Making Waves

Book 0: Men of Rogues Hollow

by Donna Kauffman

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Holiday Romance

Synopsis

Previously appeared in Merry Christmas, Baby
 
When his chief crewman sails off into the sunset for a luxurious high-paying Yuletide gig, the last thing brand-new yacht captain Burke Morgan needs is a last-minute replacement cook. Not to mention one who also suffers from motion sickness. On the other hand, a holiday menu limited to scrambled eggs and cold sandwiches won't cut it. And once he sets eyes on beautiful Kamala Apolo—and tastes her mouthwatering cooking—he's practically knocked off his sea legs.
 
Dashing and flirtatious, Burke is far from the grandfatherly type Kamala was expecting. But she'll have to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay if she wants to do her job, avoid getting sea sick—and maybe even find love, just in time for Christmas . . .
 
Praise for Donna Kauffman
 
“Charming characters, emotion galore, a small town—you're going to love Donna Kauffman!”
—Lori Foster
 
 “We all know where there's Donna Kauffman, there's a rollicking, sexy read chock‑full of charm and sparkle.”
—USAToday.com


 
  

 

Release date: September 29, 2020

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 77

Sample

“You did what?” Burke Morgan stared in disbelief at his chief crewman—his only crewman.

A broad smile creased Dorsey Apolo’s smooth, wide face as he dropped two stuffed duffel bags on the deck next to his feet. “Took a job Down Under, mate.”

The sea breeze whipped at Burke’s hair, and the Caribbean sun beat down on his neck. Another perfect day in paradise. Until a second ago anyway. “First, I can’t tell you how wrong it is for a Polynesian guy to do an Aussie accent. And a bad one at that. But more wrong is you ditching me on the eve of our first tour.” He motioned to the bags at Dorsey’s feet. “When did you get the offer? When were you going to tell me?”

“I’m telling you now. And I’m sorry, bruddah. Truly.”

Burke snorted. Dorsey was all but vibrating with excitement. His dark eyes were gleaming, and he was fidgeting like a toddler. A big man with a graying braid that hung halfway down his back and deeply grooved creases fanning out around his dark eyes, he was seventy-five going on twenty-five. It was one of the traits Burke most enjoyed about him. Not as amusing at the moment, however.

“I’ve never sailed down there,” Dorsey said. “You know I’ve always wanted to. We’re going through Whitsunday, in the Barrier Reef. Brand new, forty-seven-foot Chincogan cat,” he said almost dreamily. “One honeymoon couple and I’m captain and crew. Six weeks, then I’ll be back.”

Burke’s eyes bugged. “Six weeks? That’s mid-February. The season will be half over by then. One hell of a honeymoon.”

“Young couple has deep pockets.”

“Which we don’t,” Burke reminded him.

“Yet,” Dorsey said with a wink. “You’re going to make a go of this new enterprise, I’m sure of it. I’ve nothing but faith in you.”

“I’ve got faith in me, too,” Burke replied. “But that faith was partly based on the fact that you were going to crew for me my first season out.” Privately he’d been hoping they’d team up even longer. Burke had been crewing all over the Caribbean and the South Pacific since he’d left home at seventeen. Some kids dreamed of joining the circus, but ever since the time old man Ramsay had taken him out on the Chesapeake Bay fishing, Burke had dreamed of running his own charter. Only somewhere a lot warmer.

He’d hooked up with Dorsey for the first time at nineteen, on a Scandinavian owned charter out of the Lesser Antilles. The two had worked together often in the thirteen years since. The charismatic Hawaiian had been father figure, mentor, compatriot, and brother-in-arms to Burke. He trusted him like he trusted no one else, save perhaps his three brothers.

But his brothers weren’t supposed to help him crew the exceedingly wealthy and very well connected George and Tutti Wetherington around the islands from Christmas through New Years. He’d been counting on Dorsey for that. Heavily. He didn’t realize just how heavily until now. Burke was a decent people person, but his skills were mostly centered around being the dependable, take charge kind of guy that clients could feel comfortable being captained by. Dorsey was the colorful character that clients loved and remembered. His cooking was out of this world, and the wild and oftentimes ribald tales he told of his fiftysome-odd years sailing the tropics charmed clients no matter their income bracket.

“We’ve got bookings straight into March, Dorse, and a lot of the word of mouth that got us those clients was as much for your reputation as it was my ability to steer a damn boat. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Ah, don’t get your trunks in a twist,” Dorsey admonished. “I wouldn’t leave you in dry dock, you know that. I got it covered. My oldest granddaughter, Kamala, is gonna help you out till I get back. And you might not want me back when you get a taste of her cooking.” His grin widened, if that was possible. “She’s a hell of a lot easier on the eyes, too.”

Burke didn’t say anything to that. He’d seen assorted photos of the ever-expanding Apolo clan over the years. They were a hardy, stout bunch, regardless of gender. But her looks didn’t concern him at the moment. His eyes narrowed. “I thought none of your kids or grandkids sailed. You bitch and moan about that every time you come back from a visit home.”

Dorsey was a wanderer, but as a much younger man, he’d managed to stay in Kauai long enough to marry and have three children with his now ex-wife, Lana. He hadn’t been around much for them, or for his seven grandchildren. But now that his older grandchildren were having children, and the years were adding up, he’d started to feel a bit of regret over that. Not that Burke thought for a second that he’d have been capable of staying in one place even if he’d wanted to, but to give the old man credit, since his great-grandchildren had started popping up, he’d made an effort to stay better connected. He went back home when he could, spending longer and longer periods of time there now, during the slow season.

Unlike Burke, who had been home to Virginia only once in the fifteen years since he’d left Rogues Hollow. Escaped, actually. That one visit had been almost exactly a year ago, last Christmas, when his estranged father had passed away. The visit made him miss his brothers more now; seeing them all again had been the only positive part of that holiday trek. The rest he didn’t miss at all. To him, the holiday season meant steady work. Work that he loved. And this Christmas, he’d given himself the best present of all: realizing his dream of captaining his own charter. That was about as sentimental as he got.

“Yes, I know,” Dorsey was saying, unable to hide his unending disappointment. “Two sons and a daughter. Seven grandchildren.” He sighed heavily. “Not a seafarer in the bunch. Where did I go wrong?”

“We are not going there, okay?” Burke had heard this rant more times than he could count. “Besides, I figured if you were going to ditch me, it would be to head home and hold the newest great-grandbaby of yours.”

Dorsey shook his head. “I’m no good with diapers and bottles, brah. I’ll wait until they’re walking and properly housebroken. Old enough to take out on the water and teach them to sail.”

“You don’t give up, I’ll give you that,” Burke said, fighting the smile that was always near the surface when Dorsey was around. “You Apolos don’t believe in waiting too long to start up the production, do you?” They didn’t believe in waiting . . .