Hawaii Hottie: States of Love

By Ann Omasta and Callie Love

Forbidden desire meets life-threatening danger aboard a luxury yacht in paradise.

 

Hardworking yacht stewardess Tori McKay can't deny the magnetic attraction simmering between her and Captain Hudson "Hottie" Harrison.

 

Being near the captain, with his commanding presence and smoldering intensity, sends a delicious shiver down Tori's spine. But he's her boss and completely off-limits.

 

With a deadly countdown looming, this duo's undeniable connection is set ablaze. Can they work together to survive an explosive threat designed to tear them–and their ship–apart?

 

Feel the burning suspense in Hawaii Hottie, a captivating romance perfect for fans of forbidden love, thrilling adventure, or the hit television show, Below Deck.

 

The States of Love books are scorching stories with heat, heart, and laughter. They feature strong characters, sizzling chemistry, and satisfying happily-ever-afters. Start anywhere. Binge-read them all. Sail away with Hawaii Hottie now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: More Happily Ever Afters
• Release date: Mar 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224268412

Ann Omasta

Ann Omasta is a USA Today bestselling author.  Ann’s Top Ten list of likes, dislikes, and oddities: I despise whipped cream. There, I admitted it in writing. Let the ridiculing begin. Even though I have lived as far south as Key Largo, Florida, and as far north as Maine, I landed in the middle. If I don't make a conscious effort not to, I will drink nothing but tea morning, noon, and night. Hot tea, sweet tea, green tea––I love it all. There doesn't seem to be much in life that is better than coming home to a couple of big dogs who are overjoyed to see me. My other family members usually show significantly less enthusiasm about my return. Singing in my bestest, loudest voice does not make my family put on their happy faces. This includes the big, loving dogs referenced above. Yes, I am aware that bestest is not a word. Dorothy was right. There's no place like home. All of the numerous bottles in my shower must be lined up with their labels facing out. It makes me feel a little like Julia Roberts' mean husband from the movie Sleeping with the Enemy, but I can't seem to control this particular quirk. I love, love, love finding a great bargain! Did I mention that I hate whipped cream? It makes my stomach churn to look at it, touch it, smell it, or even think about it. Great––now I'm thinking about it. Ick! ** I would LOVE to send you a free copy of my novella, Aloha, Baby! Visit annomasta.com for details. ** Stay up-to-date on new releases and insider info by liking / following Ann: - Facebook: facebook.com/annomasta - Goodreads: goodreads.com/annomasta - Bookbub: bookbub.com/authors/ann-omasta - Website: annomasta.com

Book preview

1

TORI

Istand tall on the bow of the superyacht and let the briny wind wash over me. My hair blows back––wild and free. The heat of the sun draws my face up toward it as I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, savoring the now-familiar scents of fresh air and sea life.

Waves lap gently against the side of the shiny white boat as we sit at anchor in the giant expanse of vivid blue water. Barely visible in the distance, tall palm trees wave at us from a tiny, deserted island. This impossibly beautiful tropical paradise is my home now.

The luxurious ship is all mine, and I am the queen of the sea. I’m the luckiest woman alive.

Tori, the master suite’s toilet needs cleaned again, the yacht’s chief stewardess, Hannah, says. Her squawking voice interrupts the perfect, blissful moment of peace.

Okay, I’ll be right there, I reply obediently. The magical spell has been shattered.

Evidently taking pity on me, Hannah jokes, Something on Chef Ken’s menus must not agree with the primary guest’s stomach.

I can imagine the mess that is likely waiting for me in the yacht’s plush master bathroom, so when I try to smile at her lighthearted comment, it emerges as more of a grimace.

It’s rare for the abrasive woman to make any attempt to be kind to me. I evidently missed my chance to bond with her because as soon as I walk by her, she grouches, Pick up the pace. Your break is over.

Never missing an opportunity to point out that she is more experienced and of a higher rank than I am, Hannah snips, As your chief stew, your laziness reflects poorly on me.

