It's no surprise that Candace is dreading returning to her "real" life. When her recent days have been filled with the sun's caress and the smell of plumeria, it is impossible to imagine she could leave that magic behind. Especially when the life waiting for her holds nothing nearly as exciting as Adrian, the server who works at Waikiki's beachside icon, Tiwaka's Tiki Bar & Grill.But, it's not just the promise of romance that is making the thought of leaving painful. There is something peculiar and wonderful about the island. Candace feels it all around her and especially when she meets Bucky, an older man on the verge of homelessness who seems to recognize her, and a woman crying on the beach to whom she's oddly drawn. With Adrian and Bucky's help, Candace discovers the truth of why she feels so at home on the island, but, most importantly, she learns that love has no boundaries... not even those of time.
had only painted for a lover, long since passed. Untouched canvas
had called to him every morning, waiting out his grief.
sunrises had tried to convince him to come back, many bright moons
had worked diligently on his imagination. He would always
acknowledge their supplications, and always found a distraction
somewhere else. Until recently.
returned to his small wooden stool. The brushes stood tall and
ready. His oils sat patiently on the palette awaiting his command,
though still silently suggesting their placements.
his work had recently caught the attention of the village, and the
neighboring towns. Art students flocked to his easel to watch him
work. Young women brought him pastries, and smiling older women
bumped up against him in the marketplace. Jealous men stared at him
as if he were some kind of thief.
Paperback and Kindle eBooks Now Available Book 1: Leaving Lana'i
“I should be dead. Again...”
...and so this new SERIES begins, on the Hawaiian islands of Lana'i and Maui. A billionaire private island owner, an escaped DNA-altered scientist and at every corner
Meet Agent James Boudreaux, an officer with an
undisclosed affiliation to an American intelligence service.
He's a little rough around the edges, funny,
super-observant, and sometimes wrong.
a chapter from Book 3 in the Agent Boudreaux series as he flies in on a small commuter plane from Maui...on his way to Lana'i
Honolulu from the air, reflecting an afternoon sun, glows majestic in its march from the mountains to the sea. The little plane bounces around on the air stirred mischiefly by that rear guard. If their destination is indeed the big blue below I, for one, would not fault the idea.
As we approach for landing, the details quash the mystical with concrete and cars, but I've already been kissed. It's a familiar love, one from my early days when adventure was composed of only youth and the living of it.
Different worlds, on the same planet.
We taxi up to a small commuter terminal, spend an hour sorting out who goes where, fueling, changing crews and aircraft. The small dogs all parade just in front of their owners, apparently knowing where to go.
I find the first water fountain I can, which is difficult these days, as they have gone the way of the pay phone. I don't want it from a bottle, but from this island, the aquifer below those mountains. I need to taste her again, if only in passing.
Leaving again, I sit in the front row, with a nice view through the open cockpit ahead. Taxiing out to the reef runway, we line up with Diamond Head, and an ascending full moon.
Namesake, Uncle James "Spitball" Boudreaux of the 1920s Chicago Cubs, was often accused of doctoring the balls he pitched (especially to the NY Yankees). However, recently declassified FBI documents prove what Aunt Tarilla knew all along - he was signalling his FBI handler behind home plate. [this particular signal: don't order the pepperoni pizza from Luigi's on 4th] * Future pictures will focus on the exotic methods of signalling embedded in advertisements, sports maneuvers and disco dancing! #AgentBoudreaux#spy#thriller
a successful application of a crazy idea: Cousin Alexander's "Navigationally Universal Transmission Service" or NUTS proved quite useful to the Cold War western alliances attempting to eavesdrop on their Soviet counterparts - at first. Unfortunately, it was difficult (no, actually impossible) to approach a suspected spy den without invoking espionage-stopping laughter from said Soviets. Thus, the award. He did a great service for the cause through comedic distraction.
* great-great-grandfather Horris, having lost all 10 toes while attempting to summit Strawberry Hill in the dead of winter refused to live the remaining eighty years of his life as an invalid. His "roller coasters" easily propelled him from one circus venue to another but also generated enough electricity to power the encrypted radio transmitter hidden just under his stylish hat. He was subsequently awarded the good Queen's Medal of Awesomeness. #AgentBoudreaux#spy#thriller
Always willing to help the war effort, distant cousin Jamila, convinced she could receive enemy radio transmissions telepathically volunteered for a Top Secret experiment to determine when enemy aircraft were approaching. Weeks later with the invention of RADAR, Jamila was discreetly returned to her hobbit cave south of London with a polite thank you note, 100 pounds Sterling and a strict admonishment to never speak of this embarrassing test. #AgentBoudreaux#spy#thriller