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Deep in the humid, vine-choked jungles of a remote island, the air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and ancient secrets. For Loretta Sage, a reclusive romance-adventure novelist, this was supposed to be a nightmare of her own making—except she wasn't writing it. She was living it.

"I'm here to save you!" Alan shouted, though his heroic pose was immediately ruined when he tripped over a stray root. Deep in the humid, vine-choked jungles of a

Back on the mainland, Loretta didn't just have a new bestseller. She had a new protagonist. Because sometimes, the best adventures aren't the ones you write—they're the ones you barely survive with a cover model by your side. "I'm here to save you

"You wrote the location into Chapter Twelve, Loretta," Fairfax whispered, his eyes gleaming with madness. "Now, you’re going to show me the way." Because sometimes, the best adventures aren't the ones

As the volcano at the heart of the island began to rumble—a literal ticking clock—Loretta and Alan discovered that the real legend wasn't about gold, but about a love story from a forgotten age. In a final, desperate escape involving a dramatic cliff jump and a very lucky boat, they left the greedy billionaire behind to be swallowed by the shifting sands of the city he tried to conquer.

Clad in a shimmering, sequins-covered jumpsuit that was spectacularly impractical for trekking through mud, Loretta found herself tied to a chair in the middle of a clearing. Facing her was Abigail Fairfax, an eccentric billionaire with a messiah complex and a singular obsession: the "Crown of Fire." He believed Loretta’s latest book wasn't just fiction, but a map to a real, lost city hidden for millennia.

Just as Fairfax’s mercenaries prepared to move out, a crash echoed through the canopy. Bursting through the ferns—and looking like he had just stepped off a shampoo commercial—was Alan. To the world, he was 'Dash McMahon,' the dim-witted but beautiful cover model for Loretta’s books. To Loretta, he was just a guy who used too much bronzer.