Promo: Palehua by A. J. Llewellyn

asian boy with long hair

Lio Paikai, reincarnated warrior of the lost Hawaiian kingdom, finds trouble in paradise. The old island gods demand Pālehua from his family: blood sacrifice.

Lio Paikai is adjusting to both his new, extremely passionate relationship with his lover, Kord Ashley, and his status as ‘Ailani, the reincarnated, loyal warrior who fought for the last king of the Hawaiian islands Oahu and Maui. Having severed his ties with his mother, Kalani, Lio grows closer to his father and his new family, but Kalani won’t leave them alone.

Violating a restraining order of protection, she is arrested. Hours later, when Lio accompanies his stepmother to a birthing class, a strange woman falls from the sky landing on the hood of his SUV. Old wounds, old curses, and the demand for retribution threaten to destroy his entire family. Lio must uncover the identity of the fallen woman and soon learns her heartbreaking connection to his mother and the damage it has caused Kalani her entire life. Lio must right an ancient wrong and appease the old island gods that demand an immediate Pālehua: blood sacrifice.

 

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Excerpt

One hour and five minutes later, we walked out of the house. Marcella kept assuring me I’d done very well as she held my arm. My back, neck, and shoulders ached. I’d had to act out giving birth to a baby-doll while Marcella pretended to be my birthing partner.

I felt sorry for my dad. The way she’d screamed at me gave me every indication that she would be a real Nazi in the delivery room.

I was in total panic. I’d had to pretend to give birth to the fake baby so that I empathized with Marcella’s process, but found the experience so traumatic I didn’t think I’d ever get over it. I kept trying to imagine her vagina opening to a huge, cavernous space as my father massaged the baby’s emerging head with olive oil.

Had he done this for me and Louie? What about Marcella? Wouldn’t the pain be horrendous?

“You did great, sweetie,” she said. “You’re a champion.”

“No, I’m not. I’m a wuss. I couldn’t handle the belly.”

“You were fabulous.”

“Who was better, me or Kord?”

“Oh, sweetie. Don’t do this to yourself.”

“Kord, right?”

She flashed me a guilty look. “Well, he sang show tunes as he delivered.” She frowned suddenly. “I should have realized then that he was gay.”

As we got to the SUV, she peered inside. “Sweetie, do we have any apples in there?”

No, we didn’t, but a quick stop over at Foodland would fix that.

As I let her into the passenger side, I stared across the road at a newish house right on the corner. I had no idea why it held my interest, but I caught a sudden glimpse of ghostly children running across the street to it.

I blinked, and nostalgia filled my soul. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The streets were all gone, and I stared at miles and miles of sugar crops. I was standing on the site of an old plantation.

I saw a flash of a different building right on this corner. It was the kind of old Hawaiian-style building that marked a different era. Painted white and with a red roof, it had a lanai in front. I swear I smelled ice cream and chocolate. I heard laughter.

Across the top I saw in faded lettering the name Goo.

And just like that, the image faded.

When I got into the driver’s side, Marcella said, “What are you seeing, sweetie?”

Shaking my head, I threw off the sudden emotion I felt. “I know it sounds weird, but I got a glimpse of what used to be there.”

“What did you see?”

I hesitated. “A huge sugar plantation. And right where the house is, I saw a shop. A lot of kids went to it. I think it was a kind of soda fountain.”

She reached her hand over to mine. “It was. It was the old Plantation Store, but people called it Charlie Goo’s Store after the owner. It closed about twenty years ago.”

I nodded. A strange, unsettled feeling came over me.

“You think maybe the spirits are getting you ready for a new case?” she asked.

“I’m thinking, maybe.”

We weren’t wrong.

Twenty seconds later, something fell on the hood of the car, making us both scream. It wasn’t a coconut. It wasn’t a bowling bowl. It wasn’t a vagina or even an empathy belly. What fell on my hood and scared the heck out of both of us was a woman. At least, I thought she was.

And she’d fallen out of the clear blue sky.

 

About the Author

A.J. Llewellyn is an author whose obsession with myth, magic, love, and romance might have led to serious stalking charges had it not been for the ability to write. Thanks to the existence of some very patient publishers, A.J.’s days are spent writing, reading, and dreaming up new worlds. AJ has definitely stopped Google searching former boyfriends and given up all ambition to taste-test every cupcake in the universe to produce over 150 published gay erotic romance novels.

A.J. wants you to read them all.

You can find this author lurking on Facebook and Twitter—part-time class clown being another occupation. When not writing or reading, A.J.’s other passions include juggling, kite-boarding, and spending a fortune buying upgrade apps for Diner Dash.

 

A.J.’s links:

http://www.ajllewellyn.com

http://www.twitter.com/ajllewellyn.com

http://www.facebook.com

 

Promo: ‘Ailani by A. J. Llewellyn

asian boy with long hair

After a bad breakup, Lio rents a cheap house with magical views. It seems the perfect solution, but the house has a haunted connection with an ancient statue. Once unearthed, it gives Lio the power of…THE LAST WARRIOR…

When Lio’s lover cheats on him, he’s forced to give up what he thought was the idyllic romance he’s lived with Maks, including their stunning, scenic Waikiki apartment. He rents a cheap house with magical views on the other side of the island. So why is it so cheap?

