Aloha, Baby

By Liv Rancourt

Contemporary Romance

Short Story

Heat Level Sweet

Blue eyes, dimples, and a hot surfer's body means trouble, right? There's only one way for Katie to find out...

Losing seventy pounds was sure something to celebrate, but at the same time it created problems Katie never expected to deal with. Like, what to do when the hot-bodied surfer, Jack, turned out to be the DJ at her roommate's favorite dance club. Katie was positive he had ‘Trouble’ stamped on his butt. Didn't he?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rancourt Publishing
• Release date: Jan 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524271190

Liv Rancourt

An Adams Media author.

Book preview

Honolulu City Lights

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Blue eyes, dimples, and a hot surfer's body means trouble, right? There's only one way for Katie to find out...

Losing seventy pounds was sure something to celebrate, but at the same time it created problems Katie never expected to deal with. Like, what to do when the hot-bodied surfer, Jack, turned out to be the DJ at her roommate's favorite dance club. Katie was positive he had ‘Trouble’ stamped on his butt. Didn't he?

* * *

Dedication: To Robin, Laura, Tracy, Carole, Gina, Heidi, and Becca because you guys were there. And to Mike Mojosurf Johnson, thanks for the technical advice. Any errors are mine and will prove without a doubt that I spent more time on the beach than in the water.

I curled my toes into the hot sand at Makapu’u Beach, planning my escape from Meli. She was tiny, but persistent, like a kid with the perfect birthday gift in her sights. And she had it in her head that when the sun went down, we were going dancing. As if she’d actually get me, Katie Maloney, on the dance floor. It was...unlikely. Meli was my roommate, though, which made her hard to avoid.

I glanced at the black plastic Swatch watch on my wrist. The brand had been so trendy when I bought it in nineteen-eighty-eight that I couldn’t see how butt-ugly it was. Four years later it remained reliably waterproof and accurate, so I still wore it. 

Since there was half an hour before I had to leave, I tugged my fins back on and jogged out towards the water, lifting my knees high to clear the sand. I headed in the direction of Rabbit Island, a huge rock formation jutting out of the water several hundred yards from shore.

When I got past where the waves were breaking, I drifted on my back, sculling my hands so I could tip my head up and watch the whole beach without being seen. The smell of the briny water almost washed out my cocoa-butter suntan oil.

Three men sat on a pile of rocks near the surf. One was a grizzled old guy whose hair was a solid matt of dreadlocks hanging down his back. He was always there when I came down to the beach. For all I knew, he lived on that pile of rocks.

The other two guys were surfers who only showed when the waves were right. Kalani was a local boy whose long black hair had bleached to gold at the ends. He’d tip his chin and raise his eyebrows to acknowledge Meli if she was around. He ignored me, but then I was used to men ignoring me. It wasn’t a problem.

His buddy Jack was friendlier. He was about twenty-five with shaggy brown hair and the posture of an ex-Marine. One day, while they were waiting for the swell to pick up, Jack plopped his board down in the sand next to me and started talking.

It’s pretty flat out there. His killer, pale blue eyes stood out in his tanned face. Deep dimples cut grooves down his cheeks.

I blushed because not only was he trying to talk to me, but I was paranoid he’d said fat instead of flat. I shifted my weight just enough so I could check him out without being obvious about it. Deciding