Meg Amor's Blog

Aloha everyone. I’m taking part in a Blog Hop with The Little Things Blog Hop.
 This is just one of 117 stops on 
the Little Things Blog Hop!

The Little Things That Make Me Happy
Aloha everyone! Thanks so much for hopping by. Spring is one of those times of year where you start to feel that there is hope again. What looks dead begins to unfurl into life. You go from stark dark wood to leafy neon green new growth in what feels like days sometimes.
When I lived in Michigan a hundred years ago, the winters were abysmal. Six long tough months of the stuff. Snow everywhere. No blue skies for weeks on end. When it would hit O degrees C or 32 degrees F, everyone would be out there in their shorts and T-shirts. We looked for the first buds of yellow forsythia coming out. Driving to work each day was literally like watching time lapse photography. It was quite incredible actually to see.

And when you’ve been in a long winter of discontent or despair, sometimes it IS the little things that suddenly lift you up.

My husband died just over two years ago and I went through a phase where I couldn’t imagine EVER enjoying anything again. It all seemed so senseless. Then slowly, piece by piece, I started to become human again. What I noticed were the small things that actually made my happy. And they were funny things. Things I had perhaps taken for granted before or overlooked.
When Aaron died, two pictures on his fb page merged together. I knew he was telling me he was flying home on wings of love. :) and he was okay. 
One of the first things I brought that grabbed my soul was a delicious raspberry pink bath mat with a nice deep pile that goes in my Hawaiian bathroom and feels lovely to put my feet on. I could stare for quite some time as I sat on the toilet at that rug. The colors were just so yummy. Then other things started to grab me.
Not quite the shade. Mine is more raspberry fruit color. Gorgeous 
My art looked vibrant again. I actually started looking at it, not just blankly passing it by each day. My big waterlily paintings sing to my soul now every day. I have lots of my art out and my bed/office is in such a position that I can all of it as I pan around the room. I love it. My black teak Chinese furniture with my gold good luck dragon on it. The nude statues I love to be surrounded by. Sensuous men and women—people inhaling life and enjoying it.




It wasn’t until I came to my new house though, that I started to live again, rather than just exist.
I hauled out all my Hawaiiana and have a fabulous hula girl bathroom now which I love. All the bright colors and the feel of the Hawaiian Islands which are my soul’s home. The red Aloha shower curtain, my raspberry fluffy bath mat. The hula girl tiles and hot neon colors. Pinks, oranges, aqua blues, neon greens and reds. Gorgeous!!
The red is my shower curtain fabric. :) 


I unpacked my paperweights and now the sunlight trips off them every day.






I have my books out again after they were packed away forever. They soothe me. All my treasures. When someone gives me a new book now, I get a special thrill from it. I couldn’t afford new books for a long time. And for Christmas I shouted myself a Kindle Fire. Now I can read in the dark like when I was a kid. I used to love reading under the blankets with a torch. Mum always said, “You’d ruin your eyesight.” LOL. I had 20/15 eyesight for years. We can deep six that old wives’ tale.
If I get bored lying in the dark, I can focus on Orion on my ceiling. I said when I came to this place, that I’d get myself some of the fluro-glow stars. I love those! I have put up the “Iron pot” which is Orion and it makes me feel part of Universe. I have to be able to look at the night sky and always see where Orion is. Then I feel settled and like all is okay with the world.


I lie back on about six feather pillows which I love. Besides me is my nearly twenty-year-old fur child, Leo Ray Jr, tucked up in his blankies. He’s my baby. Leo kept me going when I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other and had stopped caring about me. He sleeps on my big Eastern King on his feather pillows with his own blankets that are cuddly and warm for him. It means I can reach out and touch him in the night and know he’s still here with me. He’s still breathing. If I could have hooked him up to a baby monitor, I would have. J




He purrs when I tuck him into his blankies. Just purrs and purrs. Then he snuggles down like a wee kid, drifting off to sleep. It’s gorgeous.

When he wants to go out in the morning, he doesn’t do that cat scratching at door thing. Oh no. First, he stands on me and peers at me. Then a small hand presses into my face. Next, a light touch of claws. And when all else fails, he has now resorted to sticking a furry finger up my nose. I have to say, it’s one of the most unusual sensations I’ve ever experienced. If you took a piece of pussy willow plant and twirled it around inside your nostril—you’d get the sensation. It makes me laugh.



Another small thing with him that makes me happy. He got up last night and threw up several times. He's been looking rough and worrying me. But when he thew up, it was just a collection of nasty hairballs. Phew. Now I can stop worrying and freaking out over him. 
Without him and my friends who have got me back on my feet, I don’t know where I’d be. Probably not here.
There are just so many things that grab me now. Little things that makes me happy.
When I go home to Hawai’i in May, I’ll be drinking guava juice and POG like it’s going out of fashion. Heaven—I first discovered POG twenty years when I first landed in the Hawaiian Islands on my way to live in Mainland America. Passion-orange-guava juice. Nothing like it.



I’ll always be stuffing my face with mac nuts, gorgeous fatty, salted morsels of pure pleasure—grown right there on the Big Island. The coffee glazed ones are my next all time favs. Soooo good.


Flying down into Keahole Airport in Kona on the Big Island of Hawai’i. Over my all-time fav beach, Kekaha Kai. Heaven. Knowing I’m going to sitting on that beach soon, reading a book, eating Kona kettle chips, made on the island, and watching honu (turtles) swim past. You can’t beat it.





When I get off in Kona, I always go and grab a fresh plumeria lei if no one is there to greet me. The velvety fragrance. It’s heady and intoxicating. The pure fragrance of the Big Island. When I get up each day, I’ll pick a single plumeria bloom, put it on a toothpick and slide it behind my ear. I wear Jessica McClintock perfume and for a while I ran out of it. My sister Rach bought me some for my birthday, then for Christmas. Now I have enough to last me for a couple of years and I wear it every day. It’s a small thing that gives me a lot of pleasure. I was thrilled to get it.





Other smells tickle my nostrils and give me good feelings. The One N’ Only Argan Oil hair restorer mask I put in my hair now instead of conditioner. It keeps my curls all sprongy, springy, and soft. I love this. My boss gave me a fabulous lilac scented candle for Christmas. Lilac…ohh…more heavenly smells.



I like to sit down at the end of the day with a 700ml glass, with a quarter of ice in it, half a shot of Bacardi and filled to the brim with diet coke. That first hit of fizzy bubbles…I love it.
Taste sensations of old like black jelly beans. Or the new FocacciBites in the tomato and oregano flavor. Each crisp wee biscuit, baked, and sprinkled with flavor for Africa. I ate a whole box of them last night. Sooo good!!


Flowers of every kind! Hot pink panties. Royal blue toe nail polish with aqua blue French trim I can afford to get done at the salon again. Seeing one of my books sell. Getting a fabulous review or a nice comment. Reading some new pieces of writing and loving them. Being given a book or knowing I have one to read on my Kindle. When someone says something nice to me or compliments me. Color!!! Bright tropical colors. And best of all, realizing that the black sexy panties I bought which barely went over my bum and only half way up my hips, now fit me!! J














What are your little things that make you happy?

Thanks for hopping by and hearing about some of mine. Please hop over to https://www.facebook.com/rebeccamoonauthor/and see what her little things are that make her day. J
This is just one of 117 stops on the Little Things Blog Hop! Make sure you visit each stop and enter the posted giveaway and don't forget to enter the rafflecopter which has a $50 Amazon gift card grand prize and a ton of other prizes! Who doesn't like winning cool prizes?
Take a look around you might just find your next favorite book!
Giveaway for this stop is the Hawaiian Orchid by Meg Amor
 
To Enter
➜ Be a follower of our most awesome Club page
➜ Like and Share this post
➜ Tell me what jewelry on a man makes you happy! (if any) :) I like everything! But especially earrings and bracelets. :) 
Next you will want to click on this link and visit Author Rebecca Moon https://www.facebook.com/rebeccamoonauthor/
Rafflecopter Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba44e54f2/? 
Join the Little Things Blog Hop Event for more fun and a giveaway!
https://www.facebook.com/events/562506680576207/
You can find links to all of the hop spots here! 
http://theclubbookpromotions.blogspot.com/…/LittleThingsBlo…
Thank you for hopping by! And good luck y'all!
Winner (s) will be chosen by Mr. Random and announced on this page and on the Little Things Event Page by April 6th.
FB is not in any way responsible or affiliated with this giveaway or the Little Things Blog Hop
Meg Amor*** http://www.troikaromance.com/ ***www.troikaromance.blogspot.com ***google+ *** twitter *** Facebook***~ Troika Love Series Trilogy ~
Henry and Isolde ~ a committed Troika/poly soul deep sensuous romance  ~ AMAZON
The Hawaiians Series Hawaiian Lei ~ Sensual m/m gay romance ~ AMAZONHawaiian Orchid ~ Sensual m/m gay romance ~ AMAZON ***Saint Nicholas ~ a beautiful heartfelt m/f love story AMAZON Dark War ~  a committed Troika/poly relationship. AMAZON***"Everyone lives a thousand lives, but only one life to remember ~Will this be yours?"















Also I have just put together a sampler of my three novels. There are two m/m gay romance and one m/m/f committed menage romance. All three are of sensuous romances and tell deep relationship love stories. 
Hawaiian LeiHawaiian OrchidHenry and Isolde




If you'd like a sampler, please just shoot me an email on jocnz@yahoo.com with the word SAMPLER PLEASE in the title and I'll send you a pdf file back of them. I get about 500 emails a day so if you put the header in there, I'll spot it right away. Or come over and join me on facebook. My main page is Meg Amor with the big big plumeria that has a rainbow overlay on it. :) And I can send you one from there. Aloha and thanks for stopping by. Meg :) 

Writing by the Seat of my Pantsers by Meg Amor - published on BTS ReviewsPlease help us welcome our guest author Meg Amor to the blog today.Aloha pantsers, my fellow “redheaded stepchildren” of writing. I’ve decided it’s time to take a stand because the plotters make me feel like I’m being a wayward, naughty child when I won’t “be sensible” or plan things out. They see my writing by the seat of my pants style as shambolic and disorganized.Plotters remind me of morning people.If I never hear another person say, “It’s the best part of the day.” Or I’m woken at seven a.m., just as I’m drifting off to sleep with a surprised and slightly offended, “Are you asleep?” It won’t be too soon.
Like the night owl, the pantsers are largely misunderstood and considered slightly “abnormal” and “weird” to the day larks and plotters.I’m in several writers’ groups and every day there’s some poor soul who writes in and says things like:I don’t think I’ll ever be a real writer; I can’t seem to get into a routine or write in the mornings. Sometimes I don’t write for days on end. They’re two minutes away from slitting their wrists and I want to yell, STOP! You’re fine, you’re normal. And um, you do have a backup copy of the manuscript you just deleted from your computer, don’t you?When I first started out as a writer, I read ALL the books on how to be a good writer. Because somewhere it probably has that on a rules list.
Do not attempt to even write one word until you have read every single book on being a writer. You won’t be eligible for your gold stars if you do. 
When I read other people’s rules on being a writer, I came away feeling completely demoralized. I thought, I haven’t got a hope in hell of pulling this off. There’s no way I can follow all those rules. I really did want to be a writer, but obviously I was kidding myself. Bugger!I let it set me back for a while, but eventually I got brave and just wrote anyway. I flouted convention, and discovered that regardless of the way I write, publishers still wanted to publish my work and the readers seemed to like me.
I want to give the pantsers PERMISSION to be themselves. No apologies, feeling silly, guilty or like rotten awful people because they didn’t do a three-page character analyze of every single character in their book.The pantsers need a different view from the one they normally encounter. So please plotters, don’t send me death threats. The only thing that consoles me is that you’ll have to plan it out in detail—that should give me time to move somewhere else and go into the Witness Protection Program.In the meantime, I want someone starting out to realize, you can write anything and be good at it, even if you never follow a single writer’s “rule.” And there are lots of them. Every famous writer has a list of what works—for them.
What worked for Ernest might not work for you.Jack wrote out in the wilds of California. Ernest in piratesville Key West. John on the Monterey Coast. None of them sound alike. They were all unique in their own way. So are you.Take advantage of that. It doesn’t make sense that we all follow the same path in the stories or styles we write, or the way we set up our workday.
The fact is: the plotters and pantser writers just do it differently and that’s okay. If I’d listened to the “experts,” I’d still be unpublished.So, here are my pantser “anti-rules.” Feel free to COMPLETELY ignore them!

