HELLO FRIENDS! I ALWAYS LOVE TO DO COVER REVEALS, SO I AM SUPER EXCITED TO DO ONE FOR MEG AMOR TODAY FOR HER UPCOMING BOOK: HAWAIIAN LEI! HOT COVER IS THE WORD OF THE DAY! LET'S TAKE A LOOK ALONG WITH THE BLURB AND AN EXCERPT!
Hawaiian Lei ~ Sensual m/m gay romance ~ The Hawaiians Series ~ Loose Id Publishing
~ 17 Mar 2015 Release
MESSAGE FROM MEG:
| All my stories are ultimately about soul deep relationships, the intense love and connection we all crave with another human being. The core need to be accepted just as we are. |
HERE IS THE COVER! WHEW IS IT HOT!
TOLD YOU!! HERE IS THE BLURB!
I wake up to the gorgeous smell of
freshly brewed, pure Kona. Thank you, there is a God. I wrap a sarong
around my waist and join Rach on the lanai. My time clock is still on
LA time; otherwise I’d never make it up this early. I’m a night
owl and usually paint all night, sleeping in the day. But being here
on the island means beach and water days. The best action is in the
morning, before the off-shore breeze comes up in the afternoon.
“You ready to go in half an hour?”
she asks.
I nod. Speech isn’t one of my
just-waking-up skills.
*
* * *
We’re paddling back from the
Kealakekua and have had a fantastic morning out there. The snorkeling
is some of the best in the Hawaiian Islands. Twenty-five odd feet of
clear aqua-blue water, teeming with multicolored tropical fish and
the odd honu, or turtle. We pay our respects to Captain James
Cook. His white obelisk monument is out there on a wee patch of
British soil. The Hawaiians killed him approximately where the
monument stands. He made a slight miscalculation and found himself on
the arse end of things. A wee bit embarrassing.
We Kiwis know about Captain Cook
because his ship the Endeavour is on our fifty-cent coin. He
was the first European to circumnavigate New Zealand and map its
coastline. They don’t usually mention we Maori were there well
before him, but I don’t care today. I feel sun-bronzed and tired
but good. We’re on a slow, easy paddle back. Rach is getting tired,
and I’m doing most of the arm work.
I look around; what’s that noise?
Rach stops paddling and looks too. She
points up, and I see the blue of the body fabric, with the
distinctive bright-yellow double wings.
“That looks like a Stearman,” she
says.
“That’s what I was thinking. I
didn’t think anyone here had a biplane. I wonder if that’s Bruce
from Oahu?”
“Could be, but I heard a rumor there
was a guy here with one too. I wonder if he’s at Keahole or Hilo.
He might be on the other side of the island.”
Suddenly I’m seized with an
overwhelming urge to find out where this plane is landing and who’s
flying it. My heart squeezes in my chest when I think about it.
Rach turns and looks at me. “What?”
she asks. Christ, she’s tuned in.
“I need to know who’s flying that
plane.”
We grin at each other, and she says,
“Let’s paddle.”
She digs her oar in, and we set a good
pace for the kayak landing at Napoopoo Road. By the time we arrive,
we’re both sweating heavily. Thank God the guys are here to haul
the boat out of water and tie her to the truck. I’m almost hopping
up and down with impatience to be off. Rach grabs my arm and points.
The Stearman is still flying around, back and forth along the
shoreline. I chuck a tip at the guys loading, and we race off up the
hill. We nearly throw the kayak off when we get to Kona Boys and step
on it down the hill into Kona.
It’s still flying, and I pray she
doesn’t suddenly keep going south over to Hilo. I’m driving as
Rach checks with the binoculars out the sunroof.
“She’s turning again…”
We’re through Keauhou, past the
turnoff for Kona itself and heading for the airport.
“She’s coming this way, starting
her descent, I think. Yeah, she’s flying the pattern. She’s going
to land at Keahole. Bet you.”
My heart is pounding. What the hell is
this? I guess we’re about to find out.
I turn left into Airport Road and cut
through to the private tie-down area in Ulu Street. We stand at the
fence and watch her land on runway one seven then weave back and
forth on the taxiway so the pilot can see. A woman’s flying, long
hair in a thick braid down her back. The face under the goggles and
helmet looks Hawaiian. Rach will love this. There are so few women
pilots, and both of us love open-cockpit biplanes to fly in.
Nothing beats the run along a grass
strip, a gentle pull back on the stick, and she’ll waft into the
air. Light as a feather, it’s a completely freeing moment for me.
We stand listening to the clack-clack
as the big wooden propeller comes to a stop. The pilot flips off the
switches and pulls off her gloves. Big hands for a woman. She gets
out and walks down the wing, dropping onto the ground. Tall too. The
pilot bends down to push chocks under the front wheels of the
beautiful plane. All dope and fabric, gleaming sky blue, standing out
amongst the private heavies and small private planes like Cessnas and
Piper Cubs.
She’s checking the plane. Damn, if I
were into women, she’d do something for me. She’s got a very
graceful way of moving, tall and lithe. I have to laugh. She’s
wearing slippahs. I point at her feet, and Rach grins. She
hates flying in shoes and would fly in jandals any day. Flip-flops to
the Americans.
