SURVIVOR LOVE ISLAND
A sinfully spicy and wildly wicked romantic comedy!
The Blurb
Paige is looking forward to a free vacation on a tropical island, thanks to a new reality TV show.
Oz has an ex-military background and is playing to win.
But the other contestants aren’t going to make it easy … or pleasant. In fact, these game-players can be downright deadly.
With bizarre accidents, dodgy food, and a grumbling volcano, who’s hoping to survive, who’s going to thrive, and who’s going to fall in love?
And will anyone be going home with the prize money of $10 million? Not if the double-dealing, dastardly producers have anything to do with it.
The winner takes it all – but who wrote the rules?
Meet The Cast
Extracts
Oz
Another yell carried through the air followed by a moan and then a wail.
“Does that sound like Dirt?” Paige asked, her expression worried.
Gemma and I took the stairs two at a time up to Dirt’s room. I didn’t even bother to knock on the door but slammed through it. I found him in the bathroom.
I immediately turned to the women following me, Gemma right behind, Paige still puffing up the stairs.
“Stand back, you don’t want to see this.”
But Gemma had already barged past me and into the bathroom.
“God, that’s disgusting,” she said, backing out hurriedly. “You were right, I don’t want to see that,” and she ran back down the stairs taking them two at a time.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Paige gasped.
I tried to keep a straight face but it wasn’t easy.
“You don’t want to go in there.”
Dirt moaned again.
“But it sounds like he’s in pain?” she said, her face screwed up with concern.
“He is. But without trying to sound like a sexist twat, this isn’t a job for a woman.”
“Oh yeah?!” she said fiercely, her hands on her hips. “There is nothing in the world a man can do that a woman can’t, backwards and in high heels and we can have babies. So beat that, you … you … Neanderthal!”
I crossed my arms, grinning at the little five foot firecracker.
“He’s got his balls stuck between the toilet seat and the bowl. You want to help him out?”
Her eyes grew wide as she peeked over my shoulder then recoiled.
“Um, no. Changed my mind,” she mumbled. “Definitely something men can do that women can’t. How on earth did he get his balls trapped?”
“I guess they’ve sagged over time. The skin stretches with age and gravity, you know?”
She cringed. “Please stop talking.”
“Help me!” Dirt moaned faintly.
“On my way, buddy,” I said, still grinning at Paige’s expression.
I had to kneel next to Dirt as he writhed in agony, my face way too near his crotch for shits and giggles. I was even less chuffed when I glanced up to see a cameraman filming me grapple with Dirt’s meat and two veg. And at that moment I knew, I just knew that a certain YouTube clip would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I must have yanked a little too hard because Dirt shrieked again, his eyeliner smeared across his leathery cheeks as his eyes watered, and I realized that not only were his balls stuck, but someone had put glue on the toilet seat.
Sighing, I pulled out my Swiss Army knife.
“Dude,” Dirt choked out. “I want to keep them attached!”
“Sorry, buddy,” I grinned at him. “They’ve got to come off.”
His eyes widened and sweat broke out on his forehead.
I used the screwdriver on my Swiss Army knife to unscrew the toilet seat, then handed Dirt a soapy washcloth to dissolve the glue and clean it off his wedding tackle. I’d done my part and there was no way I was helping anymore with the old guy’s wrinkled todger.
He clutched the family jewels gratefully, tears running down his cheeks.
“How bad is it, dude?” he moaned.
“Could have been worse. Someone could have used superglue on the seat and then we’d be sending you to hospital.”
He whimpered, and I watched sympathetically as he fell into a heap on the floor.
“Paige?” I called. “You still there?”
“Yes, but my eyes are closed.”
“Can you get some ice?”
I really was trying not to laugh.
Oz
Another yell carried through the air followed by a moan and then a wail.
“Does that sound like Dirt?” Paige asked, her expression worried.