I don’t have set times I write.I write with a half shot of Bacardi in a 700ml glass, a quarter filled with ice and overflowing with diet cola at hand.I write at three in the morning or five at night.I write in dribs and drabs.I write some days and not others. I’ll percolate a wee fantasy I play over and over in my head until it’s perfect. Then I write it down while it’s running “hot.”I never walk away from a hot scene. I write it down before it disappears.I don’t care about spelling, my dreadful syntax or my New Zealand education, grammatical errors etc. I’ll edit later.I don’t care that I’m slightly dyslexic. Sometimes odd words turn up in my manuscripts. I fix them later. I wrote the whole of one book, reading it (no kidding) at least two hundred times, and it was only on the read through out loud that I realized I’d put in clique instead of cliché. I laughed and laughed.If I have a scene that’s delicious. I don’t wait to get to the juicy part. I start in the middle of it, then “backfill” it later. Adding in the texture or setting of the scene.I write the end sometimes before I have the beginning.I write random scenes, and dialogue. Cut and paste is my friend.I make random notes to myself on yellow legal pads, which are all over the house. God help me if I ever had to ACTUALLY find a piece of info. But that’s okay. The notes say things like: “Kulani, surfer, abused? Orchid tattoo.” “Charlie, pocket watch? Very sexy.”I research randomly, Hawaiian history, a phrase here, a fact there.I edit when I feel like it. Editing is fun.I let my characters and the Muses do what they want. I just take dictation and type like billy-o to get it all down. And I write more than one story at once if it’s there.I write whole novels from one scene in my head, one sentence I hear, or one picture that grabs me.And my editor does not want to kill me when I submit a manuscript.So buy a good pair of ear plugs and blinders my wee redheaded writers and get typing.
By admin|February 4th, 2016|Daily Blog|Comments Off on Writing by the Seat of my Pantsers by Meg Amor

 Aloha everyone :) This was a wonderful promo and competition I got to participate in. We all had to write a short story about this picture for the winter edition of ManLove Fantasies. And I hadn't written for a while but I loved doing this. It was really fun. So have a wee read and all the stories are over at manlovefantasies.blogspot.com :) Aloha Meg :) 





WINTER IN PARADISEDespite growing up in the tropics, I can’t get used to winter in Hawai’i. I’d come out from the cold, hard winters of Michigan where we didn’t see sunlight or even blue skies for weeks on end. But here on the Big Island of Hawai’i, it feels like an affront to my senses. Every day I wake up to sultry warm air, and birds chirping. The summer scents of ripe tropical fruit permeate the air, and the impossibly aqua blue water of my pool and the ocean is just outside my bedroom slider that opens onto a private lanai.It’s paradise but I’m still wallowing in the “winter of my discontent.” I’m not ready to “hang loose” and go “native.” Aloha shirts and slippahs. Partly because my ability to relax has gone the way of the dinosaur. I can’t unwind, and take little pleasure in things that once had my attention. Yes, I’m burned out, slightly cynical, and tired. God, I’m tired.I stand out on the lanai in my boxers and survey my new kingdom. The sweet but subtle rich, velvety perfume of plumeria trees in hot and soft pinks, pure whites, and golden yellows cloak my nostrils. They look so silky, I want to reach out and pluck one, nibble on its delicate flesh. I laugh at my fanciful mind, making up childish images. The islands of my youth, a place I’d played as a carefree kid, but that kid is long gone.I walk back inside and open my closet to grab something for work. A multitude of black on black, and discreet classical navy shades with the odd tiny white thread running through them invade my closet—suits. I can’t get out of the habit, and I’m not sure I want to. I like looking and feeling professional in my job. It’s a point of pride for me. I’ve worked too long and hard to get where I am. Maybe too hard.I don a subtle lightweight charcoal one and pick an attractive flame colored tie with subtle flecks of yellow and reds in it. Against the black suit, it looks like a long tongue of lava—Madam Pele’s hair flowing down my chest. I look good.I run my hand over my shaved head and wonder if I’ll ever grow it back. There aren’t any visible scars to cover up but I still feel exposed to the world. And I still look pale and non-Polynesian, even to myself. I need a tan, something to make me look healthy on the outside at least.Turning away from my image, I grab badge and cuffs, adjust my shoulder holster and slide into my suit jacket. All set for another day in paradise.We’re investigating a series of break-ins. Expensive homes occasionally visited by off islanders. Ripe for the plucking in a way. Today, I’m checking on properties that are isolated to see if anything looks disturbed or out of the ordinary.

****When I round the corner of the monster house with an unimpeded view of Maui across the channel, I’m surprised to find someone swimming in the pool.I hold up my badge. “Detective Marques Tuisamoa. Are you the owner of the house?”“No, why?” he asks.“Friend of the family, relative of some kind?”He shakes his head, regarding me with some amusement. “Why are you wearing a suit?”“I'm Samoan. It's part of our religion.”He laughs, his green eyes twinkling, a wild mouth shows expensive American dentistry and a sexy pink tongue caught between them.I’m trying hard not to smile, surprised I managed to make a joke, dry as it was—and he got it.“It's too hot to be wearing a tie. You should at least take that off.” Another puzzled look as if I’m defying logic.The truth is, I am hot. But I also don't like to expose parts of my body to public scrutiny. It makes me uncomfortable. A bullet with flying shrapnel had made a mess of my collarbone and part of my neck. I’m aware of not having the body beautiful in some of the clubs I like to frequent. I have calves the size of ham hocks like a lot of Samoans but my chest is a mess. I’m ashamed. I don't want to let it affect my masculinity but sometimes I feel less than. “What’s your name and address?”“Duke and around.”I sigh heavily.“Full name, full address.”“Edward Duke Kukeakalani Dole. Hawaiian Coastal Beach Access, Big Island, Hawai’i.”I purse my lips at his smart-ass answer. He doesn’t look like he has Hawaiian ancestry but I bet he’s a local, not kama’aina with that last name. Hapa perhaps, half Hawaiian, half haole. And possibly homeless. A good candidate for the break-ins. He’s probably camped around here somewhere.But when I question him further, I don’t get the feeling he’s behind them. You get a feel for people over the years and this one just doesn’t strike me as a criminal of any kind. Other than the odd skinny dip in someone else’s pool. He’s young, early twenties maybe. Short hair with a striking tinge of red in it and dark eyebrows.He pulls himself out of the pool, and I do my best to maintain my cop face. It's hard to, though, with what he barely has on. A pair of neon green bikinis mold over an impressive coil of cock and meaty plump balls. They're dragging his swimwear down slightly and dark pubic hair is tantalizingly displayed at the waistband. I feel myself responding and shove my hands in my pockets to tent my pants out and do some swift rearranging if need be.There's a slight gape of fabric at his thigh, and my eyes are glued to it.“You can't swim in here. It's private property.”“Says who? There's no fence. It's not harming anything. No one uses it.”For a moment I'm lost for words. He seems so sure of the logic of these statements.“You should wear a lava-lava suit. Let your balls breathe,” he says like he’s been considering this for a while.My brain busily dances around these images, and I imagine wearing a traditional formal pinstripe lava-lava sarong with an impressive erection tenting the fabric.He adjusts his bikini, swiping his hand over his tasty looking package, and I want it to be my hand. My mouth. Duke grabs a nearby towel and dries himself quickly and efficiently, lingering slightly over his crotch. Rubbing his cock and balls with the towel, making them jiggle in the skimpy costume.I breathe in sharply and resist the urge to lick my lips.Like his namesake, Duke Kahanamoku, he has a powerful swimmers body. Heavily muscled shoulders. A solid, defined chest above ribs that look like they’ve been damaged at some point. I wonder how he can be okay with showing that in public. Belatedly, I wonder if it's why he chooses to swim in private pools. Away from prying eyes.Intelligent green eyes regard me. Waiting to see what I'll do next.“Well, you can’t just go around swimming in people’s pools that don’t belong to you,” I say, hoping to sound stern and authoritative.“Why?” He’s toweling his head now. Then he drops the towel and adjusts his swimsuit. Cupping his balls, hefting the weight of them in his hand, snapping the waistband of his bikinis as they cover the pubic hair.My mouth jets with saliva, balls tingling and already aching. I’m grateful for theform-fitting pair of boxers I put on this morning.I can’t answer his question. “Just don’t do it again, there’s a whole free ocean there.” I point to the turquoise water gently rolling onto the golden sand beach. Then gruffly stomp off back to my truck, turning up the AC as far as it will go and spreading my thighs, palming my cock. The intense throb and need sends spikes of desire thrumming down my thighs.Punk kid.****I keep running into Duke on the island. It’s not that big, so this isn’t that surprising but he’s got a knack of being around. I start to wonder again whether I have him pegged wrong. There’s a vulnerability under the casual, hang loose, da kine attitude. But I still don’t like him for the break-ins. The jobs are too professional; they know what they’re targeting.We always have a funny conversation, and he always wants to get me out of my clothes but not in the way I’ve fantasized about.