As much as I’d like to scream at her that I have been working tirelessly cleaning and doing laundry from daybreak until late into the night for several weeks without a day off, I manage to refrain. Instead, I continue walking as I slick my hair back into a sleek ponytail and secure it with the elastic band I retrieve from my wrist.

The short fifteen-minute breaks I get once or twice a day when I imagine that I am the owner of this boat are the highlights of my days. I escape the drudgery of my nonstop toiling below deck and actually get to enjoy the pristine beauty that surrounds me on this Hawaii-based luxury yacht.

I’m holding tight to the metal railing as I walk along the narrow passage on the starboard side of the ship toward the aft. Of course, I could go downstairs and traverse the space below deck, but I like to squeeze every moment of sea breeze and sunshine I can from my breaks.

If I happen to see any guests while I’m up top, I can offer to get them drinks and snacks to extend my reprieve from the incessant cleaning-laundering-ironing cycle that is my life at work.

When I pause to pull a piece of bubble gum from my uniform’s pocket, the door just ahead of me opens. I unwrap the gum and quickly pop it into my mouth, not wanting whoever is emerging from the main salon to see it and report me for being unprofessional.

The rituals of pulling my hair into a tight ponytail and chomping on a wad of gum help me get back into the third stewardess groove. My lack of experience, combined with the peon rank of being a third stew, means I am the crew member with the lowest status on this yacht. If it’s a job no one else wants to do, then it gets assigned to me.

For the most part, I don’t mind doing the grunt work. After all, I am in paradise. But it sure would be nice to receive some verbal appreciation. The generous cash tips we get from the guests at the end of each charter are wonderful, but sometimes a lady likes to hear from her boss that she’s doing a good job.

I stand back to leave room for the person emerging from the doorway. My eyes widen as I catch sight of who it is. The tall, handsome captain of our ship, Hudson Harrison, clearly deserves the secret nickname most of us call him––Captain Hottie.

His crisp white polo shirt and navy-blue shorts look as dignified as other men appear in formal three-piece suits. When I’d first boarded the ship, I had expected the captain to be a crusty old man. Captain Hottie was about as far as could be from the mental image I had conjured of a peg-legged, seafaring codger.

Ever the gentleman, the captain holds the door open for me, tips his head and says in his deep and sexy voice, Good morning, Tori.

Hoping my tone doesn’t betray my enormous crush on the gorgeous man, I clear my throat before saying, Good morning, Captain Hot––, err, Captain Hudson.

His soft-looking lips curve up into a knowing smile, which makes me wonder if he’s aware of his widespread nickname.

Humiliated by what I almost blurted out, I put my head down and rush through the door. I scurry down the stairs without looking back, even though I can feel the warmth of his gaze on my back.

Once I’m downstairs, I put in my earbuds to listen to an upbeat playlist, chomp on my gum, and begin moving several loads of wet laundry into the industrial dryers. Over the past few weeks, this has become my comfortable, if tiring, routine.

I’m perfectly at home in this tiny, stuffy, and windowless room. Although the work is exhausting, I wouldn’t give up my job for anything in the world. That’s why I guard my secret so carefully. If anyone on board found out the truth about me, the captain and Hannah wouldn’t have any choice except to immediately terminate me. I can’t let that happen.

Once the dryers are tumbling, I reload and start the washers.

Knowing I can’t put it off a moment longer, I blow a bubble with my gum and let it pop before heading toward the master suite to scrub the toilet––again.

2

HUDSON

I’m her boss, I remind myself for what seems like the thousandth time in the few weeks Tori and I have been on board this ship together.

It’s not like me to be interested in a crew member. In fact, it’s never happened before. I’m in charge of the safety and wellbeing of everyone on this yacht, and I take that responsibility seriously. A dalliance with a member of the crew would only serve to distract me from that primary goal.

Of course, I also want to make sure the filthy rich guests on board have the time of their lives, but that mission is secondary. My years in the Coast Guard made me a military man who runs a tight ship. I want everyone to have fun, as long as it’s the kind of fun they can safely walk away from.