Gemma and I took the stairs two at a time up to Dirt’s room. I didn’t even bother to knock on the door but slammed through it. I found him in the bathroom.
I immediately turned to the women following me, Gemma right behind, Paige still puffing up the stairs.
“Stand back, you don’t want to see this.”
But Gemma had already barged past me and into the bathroom.
“God, that’s disgusting,” she said, backing out hurriedly. “You were right, I don’t want to see that,” and she ran back down the stairs taking them two at a time.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Paige gasped.
I tried to keep a straight face but it wasn’t easy.
“You don’t want to go in there.”
Dirt moaned again.
“But it sounds like he’s in pain?” she said, her face screwed up with concern.
“He is. But without trying to sound like a sexist twat, this isn’t a job for a woman.”
“Oh yeah?!” she said fiercely, her hands on her hips. “There is nothing in the world a man can do that a woman can’t, backwards and in high heels and we can have babies. So beat that, you … you … Neanderthal!”
I crossed my arms, grinning at the little five foot firecracker.
“He’s got his balls stuck between the toilet seat and the bowl. You want to help him out?”
Her eyes grew wide as she peeked over my shoulder then recoiled.
“Um, no. Changed my mind,” she mumbled. “Definitely something men can do that women can’t. How on earth did he get his balls trapped?”
“I guess they’ve sagged over time. The skin stretches with age and gravity, you know?”
She cringed. “Please stop talking.”
“Help me!” Dirt moaned faintly.
“On my way, buddy,” I said, still grinning at Paige’s expression.
I had to kneel next to Dirt as he writhed in agony, my face way too near his crotch for shits and giggles. I was even less chuffed when I glanced up to see a cameraman filming me grapple with Dirt’s meat and two veg. And at that moment I knew, I just knew that a certain YouTube clip would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I must have yanked a little too hard because Dirt shrieked again, his eyeliner smeared across his leathery cheeks as his eyes watered, and I realized that not only were his balls stuck, but someone had put glue on the toilet seat.
Sighing, I pulled out my Swiss Army knife.
“Dude,” Dirt choked out. “I want to keep them attached!”
“Sorry, buddy,” I grinned at him. “They’ve got to come off.”
His eyes widened and sweat broke out on his forehead.
I used the screwdriver on my Swiss Army knife to unscrew the toilet seat, then handed Dirt a soapy washcloth to dissolve the glue and clean it off his wedding tackle. I’d done my part and there was no way I was helping anymore with the old guy’s wrinkled todger.
He clutched the family jewels gratefully, tears running down his cheeks.
“How bad is it, dude?” he moaned.
“Could have been worse. Someone could have used superglue on the seat and then we’d be sending you to hospital.”
He whimpered, and I watched sympathetically as he fell into a heap on the floor.
“Paige?” I called. “You still there?”
“Yes, but my eyes are closed.”
“Can you get some ice?”
I really was trying not to laugh.
Oz
Adrenaline is a stress hormone, so it reduces blood flow to your dick. I joined the British Army when I was seventeen, and I can honestly say that I’d never had a hard-on after jumping from a helo, never got hard before in the middle of the ocean, and I sure as hell had never had my dick sit up and beg in front of nine other people (except in biology class when I was thirteen, which doesn’t count).
But with Paige’s generous tits pressed against my chest in the warm Caribbean Sea, all bets were off. And in case you’re wondering, swimming with a hard-on is less fun that it sounds. Even though I’d truthfully told Paige that shark attacks here were rare, I couldn’t help thinking that all the blood flowing south would make a tasty treat for a Great White. And it wouldn’t be blood loss that killed me if a shark bit off my John Thomas and nut-sack, it would be the embarrassment when Brian announced it during my eulogy.
Oz
Paige was still missing in action so the others went one by one until only me, Loki, Skunk and the guy working the ropes were left at the top. Still no sign of Paige and I was getting worried.
“I’ll go and look for her,” I said, heading in the direction I’d last seen her.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Loki asked.