“That’s a nice tie, I haven’t seen that one,” he comments as I once again catch him swimming laps in a borrowed pool.I’ve given up telling him off because he’s rubbing off on me, and even I’m starting to wonder what the harm is. I must be finally relaxing; I realize with a start. I’m slowly defrosting from my painful past on the Mainland.Besides it’s good security to have someone around these places occasionally. Give it a sense of someone living there. I notice he often does small jobs around the place, and in the end I co-opt him into keeping an eye out for me. He’s been giving me bits and pieces of information he’s noticing on his travels and some of the intel is checking out. We’ll get these cocky bastards soon.“Call me,” I tell him.“Don’t have a phone.”I end up buying him a cheap throwaway one with some minutes on it and slip him a twenty here and there as a look out fee.Every time I see him, he has on a different swimsuit. I thought he was probably boosting them but I didn’t have the heart to talk to him about it. Later, I realize he’s borrowing guest bikinis, which he seems to prefer, from unlocked pool cabanas. It’s Hawai’i. People aren’t always fanatical about locking everything up. I’m finally getting used to the casualness here but I’m no further ahead in this investigation, and it’s frustrating me.I often pick up a couple of plate lunches or bento boxes in the hope of finding him somewhere. I’m seeking him out more and he seems in tune with my schedule too.We now have long conversations about personal things I’ve never talked to anyone else about. There’s an anonymity in it, a safe feeling. Two lost men, nursing some serious wounds and confessing to all our inadequacies and guilt.He is homeless, kicked out for being gay, but still wants to try and make the Olympic swim team one day. The rib marks are past abuse and my stomach curls in horror for him. I gingerly show him my chest and he traces his fingers over it, examining, commenting, not letting me put my tie back on that day.“Warrior scars. We all have scars, some are just more visible than others,” he says.I clasp his hands between my thighs as I sit on the edge of the pool with my suit pants legs rolled up. We sit in companionable silence and eventually he rests his forehead on our hands, kicking gently in the clear blue pool water. I release one hand to gently stroke the back of his head and eventually shrug out of my hot black jacket.****I’m lulled into peace and feeling good with the intimacy when there’s an excited call over the radio.“Damn.”We smile at each other, and he pushes off the wall to start swimming laps again.I slide into my shoes, no socks, and take off at a fast clip, heading for my vehicle and a property a couple of miles away. I arrive in the middle of it, adrenaline pumping, gun drawn, but it doesn’t take us long to round everyone up. Surprisingly no shots fired. Welcome to the islands. Three guys from O’ahu—all with some serious form.****After we process them and get them situated in their new home for the night, I’m hot, aggravated, and tired. I’m glad to see the back of the little bastards.The captain assigns us to a new case each, and I realize with a pang that I won’t be in the area to see Duke as much.“You want to go for a surf?” asks my partner, who’s finally arrived back at the station from his training course.“Sorry, man, got something to do, but another time.”“No worries, yeah,” says Kukio. He gives me the shaka, his thumb and little finger jiggling as he ambles off.****I drive a little too fast for the island, where the tourists are easy to spot because they speed. Whereas the locals just cruise, often under the speed limit, taking their time, relaxed and laid back. I’m finally starting to do it myself.But not now. I’m on a mission.When I pull up to the property, I sit for a moment, hoping I have this right.He’s swimming laps, his powerful, wiry body, cutting through the blueness. I lean down and put my hand in the water on the wall as he does a turn. He pushes off but stops, floating on his back, clearly pleased to see me.“We got them.” I sit down on my ass by the edge of the pool. Legs akimbo, black regulation shoes lined up with the tile edge.“You look like you need to cool off, get out of that hot suit.” He hooks his finger at me, an invitation. He’s wearing cute little black bikinis today with a pinky trim.I hesitate and he swims toward me. He reaches up, grabs my legs, then my tie, and pulls me into the water.The first kiss is hot and searing. My hands automatically reach for his sexy ass, sliding my big hands beneath the skimpy fabric onto his rounded cheeks as I hoist him onto my hips. His lips are damp and salty from the pool water, they pull mine slowly, then his hot pink tongue searches for mine.Duke groans softly, nibbling my earlobe, shuddery lips pulling the soft skin, sending spikes of intense need into my groin. He rubs his crotch against my wet shirt, his cock already thick and curving up toward his stomach. I pull back to admire him and he loosens my tie enough to drag it over my head. His nimble fingers undo my buttons, pushing the suit jacket off my shoulders, letting it float away and sink into the pool.He points, and I frown.Oh! I wade across the pool to set him on the edge and carefully lay my service weapon on the side with my holster.Quick fingers unbutton my shirt and it’s flung behind us into the pool.“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, tracing his tongue over my scars, seizing a brown nipple. Flicking and tugging the nub until it’s hard and erect, so sensitive, it’s sending tendrils of intense need to my cock.He’s sexy as hell, his cockhead defiant and proud above the waistband of the tiny bikinis. I squeeze his length through the wet fabric and he arches his back, lifting his ass, allowing me to slide them down. It exposes shaved plump balls that beg to be sucked and fondled.Spreading his muscled thighs, I pull him closely for my first taste, running my tongue down his long slender length. Swirling his balls, lifting his thighs with my hands so I can lick all the way to his asshole. My tongue pushes at the tight sensitive pucker, and he cries out with pleasure.Sucking and licking, his hands grip my shoulders, soft moans and impressive guttural sounds when I slide a mouth-lubed finger into his ass. “Yes, yes,” he whispers.I heave myself out of pool and strip down for him. He lies back wantonly on the warm tile, thighs spread, his hands pulling his stiff dick and fondling his high, tight balls, trailing his fingers down to his sensitive hole and pushing a finger in. Fucking himself for me, inviting me in.I’m shaking so badly; I can barely undo my zipper. When I finally pop out of my sodden suit pants and wet boxers, he stills and squeezes his cock, lips trembling.“Want you so badly,” I mumble, as I sink to my knees between his thighs.“Yes.” he agrees and sits up to heft my balls in his hand, then sinks his hot mouth over my knob.I push into his throat, whimpering with desire.When’s he’s sucked and jacked my dick until I can barely kneel anymore, he pushes me over onto my back and crawls over to his backpack. His cock and balls swing beautifully in the encroaching sunset and he returns with lube and a condom.He sits on my chest, facing away from me, and I nuzzle his sexy ass, licking the delicate asshole as he cries out with lust. I run long laps of my tongue from his pucker to his balls until neither of can stand it any longer. Lubing my finger, I push his pucker apart and squirt the silky fluid inside and he shudders deeply. Pulling his thighs apart farther, I shimmy him back and drop his smooth balls into my mouth, one by one, rolling them, sucking the skin through my teeth gently.He sinks down onto my face, the male smell of him overriding the salty pool water now, and my dick is like granite. When he stops sucking my cock and slides the condom over it, lubing and jacking me, I nearly come on the spot. He turns himself around, and I hold his hips as he lowers himself over my aching hard-on, that’s begging for an ass to slip into.“Fuck, your cock’s big,” he moans, grinning like crazy, sinking himself onto it inch by inch, pulling away, coming back for more, until he finally lets himself be filled by my shaft, balls deep.He curls down onto my chest and tenderly kisses me. I rub his back and sweet ass cheeks, letting him ride me at his own pace. Licking his neck, watching him tremble, matching my shudders of need. Slow, hot kisses, tongues entwined, skin to skin, sensuous love making like I haven’t had in a long time.His ass clamps, squeezing my cock and fire shoots down my thighs, my ass throbbing with the intense ache. Both of us moaning, the sounds drifting off into the dusky, heated air.My hand is wrapped around his length, twisting and twirling the satiny head as it pushes up through my fist, the red tip urging me on. I push up into his ass and he cries out as he explodes, long white filaments shooting over my hand and our stomachs. Guttural sounds of deep need emit from us as I’m also pushed over the edge, feeling the sweet release into this sweet man.Both panting hard, his damp head flops onto my chest, and I nuzzle his hair, wrapping him in my arms, enjoying the connection. Enjoying him.When we finally come up for air, he points at my suit jacket and shoes at the bottom of the pool. “Don’t think you’ll be wearing those again.”I laugh and laugh. A sound that breaks up the last hard pieces of defense in my chest.Yes, it’s about time I trusted again and slipped back into my island roots where my inner self gets to exhale every day.“Want to come and help clean out my wardrobe. Make some room in there for your sexy little bikinis.”He stills, his eyes wide, questioning.“There’s a pool that’s just right for you. I don’t like you living down here on the beach. It worries me. I want to know you’re safe in my arms at night.” I pause…“I think I’m in love with you…” I wait, worried I’ve given too much away, making myself too vulnerable.But he smiles and says softly, “I love you too. I have for a while.” We stroke each other’s faces tenderly, eyes locked. I close mine as intense relaxation soaks into my soul.“I’m only coming on one condition, though,” he whispers in my ear.“Name it.”“On Aloha Fridays, I get to choose what Hawaiian shirt you wear.”~~@~~

