CHAPTER ONE | DOUBLE BOOKED
Copyright & Disclaimer
This story is inspired by true events. Certain names, characters, locations, details, and circumstances have been changed, fictionalized, or combined for creative purposes. Any resemblance to actual persons or events beyond those that inspired the story is coincidental.
© 2026 Shamar Phillips. All rights reserved.
Too Much Like Love
After a daunting ten-year hiatus, I packed up my feelings, my laptop, and a lot of expectations for my trip to Bruny Island. On top of finishing the comeback novel I had been putting off for the longest time, I planned to tour one of Australia's most beautiful places, find my way back to my writing, and check off a few things on my bucket list.
Learning that I had booked a vacation in the middle of Australia’s winter solstice, however, wasn’t one of them. Neither was running into a naked man living in the cottage I’d booked for the month. But it was the start of something I never expected.
I’m Genevieve Harper. New York Times Bestselling, award-winning author from Raleigh, North Carolina. Youngest daughter of deceased parents. Sister, friend, aunt. A black woman who had been blackballed and was too nice for her own good. And this is my love story.
***record scratch***
“Sweet baby Jesus!” I let go of my suitcase handle and quickly covered my eyes. “Who are you!? And what are you doing here?”
“Who are you!? And what you doing here? I rented this cottage for the month.”
I should have turned around and hightailed it out of there—tried to catch the cab driver before he left the driveway. But the sight of what was so inappropriately enticing had my feet planted to the floor like roots in the ground.
“Are you sure you have the right place?” I shrieked. “I rented this cottage for the month, too.”
“I’m pretty damn sure I have the right place. I been here since yesterday.”
“Well, can you cover up so I can open my eyes and make sure I’m at the right place? I’m pretty sure I am since I used a key to get in. Unless every cottage on this island uses the same key.”
“Yeah. Hold up.”
The man who stood in front of me, using two hands to cup his most private area, sounded unsure and completely taken by surprise.
I opened my eyes when I heard him creaking up the last of the stairs. It was too soon, though. I caught a glimpse of the package hanging low between his legs as he made the sharp left to enter the bedroom, and against my own will, my mouth watered.
Keep your tongue in your mouth and your eyes in your head, Evie. You didn’t come here for that.
The handsome stranger came back moments later. He was only wearing a pair of burgundy sweatpants and socks, but he was way more presentable than he was before. He handed me his phone, and sure enough, his reservation was real and booked way before I booked mine. I wasn’t sure what the mix-up was or how it happened, but I appeared to have a problem on my hands.
“Double booked.” I huffed and handed his phone back to retrieve my own. “I’ll call the host and let her know we have a big problem.”
“You might not get her,” he replied. “It’s after hours. The ferry already left for the night and probably won’t be back for a while since there’s a storm coming.”
“Are there any hotels around?” I asked, feeling nervous about the storm.
“Um, I think so. There’s a couple of brochures in the kitchen. I’ll get them.”
I eyed him as he walked away. Shoulders and back tight and toned. Legs shorter than a lot of men I knew, but he was still good-looking. And he smelled good—like expensive cologne, silk sheets, and champagne on a cold, sexy night.
“These are the ones close by. Nothing too fancy.”
He handed me the brochures and folded his arms across his chest. I took his body language as a sign that he was ready for me to leave, and even though I never intended to stay, his gesture bruised what little ego I had left.
“Thank you. Do you mind if I sit and make a few calls?” I asked.
“Yeah. No problem. You want anything to drink? Hot cocoa…tea? I know that ferry ride was cold as hell. You ain’t exactly dressed for winter in Australia.”
I had to laugh at myself for not thinking of the weather on the opposite side of the world. I was in such a rush to get out of the country that the differences in atmosphere completely slipped my mind. My thin jeans, crop top, and loose leather jacket were pretty warm in the States, but not nearly warm enough for the winter rain in Australia.
“I’ll take some cocoa, if you don’t mind,” I chuckled. “I didn’t think about what I should wear before I left North Carolina this morning. I’m freezing.”
He nodded and went back to the kitchen while I dialed the hotels on the brochures. The first two I called were completely booked. The third one was closed down for the storm that was on its way. And the last one also had no vacancy. According to the clerk, had I gotten there just a little bit sooner, I would’ve made the reservation list.
“Any luck?”
He came back with not only a cup of cocoa, but a thick blanket too.
“No,” I sighed. “Everything’s booked. One is closed for the storm. How bad is it supposed to get tonight? I can probably just stay on the beach until morning.”
He looked at me like I was crazy. It was 40 degrees and a light rain showered continuously, kicking up a thick fog that blanketed the night. Although we both had confirmation emails of booking the same cottage, I thought it was only fair to let him have it since he was there first.
“You’re gonna stay outside all night in 40-degree weather?” he laughed through his nose. “That sounds crazy. You can just stay here tonight. There’s probably people out there a lot crazier than you.”
His smart remark was funny, but I was too deep in a crisis to laugh. I needed a place to stay for the month, because my savings were running low and I needed to make a comeback. Fast.
“I mean, it doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, does it?” I sassed. “You might be crazy too.”
