Jane Converse clearly wanted to convey that surfers are the biggest jerks in the world. The H and all of his surfing friends were monstrously self-absorbed, and the h, although a decent person, is pathetic for still wanting the H after she's seen what a self-absorbed jerk he is and how he and his friends bully a young man who is in their circle of acquaintances.
A tedious book that is every bit as silly as the title suggests. I should have known better. It's a bad sign in a romance novel when you're halfway through it and still wondering when the author is going to introduce the hero—only to realize that she already has. And also a bad sign when you can't decide which is more ridiculous: the plot device of a round-the-world surfin' safari that hires a trained nurse to accompany them, only to leave her behind when they go to the beach (because the real danger is at the hotel?). Or, the cooler-than-cool hero who's somehow a world class surfer and tops in his medical school class, excelling at both with effortless ease. Because that's totally a thing. Whatever. Even as a pandemic escapist read, this was a fail.
This is a well-written, campy vintage nurse romance novel. Laurie is a nurse dating a would-be surgeon, Ron, but he has decided to chuck medicine to devote himself to surfing full-time. She, in her efforts to convince him not to waste his life riding waves, enlists as a nurse on a trip to Hawaii and Australia so as to be able to nag him constantly.
As far as romances go, the writing is excellent. You really feel immersed in the surf culture of the 1960s, and the book has a good sense of humor as well.