A Secret, a Safari, a Second Chance

By: Liz Fielding

A luxury escape...

A chance to reveal her baby bombshell!

In this Destination Brides story, a bid at a charity auction wins Eve Bliss a dream holiday on safari! As a penniless single mom, she’d be foolish not to go, but she’s not expecting Kit Merchant to be there on business. She and Kit once shared a passionate moment. Now, together in beautiful Africa, how long can she keep her four-year-old secret? Kit has a daughter!

Destination Brides

Will the trip of a lifetime lead to the altar?

When Molly, Maya, Jenna and Eve bid on bucket-list worthy vacations at a charity auction, they each embark on the adventure of a lifetime at glamorous destinations around the world—but will they find love that lasts forever along the way?

Travel with them from the comfort of your armchair in

Summer Escape with the Tycoon by Donna Alward

Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire by Nina Singh

One Night in Provence by Barbara Wallace

A Secret, a Safari, a Second Chance by Liz Fielding

All available now!

Dear Reader,

When three of my favorite fellow authors (and dear friends) asked me to join their Destination Brides quartet, I was absolutely thrilled.

It has been a joy and privilege to work alongside them to create this miniseries that begins at a charity auction event at the Merchant Resort in Nantucket. In one of those life-changing moments, Eve Bliss bids on a safari adventure that will take her back to a precious time in her life, to reconnect with old friends and, shockingly, come face-to-face with Kit Merchant, the father of her little girl...and the last person on earth she expects to see.

Join them in the thrilling setting of a luxury safari lodge in Kabila. As they take a balloon ride over the savanna, sit under the stars, come face-to-face with a giraffe and a future that neither of them could ever have imagined.

With love,




Eve was shivering, but the Nantucket evening was balmy; the cold was coming from inside.

She’d been cajoled into joining this beach party by the older women in her family, who were worried about her and thought she needed to get out, assuring her kindly that some young company would ‘cheer her up’.

Her cousins, given no choice in the matter, had done their best to include her, but these teenagers had known one another all their lives. She was twenty-one, in her last year at university; they all seemed so young, and her novelty value as ‘the English cousin’ was outweighed by the awkwardness of the fact that her mother had just died.

Bit of a downer, that.

She’d taken pity on them, pleading a headache to move away from the music and the bonfire to sit in the quiet shadow of the dunes, welcoming the chance to be on her own for a while, without having family fussing around her. Counting down the time until her grandmother would be in bed and she could slip back into the house, so that she wouldn’t have to pretend to have had a good time.

So that her grandmother wouldn’t have to pretend to care.

The last thing she needed was for someone to hit on her.

‘If I lend you my sweater can I join your escape party?’ She managed to stuff the little soft elephant she’d been cradling for comfort out of sight in her bag but, before she could tell the guy to get lost, he had draped a soft cashmere sweater across her shoulders and flopped down beside her on the sand. The sweater smelled not of woodsmoke but of the sea and, as her body relaxed into its soft warmth, she didn’t shake it off but pulled it around her.

‘Hi,’ he said, offering a large, square hand. ‘I’m Kit.’ Years at an English boarding school had drummed in the automatic ‘politeness’ response but as she reached up to take it, her own name died in her throat.

She might only be an occasional summer visitor to her mother’s birthplace, but everyone knew Kit Merchant. An island legend, he’d been a teenager when he’d brought home sailing gold from London and had been collecting trophies ever since.

Now in his mid-twenties, he was too old, and a lot too glamorous, to be hanging out at a teenage beach party.

‘This isn’t a party,’ she said, but curiosity beat her irritation that he’d called her Red. Her hair, a gift from her mother’s Scottish ancestors, had been an unending source of nicknames ever since she’d gone to school and it had got old. ‘What are you escaping from?’

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