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Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica
Description: When Alex's plane crashes on Manutea, an unmapped lost continent in the South Pacific, he's thrust into the middle of a fairy-tale like setting with real dragons, a dozen naughty princesses, and an insane king who will behead him if he is unable to solve the mystery of why the princesses wear out their shoes and lose their undergarments nightly. This could either be Alex's worst nightmare, or his wildest dream come true.
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2004 2004
eBookwise Release Date: November 2011

Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [61 KB]
Words: 12261
Reading time: 35-49 min.

Alex, aka Rob Alexander to his family and the government, cursed the sputtering plane. She was going down in the middle of the South Pacific, miles from any known civilization. The best he could do was to find an island to land this baby and pray it was civilized. Otherwise he might be stuck on it with some long lost World War II kamikaze fighter.

He scowled darkly--better than shark bait at the bottom of the ocean. Becoming Robinson Crusoe wasn't a fate much better. He hated coconut and fish, and he didn't see himself building a tree house or befriending any simians.

He scoured his map, hoping his craft would make it to Fiji. Then he spied a huge land mass not on any of his maps. Frowning, he studied it. Could his equipment be that far off that this might be New Zealand, Australia, or South America? Giant, there were bound to be people on that rock. He was saved.

It was a rocky bastard, without a discernible strip of flat land long enough to make a feasible runway. Nor did he see any buildings, not even so much as a grass hut.

He rubbed his smoothly polished head and twisted his lips. Fuckin' shit. He'd found volcano central. That big mama looked ready to blow.

"You're going to have to take me a little further," he coaxed the dying plane, patting the wheel.

The bitch spit and hissed at him as if to say, Fly off and die, asshole, as she hurtled toward the craggy soil. Some loyalty.

If he was a praying man, this would be the time, but he wasn't enough of a hypocrite to beg God's mercy after ignoring Him all these years. If this was the end, he'd meet it like a man with his head held high.

What a helluva ride. He'd go out like he'd lived his life--in a blaze of glory. He laughed in the face of death as the ground rushed to meet him. How many people got to die the way they loved to live?