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Chapters 1-4
Copyright
Copyright © 2024 by Brooke Gilbert
Cover hand drawn by Brooke Gilbert. Original Cover design copyright © 2024 by Brooke Gilbert. Images included in the novel are under the license provided by Canva Pty Ltd.
Edited by Isabel Pettibone
Formatted by Brooke Gilbert.
Published by One More Spoonful Books
The following is a work of fiction. All people, places, names, events, and situations are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to a person, dead or living, is completely coincidental, and is not to be taken as reality.
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First Edition
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, transmitted, or distributed in any form without the author’s explicit written permission.
Dedication
For anyone who has felt the weight of anxiety, the life altering effects of panic attacks, or has suffered with mental health issues. Being brave doesn’t have to mean wearing a mask and being alone with your emotions. Being brave can be loving yourself and accepting your situation enough to talk about it.
Epigraph
“Why not be yourself, everyone else is taken.” -Oscar Wilde
Content Caution
Hello Friend,
As many of you know, I began my journey writing as a form of therapy and also to see someone like myself represented in fiction. It's my greatest hope that you will find comfort and escape in these pages! But I also hope if you battle mental health or chronic illness that you will feel seen. And I wanted to see mental health representation between the pages of a whirlwind romance set in a tropical locale. And like one of my favorite quotes says, “if you don’t see the book you want on the shelf, write it.” It's my hope that these characters will provide a journey of healing and acceptance for you while finding a special place in your heart. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t note that these characters are dealing with topics that may be triggering to some and they are based on my experiences. That's why I strongly believe in disclosing trigger warnings!
Mental health is such a big part of chronic illness and “spoonie” life, and one that has affected me greatly. So there will be anxiety, depression, and panic attacks discussed in depth, and a panic attack will be included in this novel.***SPOILER ALERT*** And depictions of childhood illness and infertility. ***SPOILER OVER*** However, I hope romance and humor will balance out these heavier topics for you. Masculinity, male toxicity, as well as past emotional abuse will be lightly touched upon. Themes of self-worth, acceptance, and unconditional love are present throughout to balance these important topics.
My door is always open to discuss modifications and areas to skip if a topic might be triggering to you. Please be kind to yourself, first and foremost, and if now isn’t a good time to read this novel, then I will certainly understand. Perhaps there will be a better time in the future. If you still have questions or specific triggers in mind, I’m available through Instagram (@brookegilbertauthor), TikTok (tiktok.com/@BrookeGAuthor), and email (brookegilbertauthor@gmail.com).
Also, I have taken a few liberties in the novel relating to places that allow our canine companions. Places like Moku Nui are off limits to dogs, but it was so much fun to include Nova in these scenes that I couldn’t resist including her. I appreciate your suspension of reality so she could be included. Also, a ferry route no longer exists between Maui and Oahu. But this mode of transportation worked best for the plot.
This is a ‘sweet’ novel. No cursing. There are fade to black scenes because seeing representation and intimacy was extremely important to me. I wish that growing up I had read or seen better representation of intimacy in films and literature. And I think starting a discussion is especially helpful for those of us who face mental health and disability. The ‘what-ifs’ can consume you and keep you from pursuing healthy relationships. I have had many conversations with readers who, like me, don’t feel they will find a partner who will accept them with their conditions. That they aren’t deserving of an intimate relationship. As I like to say, sometimes you have to see something first to believe it. And this is one area I believe that causes a lot of anxiety, even if you’re not currently dating. You still think about intimacy and your conditions.
One of the most empowering and impactful things I’ve seen on my health journey was women modeling their colostomy bags in lingerie. Seeing these women be confident with their disabilities made a tremendous impact on me. There will be a book with a character inspired by this soon. But this is my way of paying it forward.
I hope you enjoy your time in Maui and Oahu! I can’t wait to discuss this novel with you :)
Sending you endless spoons and much love,
Brooke
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Prologue-Reef-6 Months Earlier
In all the many different ways I’d imagined her walking back into my life, I was still not prepared for it to actually happen. Maybe that’s why I melted on the spot like an abandoned popsicle on a hot summer’s day. From my sheltered spot behind the restaurant bar, I watched as a very grown-up version of my childhood love chatted with her ukulele fans amidst the glow of tiki torches and shimmering Hawaiian moonlight. When her head slowly turned to gaze my way from across the outdoor patio, I felt as if everything was moving in slow motion. Time had the viscosity of honey. My feet liquified in place. And all it took was just one look.
Out of all the restaurants in Maui, she had chosen to hold her ukulele gathering at my workplace. I swallowed hard as the glimmer of the twinkling lights illuminated her figure walking my way. I felt that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Her gorgeous lavender dress swished as she moved in the full moonlight of the cool evening. And with every step she took, she pushed her shoulders back and held her head high with cool, determined confidence. While I stood frozen, a glass fused to my hand, making me look like a tropical version of the rusted Tin Man.
Oh God, I thought to myself, she’s getting closer. My pulse thrummed at the tantalizing way her body moved toward me. Get it together, get it–
“Aloha,” Luna’s sweet, husky voice emanated like velvet from her petite body. For such a tiny frame, she sure had a luscious voice. Great things did come in small packages. I couldn’t seem to stop staring at her. Stop it, Reef.
“Aloha,” I croaked, pinching my eyes shut, trying desperately to break the spell she had cast over me. Because with her, I never seemed to know if aloha was hello or goodbye. It sure wasn’t love. Finally, after I managed to set the glass down from my clenched hand, I immediately started cleaning another one a little too vigorously. It looked like I was going to need a lot of dirty dishes to keep myself preoccupied.
Luna smiled at my casual reply and slid gracefully onto a bar stool. She leaned against the counter, her body seeming to naturally gravitate toward me, just like it had all those years ago.
Her eyes captured mine, and I swung the dish towel over my shoulder, trying to tame my nervous energy. It was no use; I had been a goner as soon as her eyes had found mine in the crowd.
“It’s good to see you,” Luna ventured.
“Yeah, it’s been a little while. Can I make you something to drink? We have just about every libation imaginable. I even have fancy umbrellas for the piña coladas. If you get a nonalcoholic one, then I can ring it up as a kid’s drink and give you a few extra umbrellas.” Nervous laughter trickled out of me.
“Reef–” A slightly pleading tone colored her voice. No, she knew I didn’t want to talk about our history. It had been two decades, and she still had my heart on a silver platter.