She finally unwinds her white silk
flying scarf and chucks it into the cockpit. Her back to us, the
helmet and goggles go next. When she turns around, I’m in for the
shock of my life. I literally feel like my heart stops beating. It’s
not a woman pilot. It’s a guy, and he stares straight at me. My
hand tightens on the hurricane wire fencing we’ve been leaning on.
Shit, what the fuck is this?
He continues to stare. It feels like
he’s assessing me on some level, probing around in my soul,
whipping through the chambers of my heart, checking out the lay of
the land.
He’s beautiful. There isn’t another
word to describe him. Exotic looking. His features are fine, almost
Tahitian but not quite. He’s mixed with something else, a touch of
the East in his eyes. Long, braided, jet-black hair reaches to his
waist. He unzips his flight overalls and ties them around his
stomach. Broad brown shoulders stick out from a red tank, Polynesian
tattoos in a lei across his chest area, arm band ink just above his
elbows. Two earrings in one ear. I’m getting a hard-on.
Now he’s finished the inspection of
the plane, he takes a tow hook and connects it to the front of the
aircraft. Another guy comes over, and they pull the plane into a
hangar. I wonder if we’re going to have to track him down, but he
comes out a few minutes later, walking toward us, unbraiding his
hair. He combs it out with his fingers and flips his head down, then
back up, letting it stream out behind him in the wind.
“Fu…ck…” whispers Rach beside
me.
I’d agree with that assessment. Thank
God I decided to wear togs under my shorts. The Kiwi swimsuit might
contain my erection slightly. And if I could find some breath for my
lungs, it would help.
“Aloha,” he says as he approaches
the gate.
“Aloha. We love your plane. Are you
giving rides?” asks Rach.
“Not today. Wind’s getting up a bit
for a biplane, but tomorrow, if the wind’s good, sure.” He has
soft, gentle energy.
“Can we book in with you?”
Thank God Rach is talking. I’m struck
dumb. I feel like a complete idiot. He comes through the gate and
sticks his hand out to me. I shake it automatically. Then he turns to
Rach and shakes her hand too.
“Where are you guys from?”
He has a melodic voice, but that’s
not what has me mesmerized. The handshake went straight to my balls.
Then he’d smiled, and his eyes lit up. A deep brown abyss I fell
right into. Hook, line, and sinker.
“We’re Kiwis, but I live here. I’m
Rach, and this is my brother Matt. He’s visiting. We were out
paddling at Kealakekua, heard the lovely sound of the radial engines,
and followed you in.” She grins.
“Are you a pilot?” he asks her.
Rach points at me. “We both are.”
“Hey, that’s cool. You ever flown
in one of these before?” he asks quietly.
We both nod. I can’t even speak.
Every time I open my mouth to say something, no words come out. I
feel completely gormless.
“I’ve flown in a couple of Wacos,
Stearman, and Tiger Moth. Matt’s flown in a Gruman too, haven’t
you?”
I croak out a yes.
Then he does something which floors me.
He bites his lip and smiles shyly. His long eyelashes flick down onto
his cheeks. That makes him even more attractive. It’s a very
feminine gesture. Not something I’m expecting from a biplane pilot.
He turns back to Rach, and I hope the
muggy heat out here by the tarmac will account for my labored
breathing. I wave my hand in front of my face. “Hot,” I manage to
say.
“She’s a hot one today, yeah. A lot
of bugs too.”
I nod again. He’s got the slight
island lilt you hear in native Hawaiians who have grown up here.
He glistens; tiny rivulets of sweat run
down his chest, disappearing into the tank and soaking the front. His
chest is smooth, like a lot of Polynesian men.
“What time do you want to go up
tomorrow—the earlier, the better for the wind factor?”
Rach nods. “We’ll work in with
you.”
“You both going to fly?” he asks.
I nod.
“Well…good.” That shy smile
again.
“What time works?” asks Rach.
“You want to come out early. Let’s
say an eight and nine o’clock flight? I can put the stick back in
the front too, if you like. Then you can get some stick time.”
I finally find my voice. “I’d love
that.”
“Me too,” he says softly again, and
my breath is caught in my throat. “See you tomorrow. I’ll meet
you here.”
“Okay, groovy, sounds good,” says
Rach.
“Oh hang on; let me give you a card
in case you need to call for any reason.”
He rummages around in his flight bag,
pulls out his wallet, and gives us a card each.
Beau Toyama—his phone number and a
picture of the plane.
OK, WHO'S FREAKING OUT AND WANTING THIS BOOK LIKE NOW (RAISES HAND) HOLY CRAP! ( I AM ADDING THE BUY LINK IN NOW THAT IT IS RELEASE DAY, SO GRAB THIS ONE 3-17-15)
http://www.loose-id.com/hawaiian-lei.html HERE ARE MEG'S LINKS: :)
***
Henry and Isolde ~ Troika Love Series ~ Book 1 of Trilogy
~ Spring 2015 release
Saint Nicholas ~ a beautiful heartfelt m/f love story AMAZON
Dark War ~ a committed Troika/poly relationship. AMAZON
***
The Mystic Manifestor ~ Spiritual/Self-
***
"Everyone lives a thousand lives, but only one life to remember ~
Will this be yours?"
|
No comments:
Post a Comment