HAWAIIAN ORCHID available now!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.

Hawaiian Orchid by Meg AmorEdited by Heather HollisCover Art by Syneca FeatherstonePublished by Loose Id, LLCwww.troikaromance.comAmazon: http://tinyurl.com/pkg5vksLoose Id: http://tinyurl.com/nuklqoyAll Romance Books ARe: http://tinyurl.com/qfn6245Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/qaltpgzBarnes and Noble: http://tinyurl.com/phg6qey

Kulani Out in the living room, I get a fright to see Rob leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed.“What do you want?” I snarl. Just fuck off, Rob.“You,” he says, and Danny’s head swivels around. The twins stop cutting up the sandwiches.I lick my lips. I don’t like being put on the spot like this.Kaleho opens the screen door and steps inside. He touches Zane’s arm, and Zane takes the headphones off, standing behind Kaleho, clutching his shirt. His eyes big and wide, scared.I turn to Zane so he can see my lips moving. “It’s okay,” I say, as smoothly as possible, though my heart is jackknifing, thumping hard. “It’s okay,” I say to everyone again. “This is Rob.”Danny fist bumps him. The twins say “hi” in unison, then pile up their sandwiches on a plate and rush out the door to their ohana unit, leaving everyone else’s food scattered on the counter. I’m pissed off at Rob for intruding on my space. I divide up the sandwiches and put them on plates. Rob doesn’t move, and I’m trying to calm myself. The panic edges up into my throat. I rip off paper towels for everyone and pour glasses of milk.“Come and get the sandwiches,” I tell them.Danny piles everything on a tray and shuffles the other boys outside onto the lanai.Rob has a million questions on his face.“Do you want a sandwich?” I ask him. God knows why.“No. I’m…I’m good,” he says. He rubs his nose, looking pained.I realize he isn’t going anywhere.Taking in a deep breath, I say, “Come down to my bedroom.”He pushes off the counter and follows me. I shut the door and stare at him. He looks out of place. His elegant self in my flop house.I indicate the bed, and he slowly sinks down. His knees come up around his chest on my soft bed, which sits on the floor.I’m embarrassed when I look around. It looks like a teenage boy lives here. Surfboards lean against the wall, surf shit everywhere, clothes, my office stuff wedged in the corner. You can’t even see my desktop. The rest of the house isn’t any better. Half the kitchen doors are missing. I’m working on it slowly. The whole kitchen needs to be ripped out and refitted. Beau and I are going to do it. We just haven’t made time. It looks like shit. I’m seeing it all through his eyes, and it’s not an attractive picture.“You flat with all these guys? Room with them?” he asks.“Sorta, yeah.” I feel itchy.“They’re kids.”I nod.“You rent this place together?” Rob’s clearly puzzled.“No.” I know I’m being awkward, but I can barely talk. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in. I’m fighting for breath.I see the concern on his face, but everything’s coming down a tunnel at me. Oh shit, fu—* * * *When I come to, he’s bathing my face with a cold washcloth. One hand on my wrist takes my pulse while Danny holds his phone, showing Rob the face.“Let’s get him on the bed,” Rob says.“He fain sometimes, when things too untens. Random,” says Zane, his voice high-pitched and frightened. He can’t hear himself with his hearing loss.Oh fuck, just go, Rob. Enough humiliation for one day.They lift me onto the bed. I feel helpless and woozy. He strokes my hair back off my face. The gentleness makes me want to cry.Kaleho hands him some water. Rob’s arm pulls me up slightly so I can sip it. I feel like a weak baby. Everyone’s faces are worried. I don’t want the kids to be upset.“I’m okay. I just got a bit overwhelmed. Rob’s a good person. Danny.”He nods and ushers Zane and Kaleho out, shutting the door.God, I’m exhausted. I haven’t had one of these attacks for months. They leave me wiped out. Fuck it. Another fucked-up thing to add to my list of faults.“Go,” I say to Rob.“I don’t think so.”“I’m okay.” I feel like I’m slurring.He sits, eyeing me up, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Probably that I need to be sectioned.He stands up, and I figure he’s going, but instead he undresses himself and then me. Rolling me under the sheet, he slides in next to me. He pulls my body into his, spooning me into his groin.“I want you to sleep. I love you. I’m right here. You’re safe. It’s all going to be okay. I’m not leaving you,” he whispers tenderly.My throat instantly closes up, and fat tears track down my face. I squeeze his hand, and he murmurs, “I know.”* * * *I wake thinking I’m alone, but he’s only in the bathroom. When he comes back, he slides against my ass again. The comfort of his warm skin on my back, his pubes and cock against my ass, drops me back into sleep.When I’m awake again, the sun’s on its way up. He’s lying on his back now, dead to the world. I remember last night and cringe. But I also realize—he’s still here.I lie with my head on my elbow, noting all the contours of his face and chest. He has sexy shoulders. Then I remember him saying I love you. He said it several times. Maybe that was just to comfort me. But I don’t think Rob would do that. He’s too straightforward. I want it to be real. I probably have it wrong. Fuck, my head’s messed up.I slide out of bed and check on the boys. Zane and Kaleho are cuddled together in their bed. Danny’s asleep in his room. The twins will be okay; they weren’t here when it was all going down.I switch the coffeemaker on. Cursing at whoever didn’t fill the dispenser or do the filter. I switch it off and start from scratch. While it’s gurgling and doing its thing, I check on what supplies we need. Fuck, how many sandwiches did they eat yesterday? The three fresh loaves of bread are all gone, and there’s none in the freezer. God, they can eat. Teenagers. Christ.I grab a pen and find the grocery list. At least they’ve remembered to write down what we need. It’s Zane and Kaleho’s turn to come with me for groceries after school. I make them take turns so they get used to things like this. We need toilet paper, water, condoms, and bulk stuff.I come back to the fact that Rob said he loved me—several times. Maybe I don’t have it wrong.I want to say it back, but I’m too scared.One time, I said it to my mom, and she’d rolled her eyes at me. Shoving that thought aside, I grab a coffee cup. When I’ve ladled in the sugar and cream, I go back to check on Rob. He’s still asleep. I look around my room, wondering if there’s any damage control I can do before he wakes up. Not really. I give up and slide back into bed with him.When he finally wakes up, he reaches for me, cupping my cock and licking my lips.“Coffee and cock—it’s a nice way to wake up.” He smiles. It makes me laugh.“Do you want a coffee?” I ask.“God, yes, please. I’ll use your toilet, and is it okay if I use your toothbrush? Wine always leaves me feeling furry.”I laugh and nod. He kisses me and sits up, scratching his head and balls. I reach down and nip his ass. He grabs me around the neck, planting a kiss on my head.When he stands up, I appreciate the view as he walks to the bathroom. Nice ass on him, strong legs.I grab him a coffee and a fresh one for myself. I’m calmer now. My brain’s not so fuzzy and fucked-up.He comes out of the bathroom and slides back into bed with me. “Thanks, babe. God, that smells good. Pure Kona. Yum.”I let him take a couple of sips, not sure where to start.“I’m sorry I fucked up last night,” I blurt out.“It’s okay. We have to talk about some things, though. I’m not going anywhere, all right?”I suck in air, and his hand rests on my chest.“You’re safe. I would never want to hurt you.”I put my hand over his and take some deep breaths, like I’ve been taught to calm myself. His finger grabs my thumb, and he nods in time with my breathing.“How often do you faint? Is it from a panic attack?”“Yeah. Um, just, you know…sometimes.”“Weekly, monthly, every few months?”“It depends on what’s going on. How stressed I get.” I shrug.“Okay. Do you know it’s coming?”“Yeah, mostly. I know I’m getting wound up.”He nods, his warm eyes showing me only concern. I’m trying to breathe into this. Telling myself he’s still here, he didn’t leave me. He kissed me this morning, and he’s got his hand on my chest. He said nice things before.“I can probably help you with those, if you’d like to let me try,” he says gently.I shut my eyes in embarrassment. I hate them. How can this man keep on loving me when I’m this fucking broken? “How can you say you love me when I’m so fucked?” I burst out.He sighs heavily. “Kulani, I find you beautiful in so many ways. You’ve got a special soul that’s captured me. I know things are hard for you sometimes, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”“I fuck up. I say the wrong things. It’s messed up.” Like now. He’s just told me nice things, and I’m mouthing off at him.He smiles.“I don’t mean to be rude all the time.”“I know.” He strokes my face, love in his eyes for me.“Why are you doing this with me? You can go out with anyone. You’re gorgeous and together. I’m just a fucked-up islander.”“Kulani, you’re so stunning. You have no idea. Why do you want to be with me? I’m an old man. You can get some young, studly guy.”He’s kidding, right?“I don’t get on very well with young guys. I like older men.”“I have gray in my hair.” He points to his temples. “I have gray in my pubes.” He searches for one to show me, and I laugh.“So. What do I care?”“I’ve got lines on my face.” He grimaces.“Yeah, I like them. Sexy.”He laughs. “What do you mean you don’t get on with younger guys? You’ve got a household of them. And actually, they’re really young?” His look is questioning.“They’re just kids who need a break, you know.”“Are they all gay?”I nod. I see the realization sweep over his face, and he shuts his eyes, biting his lip.“Are they all homeless?”I nod, wondering what he’s going to say.“Jesus, Kulani.” He runs his hand through his hair, making it spike up. I love that look. Then he grabs the back of his neck, like he’s trying to squeeze some tension out. I’m not so crazy on that look.He swallows hard. “You’re a good man.” His voice catches.“I just do what I can.”“You feed them all? Look after them?”I nod.“Tell me about them, please.”“The twins are fifteen. Haru and Kisho. Lived with mom—she’s a druggie, got a new boyfriend. Thought they’d be nice, fresh young meat for him.”Rob’s mouth opens in a silent gasp, and I nod.“Danny got thrown out when he came out. He’s seventeen. Good waterman. He was living on the beach.”“Wow,” says Rob, taking it all in.“Zane and Kaleho have been best friends since they were little keiki. They’re sixteen, nearly seventeen. Kaleho’s really good at school. He should get a scholarship. Zane has a harder time—he’s quite deaf and has been bullied. Kaleho’s dad threw him out when he found him cuddled up with Zane one night. They weren’t doing anything, but his dad threw a shit fit.”Rob’s lips press together in anger.“When Zane’s dad found out, he did his nut as well, and they were either forced to not see each other or suffer the consequences. They ran away, stole some things from me. We sorted it out. I’ve tried to talk to their fathers, but no one’s budging. One of them is really religious, and you don’t want to hear what he has to say. The other one’s just stupid. All Hawaiian he-man. ‘My son’s not gay; he’s been corrupted by that little faggot, retard kid, Zane.’ You know, the usual shit.”“Bloody Nora,” says Rob.“Yeah.”“Who owns this house?”“I do. My grandfather left it to me. It’s not great, but it’s okay for everyone. Needs some work, as you can see, yeah?” I grimace slightly.“Just cosmetic stuff. Nothing major. It has good bones, fabulous view.”I smile. He’s right. It does. My bed looks out on the lanai and down to Kona harbor.“You’re a good man, Kulani Mahikoa.”I screw up my face and shake my head at him.“Yes, you are. You’re very loving and caring. You have a big heart.”“I’m fucking broken.”“No. You have some pieces that might need a bit of duct tape and tender loving care. But you, the person, are not broken.”I frown. “How can you love me when you saw what I did last night?” I’m holding my breath, waiting for Rob to deny it, roll his eyes at me or something.“Despite being a bolshie wee shit, you’re actually pretty easy to love.” He reaches for me, and I put both our coffee cups down. I want to cave, just give in to him, feel safe and loved…Rob strokes my cheeks, his eyes never leaving my face. My cock’s already stretching, reaching for him. His lips pull my mouth, and I groan. Damn, he’s a sexy man. We fondle each other’s cocks and balls. I love his shaft in my mouth. Sucking his dick sends me off the charts sometimes. I push him onto his back and run my tongue down into the hollow of his throat. Cupping his neck, I work my way down to his tender pink nipples. I pump his cock while I tug the delicate treats for my tongue. He’s sensitive too. He’ll jerk, and his back will spasm when I play with him. It’s a turn-on.Shit, this is arousing. He moans slowly, running his fingers through my hair, stroking my head. I like my hair being touched; it’s comforting. I lick down his stomach, dancing my tongue over his knob. “Ohhh fuck…” He sighs. I wrap my hair around his dick, using the strands to lever it into my mouth. I tie it around his cock and balls, like a present, and he laughs. “Stop teasing me,” he groans.Pushing his thighs apart, I take long, lingering licks along the soft inner part of his thigh. I cup his balls in my mouth, one by one, rolling them around, sucking them in and out. He grips my hair hard. It’s a pleasure to take him up to the edge, then roll him onto his stomach. He lets me spread his thighs as far as they’ll go and pull him slightly onto his knees, so his ass is exposed. His dick swings beneath him. I want that shoved in my ass, but I also want to rim him, make him squeal. Touch his secret hot spot.Normally we go faster than this, but today I want to explore the territory of his body, open him up.I lap him from his ball sac to his pucker. He clenches slightly, and I tease around his rosebud with my tongue, flicking and licking. His thighs are shaking. I suck one of my fingers, wetting it to slowly penetrate him. He gasps sharply, and I add more natural lube with my tongue. I still my finger, then slowly vibrate it until he pushes back onto me, and I can enter him farther. He’s shuddering, his breath shaky, but I want to hit his hot spot. I push his spine down and lick along his backbone. He’s panting, pressing back into me, letting me probe him more. When I slide in another finger, he fists the pillows.I hit the prostate, and he squeals into the pillow. Now he’ll let me fuck him with my fingers. I nuzzle his face and suck his ears.He’s groaning, “Yes…”I’d love to slide my cock into him, but I’m not sure he wants that.As if he’s heard my thoughts, he turns his face up to me, and I stroke his cheek. “Make love to me,” he whispers.Fuck. Rob’s never this soft. It nearly makes me cry.I work his ass open, so he’ll be able to take my girth. Kissing his soft lips, and inhaling his male smell. I’m squirting precum—my cock’s slick with it.I open the bedside drawer to grab a condom and lube. His feet kick when I add more lube inside his hole. Deep moans as I widen him. My cock’s thick—not that long, but it’ll fill him hard. When I nudge my cockhead in, his back springboards. I tap his ass and push in another inch of my dick. I like watching my wood enter him, penetrating my man.His hands are in fists, but he’s whimpering with pleasure now.When I finally push into him all the way, I’m ready to come. He’s so tight, gripping me hard. My balls are slammed into his ass. I make love to him slowly until he groans. “Faster.”I push him up onto his hands and knees to pump him deeply. His face drops onto the pillow, and one hand comes back to massage my nuts. I cry out, trying to keep it down, not wake anyone, but it’s agony. My orgasm rips through me. “Love you,” I rasp out, pumping his cock hard while he grips his balls, shooting cream all over my hand.I clasp his chest; my sticky hand smears cum on his body. I pull out of him and burrow under his arms, on my back, letting the sexy spunk cover us. We kiss and mouth each other. Rubbing noses, stroking hot skin. Jesus, fuck, this is good. His weight settles into me, and I scissor him with my legs. He strokes my hair back from my face, his eyes on mine.“Do you know, I think you’re beautiful,” he says quietly.I shake my head. “I’m not.”“Yeah, you are. You just don’t see what I see.” He kisses my nose.“I fuck up.”“Yeah, sometimes, but so do I. Everyone does.”