He soon becomes haunted by dreams in which a fearsome yet sexy Hawaiian man begs him to rescue him. Lio is certain he’s going nuts until one night in the midst of a tropical rainstorm he follows the man’s urgings and digs a hole in a church graveyard. He finds a gigantic, ancient stone statue with scary eyes…that soon gives Lio the power of…THE LAST WARRIOR…

 

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Excerpt

We shared a slice of the pie I’d never tried before. It was like eating a giant orange Creamsicle. That’s when I remembered why Hau’ula was familiar. I’d come here many, many years ago on a school excursion.

“Isn’t there a great trail into the rainforest around here?” I asked him.

“Why, yes.” He grinned at me.

I recalled quite clearly going with my class. We’d bought ice creams from a portable ice cream stand as we were leaving. Orange Creamsicles.

“Do you hike much?” I asked.

“Every chance I get.”

“Wow, that’s great.”

“You like to hike?” he asked, pushing the last bite of pie toward me.

“Yeah, my ex hated it, though.”

“I’m always up for a hike,” he said. “Give me a shout some time.”

Speaking of shouting, the volume rose considerably with some newcomers so we gave up our table. Outside, I inhaled a mouthful of sweet night air.

He was giving me so many mixed signals, or so I thought. Sometimes he reached out to me, then pulled his hand away. I was certain he was staring at my mouth in a hungry way. I sure as hell wanted him to kiss me. He smiled at me a lot. Maybe he was being kind, but I felt certain we were on a date. When he took me to his own home, I didn’t think I was wrong. His beach cottage sat right on the reef, and I was stunned by his uninterrupted view of the ocean.

Kord’s life seemed to be straight out of my childhood. Everything on the walls and sideboards was found art. He’d discovered gigantic shells, sea glass balls, bleached pieces of driftwood that almost looked like antlers. He’d even made a hammock out of an old fisherman’s net.

He showed me his home office, which took up most of the space. He pointed to the garage. “That’s where I build stuff.”

I had a sense he didn’t bring many people here. I almost felt glad I didn’t see any chick stuff. His home spoke of a solitary existence.

“Take a seat.” He pointed outside. I swung in one of the aged rocking chairs on the lanai as he brought me a beer. Longboard. My favorite.

“You had a recent breakup too,” I said. “Isn’t that what you told Marcella?”

“Sure. It never works out for me with women.” He scowled.

“Why’s that? You’re a great guy. Handsome, hard-working—”

“Thanks. That’s part of the problem. I love to work.”

The words swayed between us like a coconut palm. “I have a hard time with women because…because…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t want me to know he was bi. I sensed he didn’t want to give me ideas. It was okay. I didn’t need any. I was too busy licking my own wounds and couldn’t have handled any confusion.

When he dropped me home and kissed me on the lips, I felt my spirit and my body reacting.

“Have a great night,” he said, then watched as I let myself inside Dad’s house.

As I closed and locked the door behind me, I felt something shifting. I couldn’t explain it as I leaned with my back against the blue stained-glass mermaid and felt her coolness seep into my hot skin.

Aaaahhh…something had changed. Something good. I touched my lips. We’d had a great date. No, not a date. He was being kind.

So why did he kiss me?

We’d had a swell time. A gentle time. I hadn’t had such a sweet evening with a man in a very long time. When I’d cleaned my teeth, I fell into bed. I could almost feel his dark hair on my face, his lips on mine. I tasted salty tears. Yeah…something was changing. I didn’t know what.

I dreamed of fishermen’s nets, mad laughter, and mud.

At around three o’clock in the morning, I awoke from a strange dream.

No. They were not coming back. I wouldn’t allow them to come back. Not the dreams. Not those ones. I closed my ears to the voices whispering…

Remember…remember…

I worked very hard to forget. To think of nothing but the soft press of Kord’s lips, wishing for more. So much more.

About the Author

A.J. Llewellyn is an author whose obsession with myth, magic, love, and romance might have led to serious stalking charges had it not been for the ability to write. Thanks to the existence of some very patient publishers, A.J.’s days are spent writing, reading, and dreaming up new worlds. A.J. has definitely stopped Google-searching former boyfriends and given up all ambition to taste-test every cupcake in the universe to produce over 150 published gay erotic romance novels.

A.J. wants you to read them all.

You can find this author lurking on Facebook and Twitter—part-time class clown being another occupation. When not writing or reading, A.J.’s other passions include juggling, kite-boarding, and spending a fortune buying upgrade apps for Diner Dash.

Please connect with A.J. here at:

http://www.ajllewellyn.com

http://www.facebook.com/aj.llewellyn

http://www.twitter.com/ajllewellyn