A deep heartfelt soul to soul male/male romance
**Winner of Two Honorable Mention Rainbow Awards**
and Runner-Up for Best Contemporary Gay Romance 2016
Two stunning island men, each experiencing different personal wounds, meet and fall in love. They find healing against the beautiful backdrop of the mystical Hawaiian Islands.
Kulani Mahikoa and Rob Masterson
Set in Kona, The Big Island of Hawai'i, and New Zealand
Kulani is “The Orchid,” a young, insecure, pro-surfer who comes from a rough background on the Big Island of Hawai’i. He’s Beau Toyama’s cousin from Hawaiian Lei. But he’s also a healer and has a heart as deep as the ocean he’s part of. Like the great Hawaiians, who have gone before him, warrior Kulani Mahikoa epitomizes the spirit of aloha and love. Kulani’s not only healing his own wounds, but “The Lost Boys”—young, homeless, abandoned and abused gay boys he’s taken under his wing.
Rob Masterson is a wounded psychologist who’s trying to come to terms with his husband Tony’s death. When he died, they were separated but still living together. Can the lone and lonely New Zealand widower reconcile all the pieces of guilt and love, to heal and fall in love again? When he drops anchor in Kona Harbor and meets the exotic islander—young, bolshie Kulani—explosive heat makes sparks fly between them.
Is the age difference between them a barrier or something they’ll get past? Kulani has more layers than Rob ever bargained for. And Rob’s tangled knot of responsibility, grief and guilt with his New Zealand heritage and past life is something he needs to untangle.
Two wounded men have to learn to trust and love one another. Traveling between the South Sea Islands of beautiful New Zealand and the exotic Hawaiian Islands—they forge a sea change, finding a home for their shrapnel laced souls.
and Mystery, Crime Fiction Writer
Willy Cartier is my muse for Danny Lucerno Jr.
My muse for Rob Masterson:
Kulani has a huge Orchid inked on his back
A traditional "paddle out"
for a Hawaiian
Hamoa Bay on Maui
The twins ~ Haru and Kisho
“Are you always this stroppy? Or only on a good day?”
“What do you mean?” he says, all attitude.
Jesus Christ, gorgeous he might be, but with the chip on his shoulder the size of a log, it's more work than I need right now.
“There’s the door.” I indicate with my head. “See yourself out.”
“You really want me to go home?” he says despondently.
I sigh. “Kulani, you’re so damn prickly, it’s like having a cactus shoved up my arse every two seconds.”
He runs his fingers through his long, curly black hair, sweeping it back with one hand, and digging his other one into his back pocket. I’d love to take him to bed, but this isn’t worth it. Too much attitude, too many issues. If I’m not picking prickles out of my skin, I’ll be treating myself for burns. He’s a lot of work.
“I’m sorry.” He shrugs. Even that has “fuck you” attitude. I’m past the age where I feel like babysitting someone.
I walk over and place my hand on his shoulder. “You’re stunning, but I’m too old for you.”
He drops his head, and I mentally exhale, waiting for the next bite from him. But when he looks up, he has tears in his eyes, and my heart takes a direct hit.
“You don’t really like me, do you?” he asks, biting his lip, eyes cast down.
“You’ve got an abrasive personality. I feel like I’ve been rubbed raw this evening.
It’s like being in a boxing match.”
His shoulders slump, and I have to hold myself back from pulling him into my arms.
I don’t need this sort of energy in my life. There’ll be tantrums and fights…hurt feelings over stupid things…
His hand comes up and rubs mine on his shoulder. He needs the touch, the connection with another human. I recognize that feeling. But this is inviting trouble, even for a quick fuck and one-night stand. I could do with the sex, but not the aftermath of spiky energy.
His breathing is up and down, as he’s trying to get himself under control. Fighting emotions, no doubt. Bugger it. He’s tugging at my bloody heart for some reason. That’s probably why I blurt out, “Come sail with me tomorrow. We’ll go over to Maui.”
For a split second, all the aggression falls away, and I get to see the vulnerable kid underneath. I shouldn’t really call him a kid. At twenty-five, he’s an adult, but still half my age. He squeezes my hand, and I take that as a yes.
“Meet me down at the boat about seven. Bring coffee from Lava Java. I’ll bring everything else.”