✿  ✿  ✿  ✿ ⊱╮ Hawaiian Orchid ╭⊰ ✿  ✿  ✿  ✿

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.

Hawaiian Orchid by Meg Amor

Edited by Heather Hollis

Cover Art by Syneca Featherstone

Published by Loose Id, LLC

www.troikaromance.com

Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/pkg5vks

Loose Id: http://tinyurl.com/nuklqoy

All Romance Books ARe: http://tinyurl.com/qfn6245

Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/qaltpgz

Barnes and Noble: http://tinyurl.com/phg6qey

 Aloha everyone :) This was a wonderful promo and competition I got to participate in. We all had to write a short story about this picture for the winter edition of ManLove Fantasies. And I hadn't written for a while but I loved doing this. It was really fun. So have a wee read and all the stories are over at manlovefantasies.blogspot.com :) Aloha Meg :) 





WINTER IN PARADISEDespite growing up in the tropics, I can’t get used to winter in Hawai’i. I’d come out from the cold, hard winters of Michigan where we didn’t see sunlight or even blue skies for weeks on end. But here on the Big Island of Hawai’i, it feels like an affront to my senses. Every day I wake up to sultry warm air, and birds chirping. The summer scents of ripe tropical fruit permeate the air, and the impossibly aqua blue water of my pool and the ocean is just outside my bedroom slider that opens onto a private lanai.It’s paradise but I’m still wallowing in the “winter of my discontent.” I’m not ready to “hang loose” and go “native.” Aloha shirts and slippahs. Partly because my ability to relax has gone the way of the dinosaur. I can’t unwind, and take little pleasure in things that once had my attention. Yes, I’m burned out, slightly cynical, and tired. God, I’m tired.I stand out on the lanai in my boxers and survey my new kingdom. The sweet but subtle rich, velvety perfume of plumeria trees in hot and soft pinks, pure whites, and golden yellows cloak my nostrils. They look so silky, I want to reach out and pluck one, nibble on its delicate flesh. I laugh at my fanciful mind, making up childish images. The islands of my youth, a place I’d played as a carefree kid, but that kid is long gone.I walk back inside and open my closet to grab something for work. A multitude of black on black, and discreet classical navy shades with the odd tiny white thread running through them invade my closet—suits. I can’t get out of the habit, and I’m not sure I want to. I like looking and feeling professional in my job. It’s a point of pride for me. I’ve worked too long and hard to get where I am. Maybe too hard.I don a subtle lightweight charcoal one and pick an attractive flame colored tie with subtle flecks of yellow and reds in it. Against the black suit, it looks like a long tongue of lava—Madam Pele’s hair flowing down my chest. I look good.I run my hand over my shaved head and wonder if I’ll ever grow it back. There aren’t any visible scars to cover up but I still feel exposed to the world. And I still look pale and non-Polynesian, even to myself. I need a tan, something to make me look healthy on the outside at least.Turning away from my image, I grab badge and cuffs, adjust my shoulder holster and slide into my suit jacket. All set for another day in paradise.We’re investigating a series of break-ins. Expensive homes occasionally visited by off islanders. Ripe for the plucking in a way. Today, I’m checking on properties that are isolated to see if anything looks disturbed or out of the ordinary.****When I round the corner of the monster house with an unimpeded view of Maui across the channel, I’m surprised to find someone swimming in the pool.I hold up my badge. “Detective Marques Tuisamoa. Are you the owner of the house?”“No, why?” he asks.“Friend of the family, relative of some kind?”He shakes his head, regarding me with some amusement. “Why are you wearing a suit?”“I'm Samoan. It's part of our religion.”He laughs, his green eyes twinkling, a wild mouth shows expensive American dentistry and a sexy pink tongue caught between them.I’m trying hard not to smile, surprised I managed to make a joke, dry as it was—and he got it.“It's too hot to be wearing a tie. You should at least take that off.” Another puzzled look as if I’m defying logic.The truth is, I am hot. But I also don't like to expose parts of my body to public scrutiny. It makes me uncomfortable. A bullet with flying shrapnel had made a mess of my collarbone and part of my neck. I’m aware of not having the body beautiful in some of the clubs I like to frequent. I have calves the size of ham hocks like a lot of Samoans but my chest is a mess. I’m ashamed. I don't want to let it affect my masculinity but sometimes I feel less than. “What’s your name and address?”“Duke and around.”I sigh heavily.“Full name, full address.”“Edward Duke Kukeakalani Dole. Hawaiian Coastal Beach Access, Big Island, Hawai’i.”I purse my lips at his smart-ass answer. He doesn’t look like he has Hawaiian ancestry but I bet he’s a local, not kama’aina with that last name. Hapa perhaps, half Hawaiian, half haole. And possibly homeless. A good candidate for the break-ins. He’s probably camped around here somewhere.But when I question him further, I don’t get the feeling he’s behind them. You get a feel for people over the years and this one just doesn’t strike me as a criminal of any kind. Other than the odd skinny dip in someone else’s pool. He’s young, early twenties maybe. Short hair with a striking tinge of red in it and dark eyebrows.He pulls himself out of the pool, and I do my best to maintain my cop face. It's hard to, though, with what he barely has on. A pair of neon green bikinis mold over an impressive coil of cock and meaty plump balls. They're dragging his swimwear down slightly and dark pubic hair is tantalizingly displayed at the waistband. I feel myself responding and shove my hands in my pockets to tent my pants out and do some swift rearranging if need be.There's a slight gape of fabric at his thigh, and my eyes are glued to it.“You can't swim in here. It's private property.”“Says who? There's no fence. It's not harming anything. No one uses it.”For a moment I'm lost for words. He seems so sure of the logic of these statements.“You should wear a lava-lava suit. Let your balls breathe,” he says like he’s been considering this for a while.My brain busily dances around these images, and I imagine wearing a traditional formal pinstripe lava-lava sarong with an impressive erection tenting the fabric.He adjusts his bikini, swiping his hand over his tasty looking package, and I want it to be my hand. My mouth. Duke grabs a nearby towel and dries himself quickly and efficiently, lingering slightly over his crotch. Rubbing his cock and balls with the towel, making them jiggle in the skimpy costume.I breathe in sharply and resist the urge to lick my lips.Like his namesake, Duke Kahanamoku, he has a powerful swimmers body. Heavily muscled shoulders. A solid, defined chest above ribs that look like they’ve been damaged at some point. I wonder how he can be okay with showing that in public. Belatedly, I wonder if it's why he chooses to swim in private pools. Away from prying eyes.Intelligent green eyes regard me. Waiting to see what I'll do next.“Well, you can’t just go around swimming in people’s pools that don’t belong to you,” I say, hoping to sound stern and authoritative.“Why?” He’s toweling his head now. Then he drops the towel and adjusts his swimsuit. Cupping his balls, hefting the weight of them in his hand, snapping the waistband of his bikinis as they cover the pubic hair.My mouth jets with saliva, balls tingling and already aching. I’m grateful for theform-fitting pair of boxers I put on this morning.I can’t answer his question. “Just don’t do it again, there’s a whole free ocean there.” I point to the turquoise water gently rolling onto the golden sand beach. Then gruffly stomp off back to my truck, turning up the AC as far as it will go and spreading my thighs, palming my cock. The intense throb and need sends spikes of desire thrumming down my thighs.Punk kid.****I keep running into Duke on the island. It’s not that big, so this isn’t that surprising but he’s got a knack of being around. I start to wonder again whether I have him pegged wrong. There’s a vulnerability under the casual, hang loose, da kine attitude. But I still don’t like him for the break-ins. The jobs are too professional; they know what they’re targeting.We always have a funny conversation, and he always wants to get me out of my clothes but not in the way I’ve fantasized about.“That’s a nice tie, I haven’t seen that one,” he comments as I once again catch him swimming laps in a borrowed pool.I’ve given up telling him off because he’s rubbing off on me, and even I’m starting to wonder what the harm is. I must be finally relaxing; I realize with a start. I’m slowly defrosting from my painful past on the Mainland.Besides it’s good security to have someone around these places occasionally. Give it a sense of someone living there. I notice he often does small jobs around the place, and in the end I co-opt him into keeping an eye out for me. He’s been giving me bits and pieces of information he’s noticing on his travels and some of the intel is checking out. We’ll get these cocky bastards soon.“Call me,” I tell him.“Don’t have a phone.”I end up buying him a cheap throwaway one with some minutes on it and slip him a twenty here and there as a look out fee.Every time I see him, he has on a different swimsuit. I thought he was probably boosting them but I didn’t have the heart to talk to him about it. Later, I realize he’s borrowing guest bikinis, which he seems to prefer, from unlocked pool cabanas. It’s Hawai’i. People aren’t always fanatical about locking everything up. I’m finally getting used to the casualness here but I’m no further ahead in this investigation, and it’s frustrating me.I often pick up a couple of plate lunches or bento boxes in the hope of finding him somewhere. I’m seeking him out more and he seems in tune with my schedule too.We now have long conversations about personal things I’ve never talked to anyone else about. There’s an anonymity in it, a safe feeling. Two lost men, nursing some serious wounds and confessing to all our inadequacies and guilt.He is homeless, kicked out for being gay, but still wants to try and make the Olympic swim team one day. The rib marks are past abuse and my stomach curls in horror for him. I gingerly show him my chest and he traces his fingers over it, examining, commenting, not letting me put my tie back on that day.“Warrior scars. We all have scars, some are just more visible than others,” he says.I clasp his hands between my thighs as I sit on the edge of the pool with my suit pants legs rolled up. We sit in companionable silence and eventually he rests his forehead on our hands, kicking gently in the clear blue pool water. I release one hand to gently stroke the back of his head and eventually shrug out of my hot black jacket.****I’m lulled into peace and feeling good with the intimacy when there’s an excited call over the radio.“Damn.”We smile at each other, and he pushes off the wall to start swimming laps again.I slide into my shoes, no socks, and take off at a fast clip, heading for my vehicle and a property a couple of miles away. I arrive in the middle of it, adrenaline pumping, gun drawn, but it doesn’t take us long to round everyone up. Surprisingly no shots fired. Welcome to the islands. Three guys from O’ahu—all with some serious form.****After we process them and get them situated in their new home for the night, I’m hot, aggravated, and tired. I’m glad to see the back of the little bastards.The captain assigns us to a new case each, and I realize with a pang that I won’t be in the area to see Duke as much.“You want to go for a surf?” asks my partner, who’s finally arrived back at the station from his training course.“Sorry, man, got something to do, but another time.”“No worries, yeah,” says Kukio. He gives me the shaka, his thumb and little finger jiggling as he ambles off.****I drive a little too fast for the island, where the tourists are easy to spot because they speed. Whereas the locals just cruise, often under the speed limit, taking their time, relaxed and laid back. I’m finally starting to do it myself.But not now. I’m on a mission.When I pull up to the property, I sit for a moment, hoping I have this right.He’s swimming laps, his powerful, wiry body, cutting through the blueness. I lean down and put my hand in the water on the wall as he does a turn. He pushes off but stops, floating on his back, clearly pleased to see me.“We got them.” I sit down on my ass by the edge of the pool. Legs akimbo, black regulation shoes lined up with the tile edge.“You look like you need to cool off, get out of that hot suit.” He hooks his finger at me, an invitation. He’s wearing cute little black bikinis today with a pinky trim.I hesitate and he swims toward me. He reaches up, grabs my legs, then my tie, and pulls me into the water.The first kiss is hot and searing. My hands automatically reach for his sexy ass, sliding my big hands beneath the skimpy fabric onto his rounded cheeks as I hoist him onto my hips. His lips are damp and salty from the pool water, they pull mine slowly, then his hot pink tongue searches for mine.Duke groans softly, nibbling my earlobe, shuddery lips pulling the soft skin, sending spikes of intense need into my groin. He rubs his crotch against my wet shirt, his cock already thick and curving up toward his stomach. I pull back to admire him and he loosens my tie enough to drag it over my head. His nimble fingers undo my buttons, pushing the suit jacket off my shoulders, letting it float away and sink into the pool.He points, and I frown.Oh! I wade across the pool to set him on the edge and carefully lay my service weapon on the side with my holster.Quick fingers unbutton my shirt and it’s flung behind us into the pool.“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, tracing his tongue over my scars, seizing a brown nipple. Flicking and tugging the nub until it’s hard and erect, so sensitive, it’s sending tendrils of intense need to my cock.He’s sexy as hell, his cockhead defiant and proud above the waistband of the tiny bikinis. I squeeze his length through the wet fabric and he arches his back, lifting his ass, allowing me to slide them down. It exposes shaved plump balls that beg to be sucked and fondled.Spreading his muscled thighs, I pull him closely for my first taste, running my tongue down his long slender length. Swirling his balls, lifting his thighs with my hands so I can lick all the way to his asshole. My tongue pushes at the tight sensitive pucker, and he cries out with pleasure.Sucking and licking, his hands grip my shoulders, soft moans and impressive guttural sounds when I slide a mouth-lubed finger into his ass. “Yes, yes,” he whispers.I heave myself out of pool and strip down for him. He lies back wantonly on the warm tile, thighs spread, his hands pulling his stiff dick and fondling his high, tight balls, trailing his fingers down to his sensitive hole and pushing a finger in. Fucking himself for me, inviting me in.I’m shaking so badly; I can barely undo my zipper. When I finally pop out of my sodden suit pants and wet boxers, he stills and squeezes his cock, lips trembling.“Want you so badly,” I mumble, as I sink to my knees between his thighs.“Yes.” he agrees and sits up to heft my balls in his hand, then sinks his hot mouth over my knob.I push into his throat, whimpering with desire.When’s he’s sucked and jacked my dick until I can barely kneel anymore, he pushes me over onto my back and crawls over to his backpack. His cock and balls swing beautifully in the encroaching sunset and he returns with lube and a condom.He sits on my chest, facing away from me, and I nuzzle his sexy ass, licking the delicate asshole as he cries out with lust. I run long laps of my tongue from his pucker to his balls until neither of can stand it any longer. Lubing my finger, I push his pucker apart and squirt the silky fluid inside and he shudders deeply. Pulling his thighs apart farther, I shimmy him back and drop his smooth balls into my mouth, one by one, rolling them, sucking the skin through my teeth gently.He sinks down onto my face, the male smell of him overriding the salty pool water now, and my dick is like granite. When he stops sucking my cock and slides the condom over it, lubing and jacking me, I nearly come on the spot. He turns himself around, and I hold his hips as he lowers himself over my aching hard-on, that’s begging for an ass to slip into.“Fuck, your cock’s big,” he moans, grinning like crazy, sinking himself onto it inch by inch, pulling away, coming back for more, until he finally lets himself be filled by my shaft, balls deep.He curls down onto my chest and tenderly kisses me. I rub his back and sweet ass cheeks, letting him ride me at his own pace. Licking his neck, watching him tremble, matching my shudders of need. Slow, hot kisses, tongues entwined, skin to skin, sensuous love making like I haven’t had in a long time.His ass clamps, squeezing my cock and fire shoots down my thighs, my ass throbbing with the intense ache. Both of us moaning, the sounds drifting off into the dusky, heated air.My hand is wrapped around his length, twisting and twirling the satiny head as it pushes up through my fist, the red tip urging me on. I push up into his ass and he cries out as he explodes, long white filaments shooting over my hand and our stomachs. Guttural sounds of deep need emit from us as I’m also pushed over the edge, feeling the sweet release into this sweet man.Both panting hard, his damp head flops onto my chest, and I nuzzle his hair, wrapping him in my arms, enjoying the connection. Enjoying him.When we finally come up for air, he points at my suit jacket and shoes at the bottom of the pool. “Don’t think you’ll be wearing those again.”I laugh and laugh. A sound that breaks up the last hard pieces of defense in my chest.Yes, it’s about time I trusted again and slipped back into my island roots where my inner self gets to exhale every day.“Want to come and help clean out my wardrobe. Make some room in there for your sexy little bikinis.”He stills, his eyes wide, questioning.“There’s a pool that’s just right for you. I don’t like you living down here on the beach. It worries me. I want to know you’re safe in my arms at night.” I pause…“I think I’m in love with you…” I wait, worried I’ve given too much away, making myself too vulnerable.But he smiles and says softly, “I love you too. I have for a while.” We stroke each other’s faces tenderly, eyes locked. I close mine as intense relaxation soaks into my soul.“I’m only coming on one condition, though,” he whispers in my ear.“Name it.”“On 
HAWAIIAN ORCHID available now!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.

Hawaiian Orchid by Meg AmorEdited by Heather HollisCover Art by Syneca FeatherstonePublished by Loose Id, LLCwww.troikaromance.comAmazon: http://tinyurl.com/pkg5vksLoose Id: http://tinyurl.com/nuklqoyAll Romance Books ARe: http://tinyurl.com/qfn6245Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/qaltpgzBarnes and Noble: http://tinyurl.com/phg6qey