Her hand slid across the bar top toward me, and then quickly retreated. An ache pierced me as I saw her hand pull back. Her delicate fingers resting safely on their side of the counter. Would she try to cross over the imaginary line again?
Her beautiful brown eyes dared to look up at me. The ones that always made me melt inside. She spoke softly, “How have you been?”
“Good. Yeah, it’s been busy here. Can’t complain . . .” An awkward tension flared around us. “What about you? I’ve been reading about you in the news. I always knew you’d make it. Congrats. Dreams really do come true.”
“Well, you were the very first one who believed in me. This whole thing has been . . . surreal,” her voice trailed off. “Reef do you think?–”
A loud voice called out, interrupting her question. “Luna, come on! Time to get started.” She bit her lip as she gazed over her shoulder.
“Just a moment,” she called back.
“They’re growing anxious.” A man walked over and raised her ukulele.
Luna nodded and turned back to face me. “Uh, I’m so sorry. I’ll come back later.” A nervous energy radiated off of her as she slipped down from her stool. Well, I certainly didn’t have any plans to be here later. My co-worker, Nalu, had said she’d close-up the bar this evening. I certainly didn’t have the nerve to wait around for Luna, hoping for something from her, not anymore.
I allowed myself one more glance over at Luna. People were surrounding her, giving her instructions about the upcoming performance. As soon as I looked in her direction, her eyes magnetized to mine, just as they always had been. And for a minute, everything grew quiet as we seemed frozen in place. I couldn't help but wonder if her sudden return was more than just a chance reunion.
When someone tugged on her arm, she turned her attention back to the task at hand. She was guided by her handlers toward a makeshift stage. I watched her disappear, just as I had all those decades ago. And just like that, the familiar hollow ache returned. So strong that it dulled all my other senses. But this time, I knew I couldn't let her go without a fight. Or at least, not without finding out if I still had any chance at all.
Chapter 1-Reef-Now
"Some say childhood is when we can be our truest selves. Maybe that’s why this flame burns so bright for my childhood love. And feels like nothing could ever extinguish it." -Cece LaRue, When You Were Mine
As soon as the storm started, she materialized like a soaking wet reverie. Everything from her thick eyelashes down to the hem of her long sundress was heavy with rain. Slowly, Celeste gazed up at him, getting lost in his eyes as she walked toward him. Her face softened when her feet reached his front porch steps. Her lips tried to whisper something, but in the pouring rain, she was too far away to be heard. Automatically, he took a step toward her, leaving the safety of his porch overhang, allowing the coolness to pelt both their skins as the tropical storm fiercely raged around them.
The glint in her hazel eyes was saying, ‘it’s always been you’. As her lips parted to speak, she seemed more like a mirage. Those lips were the ones he’d been waiting to hear an answer from for so long, so he was instantly swept up in the fantasy before him. Too afraid she wasn’t real. And just like that, time seemed to stand still. An indistinct murmur from her lips brought him back from his vivid fantasies. “Reef–”
“Châ!” I exclaimed in frustration as my name slipped from the character’s lips. From behind the faux tiki bar, I swiftly crumpled up the cocktail napkin with my messy words scrawled on it. I was blurring the lines of fiction and my own fantasy, yet again. And that was dangerous. A heat crossed my cheeks as the familiar feeling of failure rose inside me. Dragging me under and sending my fantasy world crashing to a halt.
One of these days, the woman from my daydreams would find out that I wrote this book for her. She’d realize the main character was inspired by her . . . and even more incriminating, that she was featured in all of my books. And I don’t think I'll ever truly be ready for that day. Especially since the last time we had an honest conversation together we were only twelve years old. Right before she broke my heart.
And yet, I couldn't stop picturing her as my main character. In fact, that’s how I had finally begun my writing career. I’d always wanted to write, but like so many other people, I had let my dreams go. It wasn’t until I came home from an especially hard day at the bar that I picked up my fountain pen. I desperately needed to see her again, if only for three hundred pages. And at that moment, it didn't matter if I’d never measure up. Someone at the bar that night had reminded me of her and then the floodgates had opened. And there was no stopping them. I wanted to escape with her to our world again. I needed to belong to a universe where we existed with our own ‘happily ever after’. Even if I was just the writer and she was my heroine. Because even in my fantasyland, she still needed to be off limits to me.
It all seemed pretty harmless, especially since I never intended for my work to be seen on the printed page or on anyone’s screen. My writing wasn’t meant to be anything more than a beautiful interlude in my day. I easily rationalized that everyone had a muse. That was before my best friend convinced me to query my work and then my writing somehow turned into a bestselling novel. Well, novels. So, I lived in the gray. But when I became the leading man, my world was lit with vivid living colors.
I forcefully lobbed the rejected napkin into the wastebasket behind the bar, squeezing my eyes tightly shut to erase my errant fantasy. I should be able to pull inspiration from someone, anyone–else. But when I changed my muse, my writing turned flat. And I was already up against a past due deadline. Daily reminders from my editor littered my inbox. As if I needed reminding that there was a high demand for Cece LaRue’s next romance, and that she needed LaRue’s revisions–my revisions. Edits for a book I never should have written. Maybe this conflicted feeling was the reason for the heap of dejected napkins in the trash can.
After seeing my muse walk back into my life six months ago, I’d come a little undone. Decades of bottled up emotions exploded across the page into a new manuscript. I guess I had a lot of “therapy” work to do. Years ago, my best friend had passed on the advice his grandmother had given him when he was being bullied: write down your feelings and then you’ll be ready to express them when the time is right. In all fairness, I doubt he thought my feelings were going to end up being written into fifteen best-selling romance novels. All under a pen name . . . About a woman I’d yearned for since we were twelve years old. So perhaps when my friend said I’d be able to tell her my true feelings if I wrote them down first, he intended for me to write directly to her, not publish my emotions as cryptic clues in multiple romance novels.
I stared at the trash can, feeling my emotional repression radiating off the ink from here. I was just about to fish the wadded napkin out of the trash when Nalu interrupted my thoughts.
“I bet it was good,” she said encouragingly, while continuing to take inventory of the bar. We were getting ready for the rush of tourists that would soon descend on the restaurant for dinner, after they had spent a day at the beach on the beautiful Maui shores. Until the evening, it was usually pretty dead at the Whalers Village Shopping Center. Occasionally a thirsty shopper stopped by, but other than that, I normally had plenty of time to daydream and write. Poor Nalu knew all about my weird writing habits. With as much time as I spent scribbling, she probably thought I had a manuscript the size of Moby Dick lying around somewhere. We’d gotten close while tending bar together, but I hadn’t shared my secret identity with her. There was only one person who knew about my pen name and that was my best friend, Locke.