“I’ll shout if I need you,” I said, walking away.
I couldn’t see Paige but I could hear something rustling in the bushes.
“Paige?”
“Don’t come any closer!” she wailed, which had the opposite effect on me.
I charged across only to be faced by her glorious white arse poking out from the bush.
“What the…?”
“Go away!” she cried.
“Um…” I said, trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”
There was a long pause.
“Yes,” she said in a small voice. “Please go away, Oz.”
I drew in a deep breath. “You don’t sound okay.” I glanced over my shoulder and saw one of the cameramen heading over. “Are you going to be okay in the thirty seconds before the film crew arrives?”
“Oh, God!” she moaned. “I’m stuck! My harness has gotten all tangled up in a bush. I couldn’t get if off quickly enough so I thought I could, ya know, pull my panties out of the way and sort of pee like that, but now I’m stuck!”
“Do you want me to help or get … well, there’s me, Loki or Skunk. Still want me to go away?”
She let out a long, tremulous sigh. “Okay, you can help me, but promise not to look.”
“I kind of need to see what I’m doing.”
She sighed again. “Fine, whatever. Just promise not to laugh.”
“Can’t promise that either,” I said truthfully.
“Oz!” she wailed. “Just help me!”
A chuckle broke from deep within me when I found her.
“Oz!” she whined.
“Sorry! Can’t help it!” I wheezed.
She’d managed to push her shorts and panties down, but they were snarled at her crotch, and the climbing harness was snagged on a bush. Not her bush—a bush of vegetation. With purple flowers.
I pushed through the undergrowth and crouched down to unbuckle the harness at her thighs, then help her step out of it without tripping over her underwear. She clung onto my shoulders, my face in her chest as she wobbled out of her clothing.
I held a scrap of pale blue cotton and the shorts with the parrot-pattern in my hand. Did all her clothes have parrots or palm trees of them?
“I still have to pee!” she squeaked. “Can you just go away now, please! And leave my, um, clothes.”
Still chuckling to myself, I left her shorts and underwear on the bush and headed off the cameraman who was grinning at me.
“Thanks for the money shot, dude.”
Dr Robbie
“How many times have you been married, Dirk?”
“Five and countin’, doc. See, I’m a romantic at heart. I love women, love ‘em. All shapes and sizes, all colors, all creeds—love ‘em to bits. I’m friends with all my exes. ‘Cept the ones who won’t speak to me.”
“Why do you think your marriages failed?”
“You know, doc, I’ve often wondered the same thing. I guess I’m not a good prospect for the whole ball ‘n’ chain, you know? I can’t blame ‘em, none of ‘em, even after Melissa slept with my bandmate Herby’s sister-in-law. And the thing is, doc, I loved ‘em all, but I loved the bottle more. No woman wants to feel less wanted than a bottle of Jackie Dee. Talking of which … quick top up?”
“Well, I…”
“There she blows. Down the hatch, doc.”
“Cheers!” [cough] “And what happened the night when Keith Richards walked into the bar where you playing?”
“Oh well, Keith is Keith, right? He invited the band back to a party at his hotel—plenty of Colombian marching powder, if you know what I mean.”
“Dirk!”
“Sorry, I forgot. So, Keith invited us all back to a party at his hotel. Charlie Watts had gone to bed ‘cause he wasn’t interested in partying. Nice guy, shit hot drummer. Mick was off with Bianca, and Ron Woods was jamming with the support band, forget who, and I joined in. Don’t know where Bill Wyman was, I never saw him. So the party goes on for a few hours … ‘nother drink, doc?”
“Oh, thank you. That’s a very fine Scotch.”
“Can’t beat a good malt.”
“What happened next?”
“So, we’re all flying pretty high…”
“No, no, no! No drug references!”