Kulani Out in the living room, I get a fright to see Rob leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed.“What do you want?” I snarl. Just fuck off, Rob.“You,” he says, and Danny’s head swivels around. The twins stop cutting up the sandwiches.I lick my lips. I don’t like being put on the spot like this.Kaleho opens the screen door and steps inside. He touches Zane’s arm, and Zane takes the headphones off, standing behind Kaleho, clutching his shirt. His eyes big and wide, scared.I turn to Zane so he can see my lips moving. “It’s okay,” I say, as smoothly as possible, though my heart is jackknifing, thumping hard. “It’s okay,” I say to everyone again. “This is Rob.”Danny fist bumps him. The twins say “hi” in unison, then pile up their sandwiches on a plate and rush out the door to their ohana unit, leaving everyone else’s food scattered on the counter. I’m pissed off at Rob for intruding on my space. I divide up the sandwiches and put them on plates. Rob doesn’t move, and I’m trying to calm myself. The panic edges up into my throat. I rip off paper towels for everyone and pour glasses of milk.“Come and get the sandwiches,” I tell them.Danny piles everything on a tray and shuffles the other boys outside onto the lanai.Rob has a million questions on his face.“Do you want a sandwich?” I ask him. God knows why.“No. I’m…I’m good,” he says. He rubs his nose, looking pained.I realize he isn’t going anywhere.Taking in a deep breath, I say, “Come down to my bedroom.”He pushes off the counter and follows me. I shut the door and stare at him. He looks out of place. His elegant self in my flop house.I indicate the bed, and he slowly sinks down. His knees come up around his chest on my soft bed, which sits on the floor.I’m embarrassed when I look around. It looks like a teenage boy lives here. Surfboards lean against the wall, surf shit everywhere, clothes, my office stuff wedged in the corner. You can’t even see my desktop. The rest of the house isn’t any better. Half the kitchen doors are missing. I’m working on it slowly. The whole kitchen needs to be ripped out and refitted. Beau and I are going to do it. We just haven’t made time. It looks like shit. I’m seeing it all through his eyes, and it’s not an attractive picture.“You flat with all these guys? Room with them?” he asks.“Sorta, yeah.” I feel itchy.“They’re kids.”I nod.“You rent this place together?” Rob’s clearly puzzled.“No.” I know I’m being awkward, but I can barely talk. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in. I’m fighting for breath.I see the concern on his face, but everything’s coming down a tunnel at me. Oh shit, fu—* * * *When I come to, he’s bathing my face with a cold washcloth. One hand on my wrist takes my pulse while Danny holds his phone, showing Rob the face.“Let’s get him on the bed,” Rob says.“He fain sometimes, when things too untens. Random,” says Zane, his voice high-pitched and frightened. He can’t hear himself with his hearing loss.Oh fuck, just go, Rob. Enough humiliation for one day.They lift me onto the bed. I feel helpless and woozy. He strokes my hair back off my face. The gentleness makes me want to cry.Kaleho hands him some water. Rob’s arm pulls me up slightly so I can sip it. I feel like a weak baby. Everyone’s faces are worried. I don’t want the kids to be upset.“I’m okay. I just got a bit overwhelmed. Rob’s a good person. Danny.”He nods and ushers Zane and Kaleho out, shutting the door.God, I’m exhausted. I haven’t had one of these attacks for months. They leave me wiped out. Fuck it. Another fucked-up thing to add to my list of faults.“Go,” I say to Rob.“I don’t think so.”“I’m okay.” I feel like I’m slurring.He sits, eyeing me up, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Probably that I need to be sectioned.He stands up, and I figure he’s going, but instead he undresses himself and then me. Rolling me under the sheet, he slides in next to me. He pulls my body into his, spooning me into his groin.“I want you to sleep. I love you. I’m right here. You’re safe. It’s all going to be okay. I’m not leaving you,” he whispers tenderly.My throat instantly closes up, and fat tears track down my face. I squeeze his hand, and he murmurs, “I know.”* * * *I wake thinking I’m alone, but he’s only in the bathroom. When he comes back, he slides against my ass again. The comfort of his warm skin on my back, his pubes and cock against my ass, drops me back into sleep.When I’m awake again, the sun’s on its way up. He’s lying on his back now, dead to the world. I remember last night and cringe. But I also realize—he’s still here.I lie with my head on my elbow, noting all the contours of his face and chest. He has sexy shoulders. Then I remember him saying I love you. He said it several times. Maybe that was just to comfort me. But I don’t think Rob would do that. He’s too straightforward. I want it to be real. I probably have it wrong. Fuck, my head’s messed up.I slide out of bed and check on the boys. Zane and Kaleho are cuddled together in their bed. Danny’s asleep in his room. The twins will be okay; they weren’t here when it was all going down.I switch the coffeemaker on. Cursing at whoever didn’t fill the dispenser or do the filter. I switch it off and start from scratch. While it’s gurgling and doing its thing, I check on what supplies we need. Fuck, how many sandwiches did they eat yesterday? The three fresh loaves of bread are all gone, and there’s none in the freezer. God, they can eat. Teenagers. Christ.I grab a pen and find the grocery list. At least they’ve remembered to write down what we need. It’s Zane and Kaleho’s turn to come with me for groceries after school. I make them take turns so they get used to things like this. We need toilet paper, water, condoms, and bulk stuff.I come back to the fact that Rob said he loved me—several times. Maybe I don’t have it wrong.I want to say it back, but I’m too scared.One time, I said it to my mom, and she’d rolled her eyes at me. Shoving that thought aside, I grab a coffee cup. When I’ve ladled in the sugar and cream, I go back to check on Rob. He’s still asleep. I look around my room, wondering if there’s any damage control I can do before he wakes up. Not really. I give up and slide back into bed with him.When he finally wakes up, he reaches for me, cupping my cock and licking my lips.“Coffee and cock—it’s a nice way to wake up.” He smiles. It makes me laugh.“Do you want a coffee?” I ask.“God, yes, please. I’ll use your toilet, and is it okay if I use your toothbrush? Wine always leaves me feeling furry.”I laugh and nod. He kisses me and sits up, scratching his head and balls. I reach down and nip his ass. He grabs me around the neck, planting a kiss on my head.When he stands up, I appreciate the view as he walks to the bathroom. Nice ass on him, strong legs.I grab him a coffee and a fresh one for myself. I’m calmer now. My brain’s not so fuzzy and fucked-up.He comes out of the bathroom and slides back into bed with me. “Thanks, babe. God, that smells good. Pure Kona. Yum.”I let him take a couple of sips, not sure where to start.“I’m sorry I fucked up last night,” I blurt out.“It’s okay. We have to talk about some things, though. I’m not going anywhere, all right?”I suck in air, and his hand rests on my chest.“You’re safe. I would never want to hurt you.”I put my hand over his and take some deep breaths, like I’ve been taught to calm myself. His finger grabs my thumb, and he nods in time with my breathing.“How often do you faint? Is it from a panic attack?”“Yeah. Um, just, you know…sometimes.”“Weekly, monthly, every few months?”“It depends on what’s going on. How stressed I get.” I shrug.“Okay. Do you know it’s coming?”“Yeah, mostly. I know I’m getting wound up.”He nods, his warm eyes showing me only concern. I’m trying to breathe into this. Telling myself he’s still here, he didn’t leave me. He kissed me this morning, and he’s got his hand on my chest. He said nice things before.“I can probably help you with those, if you’d like to let me try,” he says gently.I shut my eyes in embarrassment. I hate them. How can this man keep on loving me when I’m this fucking broken? “How can you say you love me when I’m so fucked?” I burst out.He sighs heavily. “Kulani, I find you beautiful in so many ways. You’ve got a special soul that’s captured me. I know things are hard for you sometimes, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”“I fuck up. I say the wrong things. It’s messed up.” Like now. He’s just told me nice things, and I’m mouthing off at him.He smiles.“I don’t mean to be rude all the time.”“I know.” He strokes my face, love in his eyes for me.“Why are you doing this with me? You can go out with anyone. You’re gorgeous and together. I’m just a fucked-up islander.”“Kulani, you’re so stunning. You have no idea. Why do you want to be with me? I’m an old man. You can get some young, studly guy.”He’s kidding, right?“I don’t get on very well with young guys. I like older men.”“I have gray in my hair.” He points to his temples. “I have gray in my pubes.” He searches for one to show me, and I laugh.“So. What do I care?”“I’ve got lines on my face.” He grimaces.“Yeah, I like them. Sexy.”He laughs. “What do you mean you don’t get on with younger guys? You’ve got a household of them. And actually, they’re really young?” His look is questioning.“They’re just kids who need a break, you know.”“Are they all gay?”I nod. I see the realization sweep over his face, and he shuts his eyes, biting his lip.“Are they all homeless?”I nod, wondering what he’s going to say.“Jesus, Kulani.” He runs his hand through his hair, making it spike up. I love that look. Then he grabs the back of his neck, like he’s trying to squeeze some tension out. I’m not so crazy on that look.He swallows hard. “You’re a good man.” His voice catches.“I just do what I can.”“You feed them all? Look after them?”I nod.“Tell me about them, please.”“The twins are fifteen. Haru and Kisho. Lived with mom—she’s a druggie, got a new boyfriend. Thought they’d be nice, fresh young meat for him.”Rob’s mouth opens in a silent gasp, and I nod.“Danny got thrown out when he came out. He’s seventeen. Good waterman. He was living on the beach.”“Wow,” says Rob, taking it all in.“Zane and Kaleho have been best friends since they were little keiki. They’re sixteen, nearly seventeen. Kaleho’s really good at school. He should get a scholarship. Zane has a harder time—he’s quite deaf and has been bullied. Kaleho’s dad threw him out when he found him cuddled up with Zane one night. They weren’t doing anything, but his dad threw a shit fit.”Rob’s lips press together in anger.“When Zane’s dad found out, he did his nut as well, and they were either forced to not see each other or suffer the consequences. They ran away, stole some things from me. We sorted it out. I’ve tried to talk to their fathers, but no one’s budging. One of them is really religious, and you don’t want to hear what he has to say. The other one’s just stupid. All Hawaiian he-man. ‘My son’s not gay; he’s been corrupted by that little faggot, retard kid, Zane.’ You know, the usual shit.”“Bloody Nora,” says Rob.“Yeah.”“Who owns this house?”“I do. My grandfather left it to me. It’s not great, but it’s okay for everyone. Needs some work, as you can see, yeah?” I grimace slightly.“Just cosmetic stuff. Nothing major. It has good bones, fabulous view.”I smile. He’s right. It does. My bed looks out on the lanai and down to Kona harbor.“You’re a good man, Kulani Mahikoa.”I screw up my face and shake my head at him.“Yes, you are. You’re very loving and caring. You have a big heart.”“I’m fucking broken.”“No. You have some pieces that might need a bit of duct tape and tender loving care. But you, the person, are not broken.”I frown. “How can you love me when you saw what I did last night?” I’m holding my breath, waiting for Rob to deny it, roll his eyes at me or something.“Despite being a bolshie wee shit, you’re actually pretty easy to love.” He reaches for me, and I put both our coffee cups down. I want to cave, just give in to him, feel safe and loved…Rob strokes my cheeks, his eyes never leaving my face. My cock’s already stretching, reaching for him. His lips pull my mouth, and I groan. Damn, he’s a sexy man. We fondle each other’s cocks and balls. I love his shaft in my mouth. Sucking his dick sends me off the charts sometimes. I push him onto his back and run my tongue down into the hollow of his throat. Cupping his neck, I work my way down to his tender pink nipples. I pump his cock while I tug the delicate treats for my tongue. He’s sensitive too. He’ll jerk, and his back will spasm when I play with him. It’s a turn-on.Shit, this is arousing. He moans slowly, running his fingers through my hair, stroking my head. I like my hair being touched; it’s comforting. I lick down his stomach, dancing my tongue over his knob. “Ohhh fuck…” He sighs. I wrap my hair around his dick, using the strands to lever it into my mouth. I tie it around his cock and balls, like a present, and he laughs. “Stop teasing me,” he groans.Pushing his thighs apart, I take long, lingering licks along the soft inner part of his thigh. I cup his balls in my mouth, one by one, rolling them around, sucking them in and out. He grips my hair hard. It’s a pleasure to take him up to the edge, then roll him onto his stomach. He lets me spread his thighs as far as they’ll go and pull him slightly onto his knees, so his ass is exposed. His dick swings beneath him. I want that shoved in my ass, but I also want to rim him, make him squeal. Touch his secret hot spot.Normally we go faster than this, but today I want to explore the territory of his body, open him up.I lap him from his ball sac to his pucker. He clenches slightly, and I tease around his rosebud with my tongue, flicking and licking. His thighs are shaking. I suck one of my fingers, wetting it to slowly penetrate him. He gasps sharply, and I add more natural lube with my tongue. I still my finger, then slowly vibrate it until he pushes back onto me, and I can enter him farther. He’s shuddering, his breath shaky, but I want to hit his hot spot. I push his spine down and lick along his backbone. He’s panting, pressing back into me, letting me probe him more. When I slide in another finger, he fists the pillows.I hit the prostate, and he squeals into the pillow. Now he’ll let me fuck him with my fingers. I nuzzle his face and suck his ears.He’s groaning, “Yes…”I’d love to slide my cock into him, but I’m not sure he wants that.As if he’s heard my thoughts, he turns his face up to me, and I stroke his cheek. “Make love to me,” he whispers.Fuck. Rob’s never this soft. It nearly makes me cry.I work his ass open, so he’ll be able to take my girth. Kissing his soft lips, and inhaling his male smell. I’m squirting precum—my cock’s slick with it.I open the bedside drawer to grab a condom and lube. His feet kick when I add more lube inside his hole. Deep moans as I widen him. My cock’s thick—not that long, but it’ll fill him hard. When I nudge my cockhead in, his back springboards. I tap his ass and push in another inch of my dick. I like watching my wood enter him, penetrating my man.His hands are in fists, but he’s whimpering with pleasure now.When I finally push into him all the way, I’m ready to come. He’s so tight, gripping me hard. My balls are slammed into his ass. I make love to him slowly until he groans. “Faster.”I push him up onto his hands and knees to pump him deeply. His face drops onto the pillow, and one hand comes back to massage my nuts. I cry out, trying to keep it down, not wake anyone, but it’s agony. My orgasm rips through me. “Love you,” I rasp out, pumping his cock hard while he grips his balls, shooting cream all over my hand.I clasp his chest; my sticky hand smears cum on his body. I pull out of him and burrow under his arms, on my back, letting the sexy spunk cover us. We kiss and mouth each other. Rubbing noses, stroking hot skin. Jesus, fuck, this is good. His weight settles into me, and I scissor him with my legs. He strokes my hair back from my face, his eyes on mine.“Do you know, I think you’re beautiful,” he says quietly.I shake my head. “I’m not.”“Yeah, you are. You just don’t see what I see.” He kisses my nose.“I fuck up.”“Yeah, sometimes, but so do I. Everyone does.”



✿  ✿  ✿  ✿ ⊱╮ Hawaiian Orchid ╭⊰ ✿  ✿  ✿  ✿

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.
Hawaiian Orchid by Meg Amor Edited by Heather HollisCover Art by Syneca Featherstone Published by Loose Id, LLC
www.troikaromance.com
Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/pkg5vks
Loose Id: http://tinyurl.com/nuklqoy
All Romance Books ARe: http://tinyurl.com/qfn6245
Kobo: http://tinyurl.com/qaltpgz
Barnes and Noble: http://tinyurl.com/phg6qey