I stared out past the open air patio bar to the sandy shores. A warm glow burnished them, casting everything through a golden hour lens. I’d love to grab my board and go surfing with Locke. It would be a great way to get out of my head. Surprisingly enough, bartending helped with that, too.
Listening to people’s stories was like a healing balm. Hearing other people’s stories brought Luna back to me. Maybe I’d begun bartending to feel connected to her again.
“Nah,” I finally answered Nalu. “The writing was actually pretty awful, but thanks for the confidence boost.”
“When are you going to actually publish something, Reef? I’ve fished out some of your napkins and I think they’re pretty incredible–” she stopped herself, as her olive complexion turned a slight shade of pink.
I smiled warmly at her. The encouragement was really nice. I just didn’t want anyone to find out who I really was in the literary world. I’d always dreamed of publishing my work a certain way, but my publisher had sold me as a sweeping romance author and I’d never had the courage to put my real name on my books. What if they discovered the source of my real inspiration–my muse?
Reef - Then - Age 24
“Cece LaRue,” Locke said emphatically, a slight slur to his words. I discreetly slid the drink away from him on our kitchen island. I knew when it was time to cut people off, even if I was still new to this bartending thing.
“What are you talking about?” I leaned heavily on my forearms, feeling the world slightly tilt on its axis.
Locke leaned back on his barstool. “Man, don’t you know your porn star name? It’s the name of your first pet and the street you grew up on.”
I choked on the sip I had just taken. Coughing slightly, I looked down at the contracts below me. The ones my agent had sent me. How I had ever gotten one of those, was still a mystery to me. But Locke was like a shot of liquid courage.
I exaggeratedly pointed downward in a circuitous way, as if hitting a bull’s eye. “You want me to put my porn star name on this? Even for a romance author, that name sounds like a little too much.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s not like we’ve come up with anything better. And remember, you wanted to be totally anonymous. No one is going to believe this is you. It’s like the most froufrou name ever. It certainly doesn’t sound Hawaiian.”
Maybe it was the drink, but his reasoning was getting stronger. It sounded about as good as one of those TV courtroom drama shows. I could hear the triumphant music swell in the background. My head shook . . . maybe that was a bad thing.
He leaned toward me, his fingers thumbing through the pile. “Your family would definitely never know.”
“Give me the pen,” I said confidently. My split-second decision was made. My father could never find out.
Chapter 2-Luna
"But love isn't so simple, At least not to a heart like mine. -Luna Manu Mele, The Man I Could Love
My eyes fixated on the page in front of me as I nestled deeper into the swinging hammock. My front porch became my retreat from the world when my senses needed a reset. And my favorite way to escape was through romance books. Especially tropical ones with ‘happily-ever-afters.’ There was a better chance I’d see someone like myself in between those pages than in other genres on the bookshelves. And recently, I really needed these stories.
I felt the soft island breezes caress my skin as the printed words enveloped me, pulling me deeper into a beautiful fantasy. Time didn’t seem to exist when I was in my private little universe. No worries existed in this microcosm. No one created a world that felt so true to me like the writings of Cece LaRue. I’d never been able to put myself in a main character’s shoes like this before. Being half Hawaiian, I loved how Ceceset all her books on the beautiful islands I called home. I felt a special connection with these books, almost like they were written just for me. But maybe everyone who enjoyed them felt the same way.
There was something magical about our islands and no one knew their heartbeats better than Cece. I’d give anything to meet her, or know what she looked like. The nondescript logo she used in place of an author photo drove me crazy with curiosity. And a publicist managed all of Cece’s social media accounts. The only thing that seemed to be truly Cece were the books. Well . . . and the P.O. box number I’d magically found.
I felt like such a stalker. I’d stumbled upon a hidden address–an old P.O. box–while I was reading about her. Okay, I was doing a little too much research on my favorite author. This particular page had been created when Cece’s first book was published, back when she probably thought she’d only receive a handful of letters from fans.
As soon as I’d written and sent my first letter to her, I’d immediately begun thinking about other possibilities. Maybe it was a decoy box manned by a publicist. I still cringe thinking about how I could have poured my heart out to her PR team. But I was shocked at the detailed response I received. It felt like proof that Cece was real, and that her responses were too. They were too heartfelt. Or maybe her PR team was just that good.
I pulled out one of her letters that I kept as a bookmark. It didn’t really matter who had written these letters anymore. They had gotten me through some really hard times when I didn’t know where else to turn. And someone had taken a lot of time to respond, so I was going to live in the fantasy. The stationary had softened so much over time that it felt more like satin sheets than actual writing paper. My eyes wandered over the fountain pen ink gracefully covering the pages. The letters glided seamlessly across the page. I wanted to drink them in.
Dear Luna,
Do you feel every atom go still when you have a pen in your hand? Does time stop for you? Sometimes that’s the only way I know how to make the world right and bring it to a standstill. I won’t pretend I know what you’re going through or that I’m as strong as you, but I can relate.
I’m afraid I’m a bit of a recluse. Writing by its very nature has helped me in so many different ways. It’s allowed my introverted soul to shine and given me even more reason to hide away. It eases the pain and fears, but unfortunately it’s also a bit of a double-edged sword. Sometimes what is healing can also damage, if we seek too much refuge in it. I now understand the meaning of ‘too much of a good thing.’
I hope you seek your lyrics for solace, but I also hope you continue to push yourself to grow with them. To share them. To share yourself. I have to admit I was curious, so I looked you up. I think you’re pretty incredible. It would be a shame for you to continue to hide away. The world needs more beauty. More love. Think about that every time you're on the stage and take a deep breath for me. I don’t think I’ve ever believed in anyone more.
Let the stars guide you,
Cece
I wish I’d responded right away. It was one of the most beautiful letters I’d ever received, but it took a while to get the courage to write back to her. I’d already taken enough of her precious time. Or maybe A.I.’s . . absolutely not, there was no way A.I. had written that—there was heart and soul dripping off of it. And if I was wrong, then I wanted to stay blissfully ignorant.
And while I knew she wasn’t a Dear Abby service, I craved to put pen to paper again so I could hear from her again. I felt certain she would understand the pressures I was going through as an artist. And no one gave advice like LaRue.