If anyone tries anything that puts someone in danger, they’ll get a one-way ticket home from me––and that includes the charter guests. The owners of the yacht would not appreciate me kicking a guest off the ship, but I’m the captain of Sea Dreams, which makes me in charge of her.

I’m also in charge of Tori, which means it is completely unwise of my body to hum into overdrive whenever she’s nearby. I pride myself on being a stern, but friendly, captain who treats my crew with dignity and respect.

The many ways I envision undressing and taking Tori, whenever I close my eyes or walk by her, are not at all appropriate within the confines of our boss-employee relationship. Perhaps once this yachting season is over, I can offer to take her out on a real date. But for now, I need to keep my lustful wishes under wraps.

When my cell phone jingles, I smile at the name that pops up on the screen before answering, Hey, Buddy. Today is the big day. Or are you calling to say you’ve gotten cold feet and called off the wedding?

Never, Ryder’s deep voice answers with a surprising amount of sincerity, considering the flippant tone of my question.

I’ve been friends with Ryder since we met on our school’s swim team. Our love of the water and decision to join the military set us up on similar, yet different paths. While I went the Coast Guard route, Ryder joined the Navy and worked his ass off to become a SEAL. We like to razz each other about whose branch of the military is best, but deep down, we are, and always will be, brothers.

Most of his newer friends call him by the nickname he acquired in boot camp, Wrangler, but he’ll always be Ryder to me.

Both of us ending up living in Hawaii is a happy accident, but I’m glad to have a good friend from home nearby. Even though we don’t see each other very often, there is no doubt in my mind that Ryder would do anything for me––as I would for him.

Just making sure everything is all set for today. Ryder hints.

He sounds nervous, so I opt not to tease him on his big day. Yep, the ship and crew will be ready. We are heading back to the marina now. Once the charter guests leave, my staff will clean and prep the boat for your wedding this evening. It’s going to be beautiful.

I still can’t believe the owners agreed to let us borrow the yacht for the ceremony. I really can’t thank you enough, Ryder says in an emotional tone.

Technically, I hadn’t asked the owners for permission to use the yacht on our only day off this week for my buddy’s wedding, but I decide not to worry Ryder with that detail. Besides, if the owners find out and are angry, I’m the one who will take the heat.

The crew all voluntarily agreed to help out with the wedding preparations and reception. I’m sure Ryder will tip them, but if it comes up short of what they are used to receiving, I’ll add to it out of my own pocket to make sure they are handsomely compensated for this enormous favor.

It’s no problem, I assure my friend. Does Steffie have everything worked out with Chef Ken for the menu?

I already know the answer to this because the temperamental chef has been complaining about how much he hates working for another chef. He likes to be in charge with as little input as possible about his meals, but Ryder’s bride has been very specific about what she wants.

Yes, I think they have everything settled, Ryder answers, obviously unaware of the chef’s behind-the-scenes ranting.

Great, we’ll see you in a bit, I say before signing off the call.

I pick up my dark blue The Captain is Always Right, and I’m the Captain mug and take a sip. The perfectly doctored coffee Tori brought me earlier this morning has gone cold. Smiling to myself, I realize this is the ideal excuse to go down to the galley for a refill. Perhaps I’ll get lucky and catch another glimpse of Tori.

Shaking my head, I decide that I’ve got it bad for this woman. Even that realization, though, isn’t enough to stop me from heading below deck.

3

TORI

Iblow at the stray strands of hair that have escaped my ponytail and are currently sticking to my forehead. It’s not even 10:00 a.m., but I’m already a sweaty mess. This job may be menial, but it’s certainly not for sissies.

Although I’d been really looking forward to having the rest of the day off after we dock, there is no way I could turn down a favor for Captain Hottie. Besides, decorating for his friend’s wedding and serving at the reception will be a lot more fun than cleaning and keeping the endless cycle of laundry rotating.

I am