DAMN, THAT’S HOT EROTICA 4 FEATURED AUTHOR — MEG AMORThanks to John Tucker for organizing this event and asking such damn good questions! :)StandardWe’re gearing up for the Damn, That’s Hot Erotica 4 event on Facebook from January 11th to the 17thwith this series of Provocative Interviews with every participating author. In these blog posts you’ll learn about the writers, their naughty offerings, and read their responses to offbeat questions that display their wit, outrageousness, and the sexy imagination that befits a person who deals with the steamier side of Literature.Come and Join Us —https://www.facebook.com/events/826602524132674/Today’s Featured Author — Meg Amor !!!THE BIOMeg Amor is a multi-published contemporary author and has always believed in love and romance. She writes deep, sensual, romance stories about heartfelt connections and deep soul relationships. Meg feels that passionate sex, as well as her characters inner workings–their vulnerabilities, emotions, and thoughts–are what make a love story exciting and real. She loves to write sensual, erotic romance, with committed poly, and gay male/male relationships.Meg hand-wrote and “published” her first book when she was eleven about her parent’s separation. Constantly told as a child she had a vivid and (over) active imagination, the dawn of the computer era meant she could now take dictation at speed from the interesting characters galloping around her head.She grew up in New Zealand, and temporarily lives in California with her American fur children: Leo Ray Jr., and Mr. Beaumont, the Ginger Ninjas. Her heart and soul are split between her American home state of Hawai’i in Kona on the Big Island, and the sultry, steamy Southern city of New Orleans. Nearly all her books are set in Hawai’i or New Orleans, along with snatches of New Zealand for good luck.Meg’s a gypsy at heart and loves to travel all over the world. She has a love of open cockpit biplanes and the gentle waft into the air from a grass strip. Given a choice, she’d eat out most nights. Fine dining, French, Fusion, Afghani, and Burmese food are some of her all-time favorites. But her favorite junk food is New Zealand fish and chips cooked in pure fat. Never one to do things by halves, she believes in the motto “Amor Vincet Omnia”–Love Conquers All.THE Q & AWhich one of your fictional characters would you like to do the nasty with?MA — Um, all of them.  :-D  But in particular, Henry and Charlie from Henry and Isolde. If I could roll those men into one body, it would be perfect. Or maybe I’d just like both of them. There’s a reason I wrote m/m/f, after all. Although, I have to admit, I haven’t explored that one too deeply within my own psyche. LOL. Henry is slow and smoldering. Charlie has a raw sexuality which oozes off the page. I want both.Who’s your most exciting character and who would play them in the movie?MA — I think Charlie is, in Henry and Isolde. He’s got serious raunchiness and sensuality to him. His personality is larger than life. I can see Benjamin Bratt as my Charlie.  Next up, Danny Lucerno Jr. in Hawaiian Orchid. Willy Cartier the incredibly sensuous, sexy, sultry French/Vietnamese/Senegalese model and artist is Danny to a T. Smoldering!! Good lord, that man…Which Naughty Historical/Literary Person/Character would you most like to have dinner with?MA — I think Oscar Wilde. He was one of the great eccentrics who I always admire enormously. He once walked a lobster down the street on a leash. I mean… you can’t make that stuff up. He was wildly free in many ways and that is hugely appealing to me. Also James Baldwin, who was a very sensuous man and saw our sexuality as very fluid. He had the most incredible brain on him and was a deep and thoughtful thinker, emotionally very intelligent and that’s so rare but so sexy and sensuous.A great erotica novel must have what three things?MA — Deep sensuality and smoldering heat. Vulnerability and emotions that are shared and exposed between the characters. And um, not sure on the third one. But a good story line goes without saying. I like all aspects of a romance. I want to see not just the good sex between them but the emotions and story that are part of their life and relationship.Who’s Your Favorite Porn Star and Why?MA — I call him Javonne but I think I have the name wrong. LOL. He’s a gay porn star and he always looks like he’s having a good time. That’s why he appeals to me so much. He genuinely looks like he’s enjoying himself, giggling and smiling, talking softly. Whereas the majority of actors always look like they’re doing their grocery list in their minds. Or they’re at a coffee morning. :-)  It’s not sensuous or steamy. It’s just boring.What genre of erotica are you most hesitant to write about and why?MA — BDSM. Because I don’t enjoy it personally and it’s very hard for me to write about something that doesn’t interest me. I also know from a good friend who’s into the scene that it has many psychological layers to it and I’m not sure I’d get it right.What is the least favorite word you’ve seen in Erotica and why?MA — My choice would be Cunt. It’s possibly cultural for me because I’m a New Zealander. But that word is not a sexy word in my country. It’s the mother of all swear words. And I have to be at flashpoint to use it. I’d never use it to describe female genitalia. It’s offensive to women and derogatory. It’s ugly.What couple gets your vote for having the sexiest love scene in a movie and why?MA — The shower scene in How Stella Got Her Groove Back. It was slow and sensuous. I could feel the heat from them and the passion. It was gorgeous.Where is one place you would never consider having sex at and why?MA — Er, not sure there’s really anywhere I’d say no to. Maybe an abattoir but you wouldn’t get me in one to start with, so might be redundant. The thought of what went on there and the smell would turn me off in a heartbeat. Otherwise, all bets are off on places.On an average day you would most likely be wearing cotton panties, a thong, or going commando?MA — Black lace or sheer panties, or nothing.THE BOOKSHAWAIIAN LEIBeau Toyama, a “mixed plate” Hawaiian/Japanese/Tahitian man, is a flight instructor on the Big Island of Hawai’i. He’s a lovely, gentle, shy soul from a dysfunctional island. One day his wife Mikey said, “I love you, babe, but this isn’t working. I need a good man…” She’d paused. “And so do you.”Matt Quintal, a New Zealand painter with a Norfolk Island and Maori background, has been living the “gay scene” in LA and knows it’s a crock. Needing to escape, his Polynesian soul is drawn back to the Pacific. He visits his sister Rach in Kona on the Big Island, where his spirit connects.When Matt’s heart is drawn to the sound of a biplane’s radial engines flying overhead, his life is about to change. There’s an instant soul connection and heat between Beau and Matt. Unbeknownst to them, the spirit of Beau’s mom, Tehani, has guided Matt home to Beau.Beau and Matt need to work together to overcome family dysfunction and abuse. Can they reveal their deep emotional vulnerabilities to find redemption and healing? What they both want is a loving relationship. But they must allow their hearts and souls to open before they can love and trust again.http://www.amazon.com/Hawaiian-Lei-Hawaiians-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00UUL7V1A/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8HAWAIIAN ORCHIDKulani 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 Leiand 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.http://www.amazon.com/Hawaiian-Orchid-Hawaiians-Book-2-ebook/dp/B015G3F1N6/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
HENRY AND ISOLDENew Orleans, city of soul, is home to the first of the new Troika Trilogy series ~ Henry and Isolde, a steamy, deeply sensuous love story.A coming of age romance about three friends, Charlie, Henry and Izzy who become three lovers, across three lifetimes.Henry Bovary, an older black musician and house restorer feels his life is nearing its end—until he takes on the restoration of Izzy and Brett’s big old grande dame of a house in the New Orleans Garden District. What he’s not counting on is walking in the door and falling in love with the much younger, exuberant Izzy. She touches his arm and part of him that has been missing his whole life gets plugged back into the life-force, and clicks into being. In his fantasies, he whisks her away to a life with him, crashing back to earth with the realization he’s her employee, an old man, and a black man in the South for God’s sake.Izzy Buchanan is a passionate, outspoken, New Zealander, with wild red curls to match her personality but she’s also lonely and isolated in her life. She and Brett are mates, but not much else—they’ve missed the boat emotionally and physically in their marriage. Some mysterious force draws Izzy to New Orleans, though, and the house. Despite the house being gutted and a hardware stores wet dream, she knows it’s right when she walks in the door. What she doesn’t bargain for is the instance connection to Henry when he turns up to inspect it—she feels like she knows him.Their friendship turns into a steamy, passionate relationship when Izzy seduces Henry in the secret garden he’s built for her. His life goes from fifty shades of beige to a rainbow of textures, sights and sounds, but most of all—feelings he’s allowed to have. As their love grows, and inhibitions die, Henry comes into his sexuality for the first time in his life. The deep friendship, love and breathtaking romance revitalizes Henry’s old bones. But will he be able to keep up with this achingly beautiful, younger woman? And will she leave her husband?http://www.amazon.com/Henry-Isolde-Troika-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B017RSJ5I0/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
THE LINKShttps://plus.google.com/u/0/+MegAmorRomance/postshttps://www.facebook.com/meg.amor.5https://twitter.com/amor_meghttp://www.troikaromance.com/http://www.troikaromance.blogspot.comhttp://www.amazon.com/Henry-Isolde-Troika-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B017RSJ5I0/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

REAL MEN CRY 

Aloha everyone. Lately I have been reading a lot about what men do and don’t do. The list is long and seems really inaccurate. I wonder how much these things damage men in general. And it’s making me madder than a wet hen!
Women often complain that men don’t talk about their feelings. Why the hell would they?
They’re discouraged to. If they cry, they’re weak. “Grow a set” or “be a man,” “boys don’t cry” and all that bullshit.
And it IS bullshit.
I come from a country that has one of the highest male youth suicide rates in the world, although slowly that is coming down, but it’s still high. That’s shameful and appalling. We’re known as a tough nation of men AND women.



We’re brought up to be tough, rugged, and durable. There was an ad back in the seventies by New Zealander Colin Meads, an All Black (our international rugby team who are known as warriors and hard to beat.) He used to advertise Tanalised fence posts because back in the day, rugby players volunteered to play for NZ, but they didn’t get paid like a professional sportsman does today. They all had “regular” jobs and a lot of them were “tough” men like farmers and other “manly” things, so advertising things like fence posts was a huge endorsement in a farming country like NZ.


Colin Meads playing Rugby for NZ

Colin Meads line that stuck with NZ, was, “they’re tough, rugged, and durable.”Thank you bloody Colin!
It’s an awful legacy to live by.
One of the first people to get to the top of Everest was New Zealander Sir Edmund Hillary, along with Nepalese Tenzing Norgay. Mad bastards! But putting that aside, they were the first people in the world to reach the apex of the highest mountain in the world.
My sister and I often joke that the only reason they got there was because Sir Ed just ignored his feelings like all New Zealand men are taught to do.
“Stop complaining, Tenzing, we’re nearly there. It’s only a wee bit brisk today. Christ, it’s colder than this in New Zealand when that Southerly comes up from Antarctica, man up!” etcetera, etcetera, etcetera… Tenzing would have perhaps rolled his eyes if they weren’t glued into a permanent frozen rictus in his face from the cold.


Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay
And we expect men to “push on.” To be able to handle all sorts of things we don’t want to handle. Then we complain that our men don’t show their feelings, won’t talk about them and are generally shut off. Why would you want to expose yourself to ridicule? You’d be mad to do that.
Years down the track, another famous NZ All Black “came out.”
In a country that expects its men to be—well—men, this could have been professional suicide. Young boys look up to All Blacks. They’re heroes. Rugby is our national RELIGION for god’s sake! Coming out was a big risk for John Kirwan. Here’s what he had to say about it:
"When I was first asked to do the national health campaign, I was scared," he said. "I was scared people would think I was a freak." –
No, he wasn’t talking about being gay. He was talking about depression…
Thankfully, John Kirwan and other famous Kiwis paved the way for men in NZ to start to express themselves and our suicide rate has taken us out of the top spot with Finland to about #10. Yes, still not great. We have a way to go yet before we’re culturally more sophisticated and show some care toward our men. This is one of the reasons I can’t live back in my country of birth. I find the Kiwi attitude toward feelings hard to deal with. I’m not interested in men who can’t be whole men through society, conditioning, their own self etc. I want men who feel and express everything.

John Kirwan


I think that’s one of the reasons we’re so attracted to the gay community. And reading about m/m romance. Men who express their feelings and are real people. Whole men, gentle men, tough men, but all men who are emotionally there. We get let into a “secret” world of things we’re not usually exposed to with men—feelings and emotions we crave.
Some of what I’m writing about today is spurred by a discussion I was involved in last night on an intersex person and her recent troubles. The remarks that people made were just awful. I can’t believe the things people think sometimes. They saw her as a man, even though she was female. But again, the “be a man” thing came up.
Thanks to Cody Kennedy
for this brilliant and perfect intersex symbol

And in reviews I keep reading and things people mention regarding something in a book, there are a lot of “rules” regarding what men can and can’t do.
“Men don’t giggle.”
Actually, men do giggle. Pacific Island men are gigglers. They’re gorgeous. My late husband was Maori and he giggled. He also laughed but he did not chuckle. I was talking to Phetra Novak, another author about this and some things are cultural. Men in her country of Sweden don’t giggle, they chuckle. Men in my country, giggle and laugh.
My dad will say, “It was a bit of a giggle.”
One of my favorite memories of my late husband Aaron—drunk as a skunk, giggling his heart out as I’m trying to get him into bed.
Billy T James, a NZ Maori comedian who was known for his "Maori giggle." 

“Insta-love is not real.”
I can’t understand where this one comes from. It only seems to apply to the gay community and m/m stories.
If you’re hetero and have “love at first sight” with someone, that’s acceptable. It’s even seen as an incredible love story. But if you’re gay, it’s called “insta-love” and it’s bullshit, tawdry, cheap, and “silly.” Excuse me! How the hell does that work?  
Love at first sight DOES happen to every gender. It’s happened to me. But it’s “frowned” upon by others outside the gay community or in book reviews. It’s another thing that is dumped on the gay community and is just ridiculously sexist and arrogant. I’m so sick of this attitude toward men.




“Men don’t use sweet names all the time, that’s just ridiculous in adults.”
I actually had someone say this in a review or words to this effect, a few years back. All the men I go out with do use sweet names, all the time. Also, if you’re in New Orleans, expect someone just walking down the street to say, “Hey, baby.” My kind of place! Again, this is probably cultural or also seems to relate to people who don’t allow themselves to be feel and be real. Just because you’re shutoff, it doesn’t mean the rest of the world is.


“Men don’t like cats.”
Really? I only go out with men that like cats. Men that don’t like cats are persona non grata for me. Seriously. There are very distinct personality differences between cat and dog lovers. Morgan Freeman is a cat lover—enough said.



What all this is about, is that we don’t allow men to be humans. We want them to be superheroes who don’t worry about their weight, their hair, their intense fear of spiders, or the shitty remark from Joe Blogg at the office. We don’t allow them to feel, be hurt, fall in love madly, badly and gladly. We want them to be tough and “be a man” “handle things” but then complain that they don’t open up and tell us their feelings.
Pick one. You can’t have both.  
What I notice about the gay men I know who are in long term relationships is this. They all seem to really love their partners or husbands. They like them and think they’re wonderful. I often wonder why their relationships seem happier and more content than hetero relationships.
Some of the things I hear often are: I can be myself. I can tell him everything. He never judges me. He gets how I feel. 
Yeah.
There’s a lot to be said for that.

Menage m/m/f committed erotic romance

Wednesday Whine & Wine with Meg Amor (NSFW) from Coffee and Porn guest appearance. Research Purposes Only…
Aloha everyone. Pour yourself a wine and let’s talk sexy men. I always find a wine or three helps 
loosen people’s tongues. And this is possibly why I get onto these wandery subjects in my brain. I 
wonder what…? So…
I write m/m stories and menage. I LOVE writing the sex scenes. Getting lost in the exotic imaginings 
and textures… gorgeous. Sites like Coffee and Porn and a few on fb I belong to where everyone is 
open heartedly happy about the gorgeous pics that are posted here make me smile. Like most
people, I save  lots of images for my “research files.”


The biggest smile I got out of having my computer stolen by some “machismo” guys was the look I 
imagined on their faces if they went through my sexy guys folder.
I imagined their gonads inching rapidly up into their intestines as my many pictures were flicked 
through. Okay, so yes, it’s a wee bit of a fantasy. They may have opened it and thought… WTF? 
And rapidly closed it again. Still… fantasies are good when you fancy a spot of revenge.