Romance books don’t get enough credit, some people call them fluff, but the comfort and escape they provided helped to inspire my creativity. After I finished a book, lyrics poured out of me. Inspiration striking deep in my soul. I sighed, turning another page of the heartfelt prose before me.
He strode over to her with a fire in his eyes. An urgency had reached his lips. As if the words had to be released from his soul. “Malia, you’re perfect just the way you are. I’ve thought that from the first moment I saw you. I–”
“Am I interrupting something?” A creak startled me, and I grabbed the coarse ropes on the sides of my hammock. Standing on the deck in front of me was my Uncle Louis. His fedora and suspenders cast a cool shadow over my reading nook. “That was an awfully big sigh.” His husky chuckle eased the tension in my muscles.
I let out a little squeal, springing out of my hammock to give him a hug. I always felt like a carefree kid again when he was around. Having him back on the island had been one of my biggest blessings. “ʻAnakala, you scared me,” I laughed.
“Yeah, I saw that. Seems like you were pretty invested in that book,” he teased. “I didn’t know the heat affected you so much.” He smiled wickedly as he pointed toward my rosy cheeks.
I swatted his hand away as I sat back down. He took a seat on the porch swing, looking way cooler than anyone had a right to be. Louis had this inherent charisma about him–yet he was always so unassuming, which only seemed to amplify his effect. Even in his mid-seventies, his charm hadn’t wavered. And it carried over to his music career, too. He had such a magnetic stage presence that I had tried to imitate his style growing up. But I couldn’t duplicate his charm. Swagger was the one thing he couldn’t teach me.
Louis moved back to Hawaii from the mainland when my attacks had gradually gotten worse. He was the one I called on for help, especially for questions and concerns about my music career. And he always showed up for me. He’d given me my first ukulele and then taught me how to play it. He’d helped me find music when I needed it most. How to channel the healing powers of music to soothe my anxiety. When I had felt like an outcast growing up, he and music were always there for me. They understood me in a way no one else could.
When Louis told our family he was ready to retire and move back home, a weight lifted off of me. But deep down, I knew he was really moving back because he was worried about me. He wanted to help me navigate this part of my career. And I couldn’t be more grateful to him for his help and support.
We fell into a harmonious rhythm, just like he’d never left. My front porch held our ‘privately reserved’ hammock chairs. It was a spot that served as a therapy retreat. And the comfortable surroundings allowed me to open up to Louis about my crushing anxiety as an adult. Finally feeling safe enough to open up about my life: my career, my love life, and especially my panic attacks. I knew Louis wouldn’t think I was ‘being dramatic’ or ‘weak’ when I shared my truth with him.
I closed my book and showed him the cover, knowing he’d be amused at my reading choice. For a book so deep, the cover was . . . surprising. It gave off a sweeping romance vibe like something on the shelf of an 80s bookstore. But what could you tell from a book’s cover? Looking at it, I sure wouldn’t have thought the book contained any significant issues between its pages. They certainly weren’t mentioned in the blurb. Maybe the point was to disguise some of its weighty issues.
Louis’ smile grew when he saw the cover. “I really should get one of those for Kelani, if you don’t think it would make me look too bad.” He nudged me playfully from his swing.
Even though my ‘anakala was in his late seventies, he still had game. ‘Big-time’ game. Maybe it was a musician thing. Musicians never seemed to lose their swag, except for me. I never had any to begin with. I was too shy. Lyrics were how I expressed myself, and the stage was my ‘safe’ social interaction. But in answer to Louis’s question, I knew better than to believe a book could ever make him look bad. The story of how he’d recently been reunited with his first love was even more romantic than any of the books I’d been reading.
Louis looked at me with a creased brow. “I’m glad you’re getting some time to relax. But I know you, Luna, you only break out the romance books when things are bad. And you re-read Cece when things are dire.”
Yes, Louis knew me all too well. Actually, he knew me better than anyone. Romance books were my therapy. And Cece was the best therapist of them all.
I sighed and fished my phone out. The one I had tried to lose in the plush cushions. Hoping a black hole would magically appear and suck the phone away, along with the people sending me texts.
Slowly, I handed my phone over to Louis, chuckling when I noticed him trying to unlock it using his facial features. People said I looked like him, so it was a nice try. With his goofy grin, he pointed the phone up at me and I couldn’t help but smile. That Louis charm always worked for me.
In a moment’s time, I saw a frown appear across his cool and collected features.
“Luna, what are all these notifications about? What exactly am I looking at?”
We didn’t keep secrets, but I knew he wouldn’t search through my phone. He always waited for me to share things with him. I tucked myself beside him on the porch swing, and started scrolling through the label’s Instagram feed. Then the text messages from my manager, Steve.
“Honey, why is your ex-boyfriend photographed beside you on these Instagram posts? And why is Steve texting you about boosting your career and doing what is best for the label?” I watched as a protective edge took over his features.
“It’s complicated.” I sighed.
“Doesn’t look complicated, ku’uipo. Looks like they’re using you . . . again. Because they think they can. Niceness should never be confused with weakness.” He began forcefully pushing up his rolled shirt sleeves as if preparing for battle.
My lips tried to smile reassuringly at him. “Ever since Azul's big summer hit, he's been the label’s number one ukulele star. So, they want to promote us together. And they’d like us to ‘conveniently’ get back together for the festival. Apparently, romance sells.”
A grimace crossed over Louis’s facial features. He’d been pushed around more than his share when he was starting out in his career as a Black jazz musician. He’d told me all about his experiences and how important it was for me to ‘stand up’ for myself. Louis had broken into the world of jazz music when playing the ukulele wasn’t a very popular instrument to play. And Louis had been an enormous influence on my music, teaching me most everything I knew about jazz music. My education came from lying around on our family’s shag carpet and listening to the jazz greats on vinyl while he talked about music theory and music history. The real story behind the music. And he never missed a video call opportunity to teach me new jazz chords on the ukelele.
“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t want you anywhere near that guy. It’s bad enough you have to do this music festival. No.” Louis’ veins began protruding slightly in his forearms. He was the only one I’d confided in about the truth behind my ‘glamorous relationship.’
My eyes shyly looked over to him. I hated feeling like I didn’t have any control with my label, especially regarding my own music. “It’s just one, long weekend. I need this contract. I can’t make it on my own.”