“Sorry, doc. So, we’ve been jamming for hours and the other guys from my band are passed out on the floor, then Keith says I can have a room because they always keep some spares, right? They have the top two floors of the hotel.”
“How kind. Do you mind if I have another drink?”
“Be my guest, doc. Bit of a go-er under that sexy red suit, I’d say.”
“Goodness, we’ll have to cut that out! Ha ha ha!”
“All the best parts, doc. Anyway, I went to bed and crashed out, then half an hour later, Keith kicked the door in—scared the life out of me. See, he thought I had a woman in there and what with being newly married, he wasn’t cool with that. Keith is a very moral guy. No one ever says that because of his rep, ya know? But he is. Course, I didn’t know that at the time, so I jumped off the bed thinking it was a raid and tried to climb down from the balcony. I’d forgotten I was on the 69th floor!”
“Oh my!”
“Yeah, it was touch and go, doc. But Keith grabbed me, wrestled me to the ground, slapped me around some then realized I was by myself in the room. By then, we were laughing so hard, he ordered a crate of champagne and a dozen oranges for breakfast. Yeah, those were the days. But then Cindy divorced me and I went into rehab for the first time.”
“That must have been a very difficult time.”
“Not the best, not the best. Naughty doc! You’ve finished that bottle. Let’s have another—it’s on expenses, right?”
“Well, I don’t know…”
“Just two old friends having a chat, right?”
“Well, I guess…”
“And here’s one I just happen to have with me. Cheers, doc!”
“Cheers.”
“So, tell me, doc … it must get pretty stressful listening to people’s problems all day, right?”
“Oh God, you don’t know the half of it!”
“Tell me about yourself, doc. Why d’you want to be a shrink?”
“Well, I don’t like to talk about it…”
“It might help.”
“I’ve never told anyone this…”
“I’ll take it to the Rave in the Grave.”
“Ha ha ha! Well, when I was thirteen, I wanted a perm. My mom kept saying I was too young but then she finally gave in. Dirk, it was the worst perm in the history of perms. I looked like a poodle! It was awful and my mom wouldn’t spring for me to get it straightened. I have flashbacks from those months. Catholic schoolgirls can be really mean.”
“Tell me about it. Love me a bad-ass Catholic schoolgirl. Let’s drink to that!”
“Cheers! [cough] Some were really horrible to me. I think I have PTSD from the experience. But that’s when I knew I wanted to spend my life helping people.”
“Sounds tough.”
“Talk about stress! You think you’ve got problems? My ex-husband was an asshole and left me for a hippie! A hippie! With hairy armpits had tie-dyed clothes. Do you know how humiliating that is? I have to listen to people telling me their problems all day long. Blah blah blah! They don’t care that they’re dumping all their shit on me. No one understands me. All they see is the suit, not the woman beneath it.”
“I’m seeing you now, doll.”
“You know what you should do, Dirk?”
“Open another bottle of whiskey?”
“That’s right! Bottoms up!”
“Cheers, doll? Doc? Doc! Are you okay? Woah! She’s gonna blow!”
“I’m seeing it but I’m not believing it! Lampi, this is gold! He just shit me out a gold brick! Tell me there’s more?”
“Unfortunately, the next part…”
“Lampi, did the doc just throw up in that plant pot?”
“Yes, Sid. Do you want a close up?”
“You know me so well.”
Paige
“You’ve got a great ass for an old broad, Tavi,” Dirt said suddenly, his mind obviously on the same track as mine, which wasn’t reassuring. “Very grab-able.”
“Keep your paws to yourself, Dirk,” Octavia replied, but I noticed that she didn’t sound offended—and she’d called him by his first name. “And less of the old. I’m aging like fine wine.”
“Very fine,” he laughed raucously, then suddenly started singing in a raw, bottle-of-whiskey-a-day voice.
“She’s my little rock ‘n’ roll
My tits-and-ass-with-soul baby!”
He laughed so wildly, he started coughing, sounding like he was hacking up a lung. He had to stop and catch his breath.