I’ve also considered getting a boyfriend in the coming year. What will he think of my collection?
It made me wonder what anyone would think going through my computer files. I have them all 
grouped into folders for easy access. Anal sex, Balls, Beautiful black men, Blowjobs, Cartoon Art, 
Cocks, Exotics, Kilties, Kiss and Cuddle, Lingerie, Long hair, Masturbation, Men in Uniform, Teabag, 
and Underpants.



I start to wonder how other people group their sexy men pics. I wonder what types of pics really grab
 them or the type of men that really do it for them?
Which piccies on Coffee and Porn do we flick to each day first to check them out? I always love the
nooner one the best – sexy as hell. Anal sex shots always ramp me up, and piccies of thick cocks
and good balls, WITH pubic hair. Please give me pubic hair!!
 I love my exotics. Men of different ethnicities, brown skin really does it for me and black hair. I don’t
like muscled men. Long hair and earrings really amps me up. Someone like Willy Cartier (one of the
 few men in the world other than Morgan Freeman and Tom Selleck I can tolerate facial hair on.) He 
is mymuse for Danny Lucerno who is introduced in Hawaiian Orchid and will appear in his own story
 Hawaiian Fragrance next year.
Willy Cartier

Or someone like Dayvid Thomas – Hawaiian musician with long black curly hair and earrings, brown
 skin (sheer perfection) nearly make me bite through my lip. Gorgeous! He’s my muse for Kulani 
Mahikoa in Hawaiian Orchid.
Dayvid Thomas

I’m also a huge fan of men with lovely erections in form fitting underpants… my reaction is always… 
Nice Panties!
What’s sexy? What’s not?
Do you like redheads?
Hairy or not - Pubic hair? Facial hair, chest hair, leg hair, arse hair?
Earrings or long hair?
Ink? How much and where?
How about manties? I was surprised at a fb party I was at and put up a manties shot, thinking I’d be 
one of the few people who think they’re sexy and was surprised at how many other people said, Me 
Too!!
What squicks you too? No pubic hair squicks me and some types of kink.
Favorite types of cocks? Long, short, skinny, thick, circumcised, or not?




I’m also a huge fan of balls… all shapes and sizes. I like the dangly ones and the big ones, all of them
really. I don’t know many other people with this love. I think they get overlooked sometimes with men.
Like most of us on here, I love seeing nude men. They’re just gorgeous. And I want to know what your
 personal OMGOD ones are?
I’m a big fan of freckles, long legs, sexy bums and good hands. And killer eyes and good hair. (To
name a few of my favorite things.) LOL.
Other things my brain wanders aimlessly around, thinking about. One of my edit clients was chastising
 herself because she thought she had an “overly wild imagination.” I said, “You’re a writer, you’re
 supposed to!”
Which brings me to: Worst and best names of all time for genitals in writing.   
Worst – manhood, member (member of what? Parliament?) slong, wand, (reminds of a guy I once
 had sex with who had no idea what he was doing and waved his extremely white one around like a 
wand – very off putting,) and man jewels. I can do jewels and even family jewels… but not man jewels. 
Call me picky. And in all fairness I have used manhood ONCE. Henry is an older black gentleman in 
Henry and Isolde, and it was appropriate for him to say ONCE when he was still feeling a bit shy
I like cock, dick, penis, length and shaft. And balls, nuts are less sexy for me. Erection, hard-on, 
thickness all work for me too. Sometimes I think the formal words like erection can be very sexy.

Now I want to hear what everyone else likes when we get right down to it in RL and books. :) Knock 
yourselves out in the comments!  Return on Friday for the Friday Free For All and be in to win a copy
 of Hawaiian Lei or Henry and Isolde. I’ll give away a copy of each to two lucky people. Aloha and
 thanks for being fellow lovers of beautiful sexual and sensuous men. J


*~*~*~*~*~*~*


HENRY AND ISOLDE ~ Book One
New Orleans, city of soul. Home to the new Troika 
Trilogy seriesHenry, Charlie, and Izzy... three friends, three lovers, 
across three lifetimes.A sensuous, sultry, steamy, romance erotica story.
~*~ … So a woman who’s open with me about 
everything is a revelation. Actually, everything about 
this beautiful woman is. I’ve stepped from a life of 
several unappetizing shades of beige into a glorious 
rainbow buffet of textures, sights, and sounds. But 
most of all—feelings I’m allowed to have. ~*~
 A steamy, deeply sensuous love story, set in 
modern day New Orleans. Henry, an older black 
musician and house restorer feels his life is nearing 
its end. Until he falls in love with the exuberant New 
Zealander, Izzy—his white, younger, richer, married boss. 
The passionate Izzy seduces him in the secret garden he built for her. His life goes from fifty 
shades of beige to a rainbow of textures, sights and sounds, but most of all—feelings he’s 
allowed to have.
They launch into a torrid romance, full of secrecy, steamy seductive sex in car washes, 
beds, and a public park—anywhere to escape the endless stream of house guests.
As their love grows, and inhibitions die, Henry comes into his sexuality for the first time in 
his life. The deep friendship, love and breathtaking romance revitalizes Henry’s old bones.
 But will he be able to keep up with this achingly beautiful younger woman? And will she 
leave her husband?
Their growing relationship exposes family secrets. When Henry suffers an emotional crisis, 
a surprising World War Two lifetime memory resurfaces. It reveals Henry and Izzy’s intense 
connection to Henry’s best friend, Charlie.
A trilogy romance that spans a decade and two past lives between New Orleans, England 
and France. It takes the three close friends from friends to lovers. Charlie, Henry and Izzy 
are the chi circle where the flame still burns and love never dies. Proving that love is love.

Available on Amazon http://tinyurl.com/pdreuxc


HAWAIIAN ORCHID ~ Book Two in 
The Hawaiians series
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.
Hawaiian Orchid by Meg AmorEdited by Heather HollisCover Art by Syneca FeatherstonePublished by Loose Id, LLC

Amazon          Loose Id          All Romance Books ARe
Kobo          Barnes and Noble

Excerpt

Rob 

“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.

Bugger.

“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.

Longer R-rated version on Loose Id 

Meg Amor, a multi-published contemporary author, has always believed in love and romance. She
writes deep, sensual, romance stories about heartfelt connections and deep soul relationships. Meg 
feels that passionate sex, as well as her characters inner workings--their vulnerabilities, emotions, and
 thoughts--are what make a love story exciting and real. She loves to write sensual, erotic romance, 
with committed poly, and gay male/male relationships.
Meg hand-wrote and "published" her first book when she was eleven about her parent's separation.Constantly told as a child she had a vivid and (over) active imagination, the dawn of the computer erameant she could now take dictation at speed from the interesting characters galloping around her head.
She grew up in New Zealand, and temporarily lives in California with her American fur child Leo Ray Jr.,the Ginger Ninja. Her heart and soul are split between her American home state of Hawai'i in Kona on
 the Big Island, and the sultry, steamy Southern city of New Orleans. Nearly all her books are set in 
Hawai'i or New Orleans, along with snatches of New Zealand for good luck.
Meg's a bohemian and gypsy at heart, and loves to travel all over the world. She has a love of opencockpit biplanes and the gentle waft into the air from a grass strip. Given a choice, she'd eat out mostnights. Fine dining, French, Fusion, Afghani, and Burmese food are some of her all-time favorites. But
her favorite junk food is New Zealand fish and chips cooked in pure fat. Never one to do things by 
halves, she believes in the motto "Amor Vincet Omnia"--Love Conquers All.
Aloha!

Coffee and Porn in the Morning: Wednesday Whine & Wine with Meg Amor (NSFW): Research Purposes Only… Aloha everyone. Pour yourself a wine and let’s talk sexy men. I always find a wine or three helps loosen people...

Aloha everyone!! Sorry it's been a while. A few technical 'issues,' but today we're back in the saddle with international man of mystery ~ Jay Gaudette ~ erotica writer and lifestyle/travel writer! (for me, that's the ultimate lifestyle, I'm a wee bit envious. :)) But today we're here to ask Jay some writerly and sexy questions to celebrate the Damn, that's Hot Erotica 2 ~ June 23rd to 28th 2015!!!  So welcome Jay, People always want to know what makes erotica writers tick? Over to you :) 
What makes you write erotica? What appeals to you about it? Are you a ‘closet’ erotica writer or ‘out’ to people?
Why do I write erotica? Well, I like sex! I like talking about it. I like thinking about it. I like doing it! So, why not write about it!
No, I am not out as an erotica writer. Jay Gaudette is a pseudonym. Under my real name, I’m a published lifestyle/travel writer. I thought it would be better to keep the two endeavours separate. 


Any odd habits or rituals when writing?
I think the closest thing you’re asking about would be when I write. I live with several odd sleep disorders and I’m usually wide eyed and bushy tailed when most people are hard asleep. Heard of a morning person? Someone that wakes up around 5am or so? Ha! Slacker! I have lunch around 6am. So, my office is open at around midnight or 12:30am. That’s when I write. (Me too Jay, I don't crank up until about 11 at night. Daylight... ugh... horrible stuff!)



Do you like writing the sex scenes? Are they arousing? What are the hardest or easiest scenes to write?
Funny you mention that...While I’m certainly going to continue to write erotica, I’m also getting into more PG13/R rated works. One of the reasons is that I think that 100% erotica all the time is becoming limiting. I think it would be easier to start further on the PG13 end of the scale and ratchet up when needed, rather than start at the X-rated end and soften things for the work’s purposes. It’s like, when you write erotica you HAVE to include sex scenes. When you write PG13/R material, you don’t have to do anything.
As far as arousal goes...well...yeah, I get off on it all. But not when I’m writing; only when I’m rereading it.
And is it easy? NO! How many different ways can you say someone is fucking, was fucked, or is going to fuck?




Who is the favorite of your characters and why?
At the moment, Marie Kessel, from Tough Cookie, the third book of the Unconventional Affairs Trilogy. She’s a member of the Coast Guard and earned the nickname Tough Cookie. She smart, strong, capable, beautiful, resourceful and a badass. But her feelings for Mark, her love interest, drive her to do things that, for  such a young woman, would have seemed impossible to her earlier. 
How did you get some of your titles for your books?
Unconventional Affairs – took place at a Las Vegas convention, they had an affair, so bingo.


Tangier- the male love interest’s last name. Sounds exotic.




Tough Cookie- The heroine’s nickname.

Somethin’ Somethin’ – from a piece of dialog that happened several times in Tangier.
Porn Star Party- self-explanatory. 

When you enjoy a book you’re reading, do you read fast or slow? Do you ever read the end first? Do you flick through a book for the sexy bits?
The Earth’s tectonic plates move faster than my reading speed. I usually start at the beginning of a book, and just like music or a movie, a book has only a few pages to hook me. If I’m not hooked quick, I won’t go any further. I’m too slow a reader to drudge through something.
Do you collect pictures of people who represent your characters or pictures of things in your books?
I’m a Pinterest junkie. Here’s the link to my Unconventional Affairs cast. A few of the characters have their own boards.
https://www.pinterest.com/jaygaudette10/unconventional-affairs-saga-cast/https://www.pinterest.com/jaygaudette10/carol-wehrli-fictional-character/https://www.pinterest.com/jaygaudette10/monica-kessel-fictional-character/https://www.pinterest.com/jaygaudette10/marie-kessel-fictional-character/


What country captures your imagination the most and why?

The US, only because I’m familiar with places and things.




What parts of you are incorporated into your characters?

I think my sense of optimism and confidence. In the trilogy, one of the tropes use is this expression first uttered by the character Gina Elliott—Confidence is magic. Be confident and have faith that good things will happen.

I believe that.


Personal confidence is a theme I even use when it comes to sexual relationships. Another idea is for my lead female characters to learn this about themselves and their relationships-- There’s no other woman in the world like me, and I’m everything that you’ll ever want or need. There is no greater love for you than mine, and I’m always ready to be loved by you.

SEXY QUESTIONS
Do you like curvy women?

Yes!
Do you like long hair on men or women?

Yes!
What’s the biggest turn off in a lover?

Passiveness
What’s the biggest turn on in a lover?

Confidence
Favorite body parts in a lover? What attracts you physically?

The whole package. I will say though, I woman with good posture does the trick for me.
What’s your favorite underwear on a man or woman? Do you like sexy lingerie on men or women? What kind?

On a woman—I think they’re called Boy Shorts(?)

Lingerie—not so much. Underpants (boy shorts!), tank top, bare midriff…that’s the ticket. Oh, and a woman wearing her man's dress shirt...oh my.  



BIO
Jay Gaudette is an author of a variety of erotic genres. His novels include the Unconventional Affairs Trilogy; The Unconventional Affair, Tangier and Tough Cookie—epic sagas about the kind of love and life we all aspire to. Short stories include sequels based on the trilogy, Jay Gaudette’s Friends and Lover series, and various other titles.


"The difference between porn and erotica and romance is simple -- porn is all about the physical sex act. Erotica is all about the characters, with a healthy dose of sex thrown in. Romance is all about the emotions of any relationship with some juicy bits strongly intimated. My greatest pleasure of writing these stories is not the sex; it's the people. Nothing has given me greater pleasure than creating these wonderful characters."
You can see and buy all of his titles by going to his Pinterest store.
Themes -- Optimism, confidence, liberation, mentor-ship, friendship, healthy sexuality, healthy opportunism, recognizing one's destiny and following it.

Connect with Jay
Blog http://jaygaudette.blogspot.com/

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/jay.gaudette.10

Twitter @jaygaudette123

Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/jaygaudette10/
Email jaygaudette123@gmail.com