Coffee and Cockpits

Acclaim for Jade Hart’s OCEAN KILLS:

"Jade Hart's OCEAN KILLS sizzles as an intensely moving debut...It's time to make room for a new literary star!"
–Aiden James, bestselling author of The Judas Chronicles and Cades Cove

“With Jade Hart's well written words you will be witness to the most beautiful locations, the most horrendous people, and one of the sexiest male leads.”

—Kelley Lynn, author of Fraction Of Stone

“My verdict–it easily gets 5 stars from me. Once I began reading, it was a race to the finish. I couldn’t stand not knowing what was going to happen and then, it ended! And, I still need more. I need to know more about her abilities, the markings, and Callan!”

—Fel Wetzig, Peasants Revolt

“This book is FANTASTIC!!! It is something paranormal that you have never seen before. The writing is exquisite, the story line flows, and you can't help but feel everything the characters do. This book has catapulted to my #1 favourite book. A must read!”

—Shana, Goodreads

“I'm a little mad at this author—because I missed out in serious sleep time!!
 I am over the moon with this series! Gimme gimme gimme more, as soon as possible!! 5 DEVASTATING CAPTIVATING AMAZING PAWS!!!”

—Maghon Thomas from Happy Tails and Tales Blog Reviews

“Ocean Kills was a very enjoyable read. It kept me up until the early morning hours, and that is the evidence of a great story for me. I'm definitely looking forward to the next book in this series.”

— Leigh Ann, Flying on Silver Wings Blog Reviews

BOOKS BY JADE HART

OCEAN BREEZE SERIES

Ocean Kills (Dec 2012)

Ocean Slays (coming June 2013)

Ocean Hunts (coming late 2013)

STAND ALONE CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Coffee and Cockpits (Apr 2013)

Octopus Lotto (coming mid-late 2013)

Snow and Gold-dust (coming early 2014)

Anamorphic Sight (coming late 2013)

URBAN FANTASY

Loka (coming May 2013)

Coffee & Cockpits

Copyright ©
2013 Jade Hart

Published by Jade Hart

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Published:
Jade Hart April 2013:
[email protected]

Cover Design:
by Megan at Abuse of Reason:
http://www.facebook.com/abuseofreason?fref=ts

Editing:
by Marcie of Looking Glass Editing:

http://lookingglassediting.blogspot.co.nz/

Images used in manuscript from Canstock Photos:
http://www.canstockphoto.com

Dominic

Without you, I would never have written a word. Therefore, I owe you all of them.

xx

I
earned my wings.

This was it. I was qualified.

Stepping on-board the plane, fizzles of joy frothed in my stomach. I’d done it; one step closer to my dream and free to fly the skies. I was no longer a ground-dweller stifled in an office. My work day included prancing around fluffy clouds. It didn’t matter I wasn’t graced with a halo. For all intents, I was an angel of the horizon. Who needed stupid wings when gravity relinquished its hold in the form of a giant metal bird? Jet-fuel and combustion were my wings and were a lot faster than flimsy, fluttering things.

Acute, sharp happiness buoyed me and I swear I floated by sheer emotion.

A good day at work meant soaring above the globe. A bad day at work meant turbulence and…a horrific crash, flames, mutilation, and/or death.
Um, I didn’t think this through, did I?

My heart stuttered at the thought of my body, crisp in its immaculate uniform, mangled and whooshing with fire.
Great, I signed up for death by—

“Nina Poppins?”

“Here!” I shouted, running daintily down the aisle in a pair of brand new heels that were evil incarnate. I no longer just had ankles—I had blisters the size of golf balls on my ankles. The price of beauty, and in this case, my job.

“You’re late, young lady,” the airline examiner snipped. Her blonde hair was in a bun, sprayed to plastic hardness, and her perfect red-orange lipstick was primed to perfection. Not a face-fuzz or nail chip in sight.

I shrivelled inside. I spent much longer than usual dressing this morning, and yet I didn’t spruce up as nice as Ms. Klein.

She gave me a hoity-toity look down her nose.

“Sorry, Ms. Klein.” Swallowing, I slung my satchel over my shoulder and smoothed down my air hostess uniform, searching for the creases I knew had to be there. I wasn’t like the creature in front of me. She was a sharp-tongued-take-no-crap Barbie doll.

I presented well, but I could never compete with that edgy chic. I was more suited to vibrancy and music. A whimsical dancer’s soul lived within me, no matter how aloft and professionally aspiring my dreams were. I didn’t like the severe uniform; I liked freedom and colour. I didn’t want to work the back of the plane; I wanted the front seat. Spectator to storms and crystal blue horizon; in control of rudders, ailerons, and wings.

A small smile played on my lips. At least I wore something fun and flirty
beneath
my clothes. I had a serious obsession with lingerie: corsets, garter belts, lace, and organza. Didn’t know why I bothered, though, no men saw me, and I was too focused on my career to chase love and attention. Having a career equalled money. And money equalled freedom from my poverty past. Probably why I was drunk on buying finery… I’d never had the bank balance to do it.

Dodging past Ms. Klein’s piercing glare, I dashed down the aisle of the 737-300 Boeing. Checking, as I hustled, that all the seatbelts were neatly crossed on the seats and the magazines placed just so in the seat pockets.