“You need another rehab holiday,” Octavia said severely.
“Heh heh, nothing as pathetic as an old rocker who goes sober,” he said wryly. “Unless it’s sober and with religion. Nah, I’m planning to go out in a blaze of glory.” He cocked a cheeky smile. “I spent a lot of money on booze, broads, and fast cars. The rest I just squandered.”
“Is that why you’re here?” I asked. “For the prize money?”
He scratched his balls thoughtfully.
“Well, it was a free vacation and my agent said if I did the show he wouldn’t sue me for what I owed him, the bastard.”
He sounded so cheerful, and I wondered what it would be like to go through life not caring about the consequences of rash actions. Sure, I’d had a moment when I cut up Nathan’s suit pants, but being arrested had taken the shine off my thirty seconds of bravery.
“I’ve played with all the greats,” Dirt said, still reminiscing happily. “Bowie, the New York Dolls, Iggy Pop, the Stones. I climbed Mount Fuji with Keith—he was off his head on something. We fuckin’ zoomed up there, watched the sunrise while we shared a bottle of Japanese Umeshu plum brandy. Had to be airlifted off when we were too drunk to get back down. Good times.”
“Keith?” I asked, puzzled.
“Keith Richards,” Octavia said knowingly. “The Rolling Stones: a small, underground band you won’t have heard of, you young person, you. I’ve met Keith Richards a couple of times. In fact, I knew Charlie Watts quite well,” Octavia added, surprising us all. “Since he started his own stables, we’d often see each other at meets. His wife had racehorses, mostly. Charlie was an awful rider himself, terrible seat, but terribly nice. And Ronnie Wood.”
Dirt let out a hacking laugh. “Nice? Nice! Ron would turn in his grave!”
“Perhaps after he dies,” Octavia said briskly.
Dirt thought that was even funnier and fell to his knees, howling.
Oz threw them both an appraising glance, and when it seemed clear that Dirt was no longer capable of independent movement, he used Octavia’s mosquito net as a stretcher slung between him and Loki, and they carried Dirt up the rest of the path.
I wondered again why Oz would go to so much trouble to make sure Dirt wasn’t left behind. I liked Dirt—at arms’ length—but he wasn’t helping us to get through this challenge. Truthfully, he was a liability. Although he did make me laugh…
THE PRODUCERS
“On it, Sid. You can count on me.”
“Sometimes I wonder.”
“Are you trying to be hurtful, Sid?”
“Chill the fuck out, Lampi. Do you know how stressful it is being the producer of a top ranking reality show?”
“I do know, Sid. I understand. But when you take it out on me…”
“You’re my right hand guy, Lampi, you know that. You are the chosen one. You sit at the right hand of God.”
“Aw, Sid.”
“I know, I know.”
“You’re going to be so proud of me.”
“I already am.”
“Aw, Sid.”
“I think of you as my…”
“Son?”
“I was going to say nephew.”
“Oh.”
“A favorite nephew. So, what’s your news?”
“So, well, um, I managed to track down Molly’s mother…”
“And?”
“She’s agreed to fly out to Saba to be interviewed.”
“She did? I thought she was too ill to travel.”
“So did I, but she seemed keen to do it.”
“Maybe she’s hoping that she’ll die out here so we’ll be stuck with the cost of the funeral.”
“Sid!”
“What do our insurers say?”
“Uh…”
“Lampi, will ya use the freakin’ brain cell that you were born with for something other than tiddly winks!”
“I’ll call them now.”
“Call them in the morning. The assholes will be tucked up in their penthouses by now. When does the oldie fly in?”
“She’s here now, Sid.”
“On the island?”
“Yes, she’s just checked into the hotel. I have Clark on stand-by to catch Molly’s reaction when she sees her mom.”
“Lampi! Mwah! You are certifiable!”
“Excuse me?”