“No.” His jaw tightened. Water started blurring my vision and the vulnerability I felt was pushing me toward the edge. A heavy tightness taking over my chest. The familiar darkness clouded me. He softened and reached for my hand. “No, Luna. Together we will find a way.”
Luna- Age 32
“Babe!”
I’ll never forget the moment I heard Azul’s ecstatic voice call out to me from my living room. I’d been in the kitchen making us a snack when his voice called out to me. He pretended to be tired of going out in public and ‘getting noticed,’ but I think he really just enjoyed seeing me be domesticated. Especially since people hardly ever took notice of us or bothered us on the island, unless Azul brought us to their attention. The people here always tried to be respectful of our privacy.
I lowered the kitchen utensils slowly, reaching for the drinks I had prepared, and breathed out as I slowly walked into the living room. There, I found Azul hunched over my coffee table, papers in hand. His grinning face immediately looked up at me.
“Babe, this is amazing! You’ve got a great start here. And I’m . . . Wow . . . I’m so flattered.”
My stomach bottomed out. It felt like the glass tumblers I carried were going to slide out of my hands as perspiration etched their rounded surfaces.
I quickly set the glasses on the coffee table, a loud thud resonating from their hard contact, and swept up the rest of the loose papers. Completely oblivious, Azul began reading what was left in his hands. His glee wasn’t diminished in the slightest.
Always been told what I needed in life
Always been told how I should be loved right
But love isn't so simple
At least not to a heart like mine
Never been treated right
Not by those type of guys
Never been much of a woman to stand by a man's side
Just for the status, just for the privilege, just for the right
Because behind closed doors is different
And there I'd blissfully evaporate into the ether
I stay because I'm loyal, because I’m a ‘healer’
because I'm a pleaser, because I'm stuck in a fever
But with you, everything is new
With you, I feel I've come unglued
In a room full of people, no one is equal
I see everyone else has just been the prequel
Because there I realize
You'd never push my dreams aside
Or expect me to compromise
And I'll never be able to hide it
As much as I've been told to fight it
You are the only man I could love
Forever and always
He looked up at me as he stopped reading. An emotional look clouded his eyes. One I’d never seen before. “Luna, what’s the title? This is such a great start,” he repeated.
“It’s nothing.” I tried to downplay the situation as I reached for the papers again. A frustrated sigh escaped me when he pulled the papers away from me. An internal heat filling me like a ball of shame. I’d been at a restaurant with my family when I’d seen my childhood love for the first time in a very long time. He’d been working behind the bar, serving drinks. I doubt he saw me, but all my childhood feelings about him came flooding back. I knew I was playing with fire when I wrote this song. And now I knew what it felt like to get burned. But maybe I’d wanted to feel the flame. Feel something, anything again.
“Babe.” Azul tipped his head and snapped his fingers impatiently in front of me.
“The Only Man I Could Love,” I told him slowly. Painfully.
He murmured the title back to me as if English were new to him. Then he pulled me toward him. Sweetly softening his booming tone. “This could be such an amazing duet. We could finish it together.” Finish? My mind was screaming as I looked at the pages in his massive hands.
I shook my head, a visceral response overcoming me. This was sacred territory, a piece of me he wasn’t getting. But I was frozen yet again. Like Ariel, whose voice had been taken away. That’s how I felt with him.
He looked at me, determined to change my mind. Or to conveniently interpret my response as a lack of self-confidence. “Don’t worry, Babe, it will be amazing. We’ll make sure of it. I’ll change my section to the type of woman I could love. It will be such a beautiful ballad for the summer. The label will eat it up.” He pulled me onto the sofa beside him, crinkling my papers. As if the thought of him changing the words to my song was supposed to be this huge romantic gesture from him. As if a musician like him admitting his feelings in front of the world was the ultimate gift for a woman like me.
And I continued to stay frozen as he kissed me to celebrate, pushing me further into the sofa and his victory. As his body and a crushing anxiety weighed on top of me, I could only wonder . . . What had I just done?
Chapter 3-Reef
With love, he wanted to trust his gut, but it felt broken. That’s why he needed lightning in a bottle to wake him up. And from that very first moment, she was it. -Cece LaRue, Pacific Pulse
I was crouched below the bar, re-stocking, when I heard a familiar, deep voice. A smile couldn’t help but spread across my face. And when I felt a napkin hit me on the back, my suspicions were confirmed.
“Locke,” I said before I even got eye level with the bar counter. I knew my best friend’s signature greeting by now. He was one of the few people who preferred coming to the bar during off hours. And he came even less now that he had found his special someone. I had to admit, I was a little jealous. Okay, maybe a lot. Locke had been able to get out of his comfort zone to meet his fiancée, so I hoped I could do the same. I wanted the type of relationship he had with Guin. Locke had been waiting on the right wahine, but that wasn’t my problem. I was just too scared to try. Again. I preferred my safe “what if” fantasy. Freud would love analyzing me.
“Hey, Man, I see you’re throwing away perfectly good manuscripts again.” He eyed my sad, rejected wads in the waste can.
“Shhhh.” I could already feel my neck burning and he’d only been here for two minutes. We’d known each other since we were babies. We literally had our diapers changed together by our grandmothers, who were the best of friends. So, he knew how to paint shades of red on my face better than anyone. And he took great pleasure in this particular talent of his.
“I don’t understand. You’re super-talented. I mean, you’re a bestseller. Isn’t it time to just come clean, Cece?” Locke grinned as his voice grew.
“Lawa, Locke.” I shushed him, knowing my whispers of ‘enough’ would never work. The last thing I needed was for people to overhear him saying my pen name. But my plea only made Locke’s laugh boom out louder.
“Man, I know women already flock to you, but seriously, you wouldn’t be able to keep them away if they knew. We could have a bartending bachelor show. The YouTube royalties would be pretty outstanding.”
Locke continued with his newfound confidence. “It would be nice not to have to keep this secret. Unless you think women wouldn’t want to buy romance from a male author, I don’t really see a downside to it. Plus, the person you’re writing about could finally see—”
“Alright, Locke. Hâmau.” But I knew my attempt to ‘silence him’ wouldn’t do one iota of good. “Just because you’re feeling cocky enough to come back to the bar now that you have Guin doesn’t mean you can spill all my secrets.” I fired my brotherly shot back.