“I might be,” he replied smugly. “But you paid for the cottage just like I did, so you’re gonna stay here. At least until you can get a room or get in contact with the host. I don’t wanna end up a suspect for being the last person to see you alive tonight. I got shit to live for.”
That time, it was I who looked at him like he was the crazy one. We didn’t know each other from two holes in the wall. For all I knew, his confirmation was fake, and he was the real Wolf Creek killer. But something about his command rubbed me the right way.
“Thanks. But I don’t wanna impose on some strange man I don’t know. Too many women end up dead or worse because they trusted a man.”
“What’s your name?” he cut through my sarcasm like a blade.
“Genevieve. But everyone calls me Evie.”
“Ok, Genevieve. I’m Shamar. Nice to meet you.”
He held out his hand and waited for me to shake it. I stared at it for a brief moment before I finally stood and accepted it into my own. His skin was as soft as cotton, but his grip was firm in the gentlest way. His nails were neatly trimmed and healthy. Everything about him screamed safe, but I still wanted him to convince me to stay.
“Hold up.” He tilted his head and studied my face like he’d found something hidden in a secret compartment. “I think I know you. Genevieve? As in Genevieve Harper?”
I was immediately embarrassed. I quickly turned away and sat back down on the couch, silently praying he didn’t try to rob me for the money that was long gone. When I took too long to answer, he pulled out his phone and pulled up my audiobook. I was surprised he knew it. But then I realized I recognized him too.
“Wait a minute,” I squinted. “Shamar? Shamar Phillips, the author?”
“Mhm,” he replied, unenthused. “This is crazy. I just started listening to A Quiet Kind of Leaving for the second time. That’s a good book. You did your big one.”
“And I just finished your latest last week! Are you kidding me?” I laughed. “This has to be a joke. Am I really double-booked with one of my favorite authors?”
We were both star-struck and in disbelief. And our meet-up was still awkward, but it felt like magic at the same time. I had come across him at book tours and different signing events over the years, but we never got the chance to get past hello. We were both too busy with our own careers to notice each other.
“You gotta stay now,” he said. “Come on, look at this place. There’s enough room for both of us. I can’t just let you take your chances outside all night. We probably the only black people on this island, and I don’t want the world looking at me crazy if something happens to you.”
I took a good look around the cottage. It was beautiful. Large, spacious, and warm. It was clean, too. A lot of times, men had a bad habit of being messy—leaving their things lying all over the place, living like college kids. But the home was spotless. If Shamar wasn’t standing right in front of me, I would have never known he was there.
“You sure you’re not some crazy killer hiding behind being a dope author?” I cut my eyes at him playfully. “I watch a lot of scary movies. It is kind of weird that I run into you here, of all places. How do I know you didn’t set this whole thing up?”
“You’ve seen me before,” he said coolly. “I’m always chilling, minding my business. If you decide you wanna leave, the door’s right there. I’m not stopping you.”
His expression was cool and halfway sassy, if I'm being honest; like a playboy who knew he had his way with the ladies.
I can admit, I was still cautious about sharing the same space with a man I didn’t know personally, but he made me feel comfortable enough. I had traveled over 9,000 miles; I was tired, hungry, cold, and wanted to relax without having to travel another great distance to do it.
So… I decided to stay.
“Fine. I’ll stay the night,” I said. “If I can find a vacant room or another cottage tomorrow, I’ll be out of your way.”
“You paid for the month. I don’t mind you getting your money’s worth. As long as you stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours.”
I felt like I sensed some flirtation in his tone, but I couldn’t be sure. I thought it might’ve just sounded that way because he was attractive. Or because I was used to good-looking men feeling like they could have whoever they wanted.
Shamar gave me a different vibe, though. He was subtle and helpful—carried my suitcase upstairs to the second bedroom and made sure I had blankets, towels, and whatever else I needed. Not once did he try to come on to me or even give me a funny look like he wanted to. He was a total gentleman who treated me like I was his company.
“Alright. Deal," I said, admiring the king-sized bed in the XL bedroom. "Thank you for being so cool about this. I’m definitely gonna let the host know about the mix-up, though. She should give us both a discount.”
“I’ll email her now and let her know what’s going on,” he assured. “Other than that, you good? You need anything else from me tonight? There’s food, drinks, liquor in the kitchen. Help yourself to whatever you want. I’m a stoner, so I got munchies too. If you smoke, I got some of that too,” he chuckled.
“I’m good for now. Thanks,” I smiled softly. “I’m gonna shower and get settled in; put some warm clothes on and try to relax. I have a long month ahead of me—trying to make a comeback in this game.”
“Alright, cool. I’ll be on the deck for a while. Holla if you need me.”
The slight bow in his legs as he walked away made me weak in the knees. His swag and demeanor were unlike any man I'd ever come across. I watched through my cracked door as he slipped on a robe, house slippers, and a wool cap, then went out to the deck through the sliding glass doors at the top of the stairs.
He sat there on his phone, sipping from a mug of steaming hot cocoa, soaking in the night’s coolness and stars. I wanted to join him, but I was nervous. I didn’t want to be the one seemingly coming onto him the way I thought he would come onto me. But I wanted to… And that was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
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