“Can we make it eight?”
God, he can’t even get his arse out of bed and be there early for an invitation. But I give in, nodding.
“Okay,” he says, tough-guy stance back in place. Oh to be that young and stupid again.
Speaking of stupid. What the hell am I doing inviting him out again tomorrow, when all I want to do is throw him out the door? Beautiful, yes, but the attitude leaves a lot to be desired. If I had to take a wild stab in the dark, I’d say he’s sitting on a ton of hurt. Layers and layers of it. He’s so bloody bolshie and oppositional, I’m exhausted from the evening. I like a decent intelligent convo with someone, interplay back and forth. The opportunity to get to know someone more. Flirt a little, or a lot. I’m probably too old-fashioned and been out of the game too long, but I need something different than what he’s after.
Then he throws his energy, and I get sideswiped again. “Don’t I get a kiss good night?” he says, raw sex appeal oozing from him, and I nearly grab him by his shirt to yank him to me. Now I’m fighting to control my breathing. “Please,” he says so softly I wonder if I’ve heard it right.
What a mix he is—seething rage, the log on his shoulder bashing me in the head all night. Then he becomes so vulnerable, it’s like someone rubbing balm into my abraded skin. His own version of BDSM, just done in a mental fashion. I amuse myself for a moment, thinking of a safe word I could use. Fun. That would be a good word. It’s the least likely word I can think of for this evening so far.
No, it’s not my thing. I wrote a paper for uni once and interviewed people in the scene. I probably know enough to be dangerous, but not enough for anything else.
I look at his eyes, the fragility. He’s asking me to not reject him, but I also see the humiliation at having to ask, to beg. I do my best internal Bogart voice. Buckle in, schweetheart, this could be a rough ride.
My muse for Kulani Mahikoa:
2016 Rainbow Awards Honorable Mention: Hawaiian Orchid by Meg Amor (012-02-17-2016)Sep. 27th, 2016 08:54 pm
1) Meg Amor takes the reader on a journey that’s both a love story between two complicated men, and a cultural travelogue of far-flung places which most of us will never see in person. Now I want to meet both Rob and Kulani, and I also want to go to Hawai’i and New Zealand, I want to feel the searing kiss of the tropical sun and taste the salt of the sea spray. I want to learn the Haka and learn more about the Maori, and I want more orchids! The plot, the characters, and the setting kept drawing me in, and the writing was strong enough despite the fact that I am not a big fan of the present tense. I’m looking forward to more books like “Hawaiian Orchid!"
2) This is a beautifully written story with passionate, well-developed characters about whom I grew to care deeply as I read. Amor’s descriptive powers are masterful, making me feel as if I had visited Hawaii and New Zealand even as she created a movie in my head. I am not usually a fan of stories written in 1st person, especially in the romance genre. But the alternating 1st person point-of-view, combined with the author’s use of the present tense created for me a vivid fictional dream. I was sad to see this book end and will seek out more of this author’s work.
Hawaiian Orchid (The Hawaiians Book 2) by Meg Amor
Gay Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Loose Id LLC (September 15, 2015)
Amazon Kindle: Hawaiian Orchid (The Hawaiians Book 2)
Kulani Mahikoa is “The Orchid,” a young, insecure, pro surfer from a rough background on the Big Island of Hawai’i. He’s Beau Toyama’s cousin from Hawaiian Lei and a healer with a heart as deep as the ocean he’s part of. Like many of the great Hawaiians, Kulani epitomizes the spirit of aloha and love. Kulani’s healing his own wounds, and “The Lost Boys”--young, homeless abandoned and abused gay boys he cares for.
He meets the lone and lonely New Zealand widower, Rob Masterson--a wounded psychologist who’s trying to come to terms with his husband’s death. When he died, they were separated but still living together. Rob needs to reconcile all the pieces of guilt and love to heal before he can fall in love again.
The age difference raises one barrier, and besides that, Kulani has more layers than Rob--with his own New Zealand heritage and tangled knot of emotion--ever bargained for. Traveling between the South Sea Islands of beautiful New Zealand and the exotic Hawaiian Islands, they forge a bond--two wounded men find a home for their shrapnel-laced souls.
Rainbow Awards Guidelines: http://www.elisarolle.com/rainbowawards/rainbow_awards_2016.html