Before Guin, Locke had a Pavlovian aversion to the bar. I’d kept trying to rip the bandage off and plunge him into the dating world, but it was like trying to swim against a riptide. Now, he was obviously feeling way too comfortable here. I’d take it though, considering the alternative. Honestly, if we weren’t giving each other a hard time, then something was wrong. And Locke had been pretty great about the Cece thing. He could have done some serious damage with that one. That was the nice thing about Ohana, ‘family’ always knew what was too tender to touch.
“Well, I’ve read all of your work, Cece . . . Or do you prefer Ms. LaRue? “He teased. “And it still seems very apparent what island girl you’re writing about,” the volume of his voice still increased, and I scowled at him. It had been such a mistake letting him read my books. Although with Locke, there really was no ‘letting.’ He’d probably read the books aloud to Guin, too, while she was recovering from transplant surgery.
I looked around, relieved that Nalu had gone to the back, leaving Locke and me alone at the open-air bar. The salty Maui breeze was providing my ever-growing warm skin some cool relief.
“Locke, why did you come to the bar today?” I sighed. I loved this guy like a brother, but something was up. He usually just called or texted if he wanted to go surfing or just to hang out. Locke was a man of few words and activities.
“Can’t a buddy just come by—”
“You’re ridiculously transparent, Locke. I know you. You never just ‘drop by.’ You’re either out surfing or with Guin, so what’s going on with you?” I looked around nervously, anticipating Nalu’s return.
“Ok, fine. But Reef, you really should just tell her. That’s my sage advice.” I eyed him, because I was pretty sure we’d had this same conversation at the beginning of his relationship when he hadn’t been ready to share anything with Guin about his physical disability. I lobbed a raised eyebrow right back at him. Most of our conversations were like a heated family game night Ping-pong match.
“Fine,” he emphasized. “I’m here because Louis is worried about Luna and he asked if we, well, you, might be able to help.”
Luna. Her name shot through me like a jolt of electricity. My senses became amplified as a starburst of colors from the sunset's glow wrapped us in its warm buttery hues. Images from our childhood flooded my memory, and it felt like I’d been drawn under a golden haze. Everything else around me was eclipsed by this serene, warm glow. That was, until Locke burst through it.
“Reef?” He waved a hand in front of me.
“Why me?” My eyes snapped into focus as tidal waves of emotion rushed through me.
“Well, Louis’ hoping to find someone who can look out for her. She has this upcoming ukulele festival, and things have gotten out of hand with it. He’s really concerned about her. Louis thought maybe I could help with Luna, but I don’t want to leave Guin. And since my grandmother needs more help right now, Louis wants to be able to stay with her. So, I suggested that you might be able to help. Louis wants someone Luna will be comfortable with. So you’re perfect. What better person to be her bodyguard? You’ve certainly been memorizing her body for long enough,” he finished cheekily.
I rolled my eyes upward with a huge sigh. “What part of me says bodyguard, Locke.” I spread out my arms so he could survey my lanky frame. My thick, black-rimmed glasses completing the look. “And what makes you think this is a wonderful idea? We haven’t even talked to each other since we were kids. Recent pleasantries hardly count. Not for something like this.”
“Says the man who is writing romance books about her. Hoping he’ll get another shot. I think a wahine could get comfortable with that pretty quickly.”
“You don’t know Cece’s intentions. That’s why they call it fiction,” I barbed back.
But he just stared at me with his penetrating gaze. “Oh, come on, everyone is comfortable with you. Plus, she always holds her ukulele’s welcome gatherings here. Seems to me she’s finding reasons to come here–”
“We have fantastic food and drink–”
He cut me off right away. “No. You’ve done this for way too long. I see the way she looks at you. It’s obvious she wants to reconnect. Now, here’s the perfect opportunity. The chance you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been writing about it for so long, I guess you willed it to happen.” He smirked.
I hesitated. As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted to see if he was right. Finally, I asked, “What exactly is the opportunity?”
“Uh, I think it’s best for Luna to tell you.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “She’s been struggling. It’s one reason Louis moved back here. Those two have always been pretty close. Now her manager is pushing her to do a concert she doesn't want to do, with a pretty personal song. They’re determined to turn it into a romantic duet and a publicity stunt with another musician who is under the same management contract.”
I nodded, as if I knew anything about her world. The closest I came to her world was being managed, and enduring the pressure of editing deadlines. Not exactly the same. But I knew what it felt like to lose control over your creative license–not having the final say on your work, and not being able to spark new material. However, that probably paled in comparison to what was happening to Luna. She was a big name in the world of ukulele. Scratch that–she was a ukulele icon. Little girls all over the island wanted to be just like her.
“I still don’t see what I’m supposed to do.” Self-consciously my eyes looked down at my rolled-up shirtsleeves, they certainly didn’t stretch tautly across my forearms like Locke’s did. I wasn’t a protector. I’d always been the nerdy, awkward guy. And I made up for it with my friendly–albeit quirky–personality. Locke was the one to fill the role of protector. He was the ripped bodybuilder. They had this all wrong.
Locke could see my wheels turning. “Louis is afraid of how far management will push things. They don’t seem to really take her well-being into consideration. She’s more of a commodity to them. Merchandise. And as you know, romance sells. The song she wrote is pretty hopelessly romantic. Perfect for their marketing schemes. Sounds like somebody I know.” He said cheekily.
“One More Hour,” I uttered without hesitation. He eyed me curiously. But of course, it was that one. The song would make a perfect duet. Embarrassingly enough, I knew all her music. At least every song that she had released and especially the ones she had written when we were kids. I sometimes even listened to her discography as I wrote. She was my muse, after all.
“Reef–” Locke’s chocolate eyes showed enough empathy to weaken me.
“Locke, just continue,” I said in defeat. I threw a bar towel over my shoulder–one of my nervous ticks–and tidied up.
But he reached for my arm and stopped me. Such a juxtaposing friendship–Locke, a hulk of a guy, and I, the stereotypical poet. My gawky stature had been highlighted growing up next to him. Surfing with Locke helped, but I still felt like the unathletic guy who’d rather be discussing a literary phrase.
“Reef, why don’t you just talk to her?”
“Not what we’re talking about, Locke.” I pulled away, continuing to keep tidy up.
He sighed. “Fine.” Ironically, the advice tables had turned since he had found Guin. Now, he was the one giving dating advice. The guy who had run from all women. “Well, Louis is afraid of how far the label will take things. He says publicity stunts get out-of-hand fast and they haven’t always treated Luna well in the past. He thinks they will want to market her and this guy as a couple.”
