” Raffo mumbled. “Did you not know I was coming here? Did Connor not tell you?”

Connor’s mom expelled a deep sigh. “It’s complicated,” she said. “And please call me Dylan.”

“Why don’t I wait for you downstairs?” Raffo needed to get her bearings as well, and she was sure Dylan could do with some time to regroup—and put some clothes on.

Dylan nodded. “Pour us a glass of that chablis in the fridge, will you?”