“A certifiable genius! I mean it—the dying mom and the weeping daughter. I love it! I love it so much, if you were a woman, I’d be on my knees, here and now.”
“Oh, Sid!”
“I said ‘if’, Lampi, ‘if’.”
“Oh, sure. Ha ha.”
“Do we got the shrink ready to interview Molly and Molly-mom?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Doctor Robbie, and I’m here at this very emotional time as Molly McKinney, model, actress, singer, humanitarian and influencer greets her dying mother, Vera. Emotions will be running high and I’m grateful to be on hand to ease the trauma of these difficult, heart-rending moments. In just a few short minutes, Molly will see her mother for the first time in days, knowing that these are the final, brief, all-too-fleeting seconds in the life of the woman who nurtured and raised her. I know y’all are feeling the tension, the palpable tension, as a family is torn apart by the specter of death that haunts us all. I’m just happy that I can be here for them at this crossroads in their lives. Here comes Vera McKinney now. I can see how brave she’s being, how resolute. I’m told that she refused a wheelchair, insisting that her only daughter shouldn’t suffer the trauma of seeing her so reduced and debilitated. What bravery, and I know she’s touching all our hearts in her, um, surprisingly colorful vacation wear. What an amazing woman. Hello, Vera, I’m Doctor Robbie. How are you feeling?”
“Who?”
“Doctor Robbie.”
“I don’t need a doctor, thanks, luv.”
“You’re so brave.”
“Ta. It were quite a long flight. I’m knackered.”
“Of course you are, especially in your condition.”
“I’m not pregnant, luv.”
“No, goodness! What a sense of humor! I just mean because of everything you’ve gone through, all your suffering.”
“Oh aye, yeah. So, where’s me little buggerlugs?”
“Excuse me?”
“Molly, me daughter. I were told she was stopping here.”
“She’s on her way now.”
“I should chuffin’ well hope so. Hours I been sitting on me bum just to see her soppy face.”
“I can feel the love, it’s such a powerful emotion. Here she comes now.”
“Awright, hen! Gis your old mam a hug.”
“Bloody hell, mam! What are you doing here?”
“Well, that’s charming! Hours I’ve traveled for that greeting, you little madam.”
“If I could just interject…”
“Inter— what?”
“As a doctor experienced in grief counseling, do you think you can tell me how you’re feeling now, Vera? Are you suffering? How’s the pain?”
“Oh, well, that’s nice of you to ask, doctor. More than me own flesh an’ blood has bothered to ask. Now you mention it, I’m dying…”
“Oh, Vera!”
“…to take these shoes off.”
“That’s so noble of you, laughing in the face of what must be terrible pain.”
“Well, that’s right.”
“Mam! Come away right now!”
“Don’t be so rude, Molly-mogs, I’m chatting with this nice doctor.”
“Mam! NOW!”
“You know, Vera, I’ve rarely met anyone who is so sick being so brave.”
“Well, I managed not to need the sick bag on that plane, so that were something.”
“Molly has been telling us how sick you’ve been.”
“Well, I was a bit poorly, but that was because my bunions were playing up.”
“Bunions as well as cancer? My heart goes out to you.”
“Eh, what cancer? I don’t have cancer.”
“Mam!”
“But Vera, Molly told us…”
“Molly, what have you been telling this nice doctor, eh, you mardy little cow?”
“MAM! SHUT THE FU— you mean that you don’t have cancer? Oh my God! You’re cured? It’s a miracle!”
“Am I hearing this right, Lampi? The oldie doesn’t have cancer?”
“I’m as shocked as you are, Sid! What are we going to do? Maybe we just tell people that Molly had to leave the show because her mom took a turn for the worse?”
“Are you kidding me, Lampi? This is TV gold, I’m telling ya! Release this interview to the news sites now. It has viruses all over it…”
“You mean viral?”
“It has virals all over it. The lying bitch just made our show a ratings shoo-in winner!”