The glass in my hand dropped and shattered across the patio floor as I remembered the photos of her with other men in the press. The glass landed as hard as that news had felt against my heart. I could feel my chest constricting.
Luna had always been a free spirit, but she was so sweet that her polite and people pleasing nature always won out, even above her own well-being. I knew she’d do whatever the label asked and that guy could probably take whatever advantage he liked. But I didn’t look like the type of guy to step in and stop it. No one will believe it for a minute. Luna was such a beautiful woman. She had her photo splayed across ukulele and musician magazines. And those copies sold fast. Who would buy that she could have such a nerdy, dorky guy as a bodyguard?
“Reef?” Locke called out to me, but I couldn’t hear him. Then I felt him trying to unclench my fist as he said, “Well, that was quite a response. I’m guessing I can tell Louis you’ll do it?”
I heard Nalu’s footsteps coming over to see about the loud commotion from the dropped glass. That snapped me out of it, not wanting her to clean up my mess. I quickly took the broom and dustbin from her, explaining that Locke and I were just fooling around. She eyed me curiously.
I bent down to collect the little shards, feeling equally broken. This was about Luna, the only woman I’d ever loved. I looked up at Locke as I picked up the fragile pieces. My voice came out soft, though stronger than I’d imagined it could be. “What do I need to do?”
Reef- Age 12
The Hawaiian sun was burning bright in the sky as its rays beat down on me. The heat only intensified the longer I sat watching and waiting on my tiny front porch steps. My anticipation built like the humidity before an intense storm. And the more I waited, the stronger the storm brewed.
I’d only received short text messages from Luna this week, and definitely no letters. My heart had dropped a little lower each time I went to my mailbox and found it empty of any song lyrics waiting for me. But Saturday was always our day. It was as dependable as the sun rising.
But soon the fiery ball in the sky started dropping and my legs were beginning to go numb. When I saw Locke walking down my driveway instead of Luna, I couldn’t hold back the burning in my eyes. No.
“Reef, I–” Locke began, twisting his hands, his muscular build towering over me.
My throat went dry. “She could have told me herself–If she doesn’t want to–”
“Reef, it’s not what you think. Her family left for the big island today. I’m not sure for how long. I overheard my parents talking about it. Apparently, her family isn’t telling anyone. Maybe they fell on hard times.”
“So, then she’ll be coming back? When things get better. Why didn’t she–” But the look on his face told me exactly why.
I swallowed hard. This was a ‘clean break.’ Except my heart felt splayed across the dirt driveway. Already collecting debris.
My head kept shaking as Locke reached for me, grabbing my arm as I began running down the road. “Reef! There must be a reason she wanted it this way–”
His voice became muffled as the blood pounded in my ears. My breathing was ragged and labored when I reached her house, pumping legs slowing only as I neared her windows. All of my cells screamed not to look inside, but I had to know. And when I did, everything looked as hollow as I felt. She was gone, and it suddenly felt like the best parts of me left with her.
Chapter 4-Reef
She slips in and out of my memory
Like a distant reverie
A word, a sound, a smell
All brings her back to me
She's my everything.
-Reef Akua, The Muse
After I agreed to hear Louis’ plan, Locke stayed at the bar for the rest of my shift. I guess he thought I was a flight risk. He must have texted Louis that he would secure me, like I was an “asset” that needed to be contained. But Locke knew I’d do anything to help Luna. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Although, ‘plan’ was very generous terminology. Locke had been pretty cryptic in his details. He just said we could meet with Louis after my shift to sort it all out. I should have known, these two were known for both their imagination and matchmaking. Well, at least where Locke was concerned. He had such a good heart, but his hair-brained ideas didn’t always execute well.
With thoughts of his disastrous matchmaking bouncing around my brain, my shift became an utter disaster. I couldn’t focus on anything except for the beautiful Hawaiian woman of my dreams, and from my romance pages, too. And from what I had seen, time had been extremely kind to her. An undeniable elegance and grace emanated from her. She was like a classic movie star with a tropical twist.
Gone was the young girl who used to race down to the beach for sand castle competitions and who started mud fights in the streams. In her place was a classy, sophisticated woman. One who seemed exhausted from having to be “on” all the time. My mind flashed back to humid Hawaiian days from long ago, filled with fond memories of her. And a contagious grin appeared on my face.
Finally, Nalu took mercy on me. “Reef, I’ll cover the rest of your shift.” She eyed a Bloody Mary that didn’t have any “blood” in it. I guess she realized something was off and we wouldn’t be making any tips this way. Or maybe she thought I was rushing to get through my shift.
“No, I don’t want to leave you alone.” I reassured Nalu as I eyed Locke.
“Yeah, because we have such a rush,” Nalu said, looking around. “And because you’ve been so helpful,” she smirked. I blanched. My distractions had led to an array of wrong cocktail mixes tonight. Nalu continued, “It’s fine, Reef, go on. I think the patrons would really appreciate it, too.”
I thanked her and handed over my apron. Nalu curiously glanced my way when Locke led me out of the bar with his hand firmly grasped on my shoulder. Even Houdini would test his limits trying to get out of Locke’s grasp.
“Locke, I have a car,” I said as he pointed towards his Jeep. This would be the one time I didn’t want him to be a man of few words. But as he led the way, I just shrugged, knowing it was pointless to argue with him.
Taking the path of least resistance, or the one without a Thor-sized-obstacle, I got in his car. My mind whirled around my impromptu decision. Only an idiot would do such a thing in my position. It was like putting an amateur in the ring with Sugar Ray. I winced as I rubbed my chest over my heart, still feeling the sting from last time. Wounds that hadn’t healed, and probably never would.
Locke was driving the winding roads at his usual breakneck speed. But the evening air felt soothing as it whipped around us. The celestial charm of the night sky called to me, the moon reminding me of my first love.
It didn’t take many hairpin curves for me to realize that this wasn’t the way to Louis’ house. A screeching kettle sounded in my brain. It coincided nicely with my head popping out of the sunroof just as Locke took a bump too quickly.
“Locke, seriously, when are you going to start driving more like a regular islander? You know, drive on relaxed island time? It’s not like I’ll jump out of the Jeep to escape if you slow down. There’s a reason I don’t write thrillers.”
Locke began laughing. “Yeah, you aren’t naturally inclined to be adventurous. I could go five miles per hour and that still wouldn’t happen. You can cross ‘stunt man’ off your career list.”
“Thanks. I guess that’s why I’m a writer. I live through things from the comfort of my chair. The only action going on is the wear and tear on the page.”
His laughter only grew. “Good to know you’re getting action somewhere.”
“That’s not what I meant. You sure can turn anything around.”
“Seriously man, you haven’t dated in forever. Come to think of it, you’ve never dated, unless I missed something. How do you manage to write bestselling romances?”
“Hilarious, just watch the road, Batman.” But he kept glancing over at me for clues, and that along with his frantic driving made me nervous. This was certainly a creative way to get people to talk. I responded, “No, ok. I haven’t. Not really. But at least I've wing-manned plenty of people. Same thing.”
“No. Um, really, not at all. And how is that possible? Women throw themselves at your adorable puppy dog face. Every time I’m at the bar, you get at least a couple of numbers a night. Not all telephone numbers, either.” Locke looked at me curiously, completely bewildered.
“I’m just not interested. Who wants a one-night stand? Or to be someone’s holiday fling? Only tourists come through here. Not all of us are interested in tourists.” I looked at Locke pointedly.
“Don’t judge until you try it. Mine stayed. And there are some really nice island girls. I see the way Nalu looks at you. Or is she just not the right island girl?”
I was getting annoyed with his accuracy. Since when did his mixology analysis get so . . . annoyingly insightful? I countered, “No comment. Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”
“I do remember one summer when you sort of had a girlfriend,” Locke said in his sing-song tone, completely ignoring me.
“Locke, I was twelve. Doesn’t count if you’re not even through puberty.”
“Yeah, it does, especially if you kissed her. Apparently, that’s all it took.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but I couldn’t get a word out. Because I just realized where he had taken me, to a tiny community on our island. And I was looking at a lavender front door. A cozy porch with twinkling lights and matching hammock chairs invited you to stay. An eclectic little townhouse shouted her name. Luna. And my body went rigid.
Reef- Age 7
“He’ll never get down from that tree! Whatcha want to bet me?” a boy down below bellowed.
“It’s Reef, so I’m not taking that bet. I’m not losing my Gameboy to you again,” another boy called out, as if this was a foregone conclusion.
Locke had gone off in search of an adult to help with the situation and I prayed that the adult would be his grandma, and not my father. I could envision my dad now: hand in pockets, shoulders painfully straight, as he stared up at me and shook his head. I could even hear his words: ‘Stop embarrassing me, even your sister could do better. Get yourself out of that tree like a man. Now!’ The ‘now’ would be sharp with warning. Letting me know every last shred of his non-existent patience for me was gone. My little stunt would ‘wreck’ his weekend and I’d pay for it.
My eyes searched the crowd, praying for a miracle, hoping that Locke would magically appear. After all, he was the one who had dared me up here. He was officially responsible for getting me down. I didn’t care if it was his birthday party.
The boys' cackles became louder, but I had gotten pretty good at tuning them out. My dad’s lack of faith in me had been excellent practice. It was like they had sensed my insecurity from day one; the quietness I’d adopted was like a beacon drawing them to me.
Just as I had made peace with the idea that I might be sleeping up here, I saw a tiny figure appear out of the corner of my eye, climbing up the trunk of the tree. I squinted harder, shielding my face from the rays to see who it was. . . a tiny girl in a purple floral dress. And she was moving quickly, using everything she had to her advantage to get to me. I caught a flash of her determined expression and knew instantly who it was. Luna. The girl from our housewarming party. And she was coming for me.
Down below, I saw Locke appear in the crowd with his tutu. He and his ‘grandmother’ were both staring up in awe. Before I knew it, Luna was at the base of my tree branch. Her chocolate eyes, peppered with green, were sparkling with the most magical safety flare I’d ever seen. There wasn’t any pity or disappointment in those gorgeous pools. And I wanted to get lost in them.
But all I could do was cling more tightly to the tree branch like a scared little monkey, my eyes wider than a bush baby’s. Without breaking eye contact, she delicately extended a small hand to me. Unfurling each of her tiny fingers like a life line being flung out into a raging sea.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered when I didn’t move. Her rose-colored lips moved seamlessly. And that’s when I knew. She was different from anyone else I’d ever met. I’d known it from the second she’d made that fairy crown with me. But this . . . she was obviously a pretty special person. And my soul tethered itself to hers.
“Reef,” she said when I didn’t blink, consumed by her beauty. Now ready to stay on this branch with her for eternity. It didn’t seem so bad anymore. Definitely not scary. Not with her.
“Stay with me.” The words slipped out so quickly that they escaped my soul on an exhale. An inaudible whisper. Only my lips made the shape, feeling them out. Not even knowing what those words would mean for me.
“What?” she asked as she tried to inch closer to me and everyone gasped down below. I guess I’d officially made Locke's party memorable.
“Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat as I took her hand. A symphony of serotonin overtaking me.
Coming Soon! Add it to your list to read on Goodreads list and other sites for updates!
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𝙎𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙𝙮, 𝙧𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝘾𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧-𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧?
Reef has been in love with Luna since they were kids. As a secret romance novelist, he pours his unrequited feelings into his books, reliving their love on the page. But when Luna's uncle proposes a fake relationship to thwart a PR stunt, Reef's wildest dreams and worst fears collide.
Luna never stopped loving Reef, even when she broke his heart to protect him. Music became her refuge, but fame brought unexpected complications. Now, fate has brought them back together, and the demons of their past threaten to consume them both.
As Reef and Luna navigate their rekindled feelings amidst a whirlwind of secrets, heartache, and desire, they'll discover that sometimes reality is even more extraordinary than fiction. But when the truth comes to light, will their love survive, or will they wish they'd left the past buried in the sands of time?
The Heartbeats of Aloha is a poignant, swoon-worthy standalone in the International Soulmate series. Immerse yourself in:
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A heart-melting second chance romance
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The lush, tropical beauty of Hawaii
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A fake relationship that feels all too real
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Deep, nuanced portrayals of mental health and disability
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Unforgettable characters, including an adorable canine companion
If you love emotional journeys filled with tender moments, sizzling chemistry, and the healing power of love, then Brooke Gilbert's moving story is a must-read.
Let the rhythm of the islands guide you to your next great romance. Grab The Heartbeats of Aloha today and lose yourself in Reef and Luna's unforgettable love story!
Content note: This book contains discussions of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks.
