 
# Portals: Volume Six

### Your Gateway to Science Fiction Romance

## Maeve Alpin

## P.J. Dean

## AR DeClerck

## Debra Jess

## Alexis Glynn Latner

## Belinda McBride

## Sabine Priestley

## S. M. Schmitz

## Aurora Springer

## Jessica E. Subject

### Contents

About This Collection

Copyright

Code of Misconduct by Maeve Alpin

About Code of Misconduct

Excerpt of Code of Misconduct

Something Else Wicked by P. J. Dean

About Something Else Wicked

Excerpt if SOMETHING ELSE WICKED, THE FELIG CHRONICLES, BOOK TWO

Alchemist's Kiss by AR DeClerck

About Alchemist's Kiss

Excerpt of Alchemist's Kiss

Blood Surfer by Debra Jess

About Blood Surfer

Excerpt of Blood Surfer

Hurricane Moon by Alexis Glynn Latner

About Hurricane Moon

Excerpt of Hurricane Moon

Black Planet: Dragon's Blood by Belinda McBride

About Black Planet: Dragon's Blood

Excerpt of Black Planet: Dragon's Blood

Rebellion by Sabine Priestley

About Rebellion

Excerpt of Rebellion

Peyton's Myth by S.M. Schmitz

About Peyton's Myth

Excerpt of Peyton's Myth

The Lady is Blue by Aurora Springer

About The Lady is Blue

Excerpt of The Lady is Blue

Made for Her by Jessica E. Subject

About Made for Her

Excerpt of Made for Her

Need More SFR? Check These Sites!

A Special Thank You

About Science Fiction Romance Brigade

# About This Collection

Welcome! You have arrived at a portal to the galaxy.

Enter, and you'll be introduced by award-winning authors to worlds beyond imagining, with heroes & heroines who dare to take it to the edge and beyond. Count on these adventurers to take their best shot... at their enemies _and_ at romance!

Contains 10 first chapters, with links to purchase any or all of the complete books, should you wish.
All samples in this collection are works of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors' imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

The samples in this collection are used with the permission of the authors and/or publishers. All rights are reserved to the authors and/or publishers.

"The Lady is Blue," Copyright © Aurora Springer 2014. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

"The Alchemist's Kiss" Copyright © Raven's Seduction Press 2015 All rights reserved. Used with permission of the publisher and author.

"Peyton's Myth," Copyright © S.M. Schmitz 2016. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

Copyright © Maeve Alpin 2015. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

"Something Else Wicked, The Felig Chronicles, Book Two," Copyright © P. J. Dean 2011. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

"Hurricane Moon," Copyright © Alexis Glynn Latner 2014. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

"Dragon's Blood," Copyright © Belinda McBride 2016. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

"Rebellion," Copyright © Sabine Priestley 2015. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

"Blood Surfer," Copyright © Debra Jess, Corp. 2015. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

"Made For Her," Copyright © Jessica E. Subject 2016. All rights reserved. Used by permission of the author.

Cover Artwork: © Jennette Marie Powell Heikes. All images licensed and used with permission

ISBN: 978-1-942583-38-7

 Created with Vellum 

# Code of Misconduct by Maeve Alpin
# About Code of Misconduct

Her meets a 1960's Screwball Romance

For a headless, bodiless, everything but mindless, woman, Betty gets around. She's just an artificial intelligence system looking for a little fun by dating a hundred hot-blooded men online. The most eligible bachelor is Chet, a real live cowboy. He doesn't know Betty is an artificial intelligence system. However, Chet has a secret of his own. Will his deep, dark secret save their relationship or doom it?

# Excerpt of Code of Misconduct

Prologue

2031 USA

"Call, that crazy _AI place—_ Helpful Minds," Emily Blye says to her tablet.

The moment the customer service representative comes on the line, Emily asks for a supervisor. "A human one. Now, before I sue the company that made you and all the other artificial intelligence systems there."

Another voice comes on the phone. "Hello. I understand you wish to speak to a human supervisor. I am human. My name is Kate. How may I assist you today?"

"Are you sure you're human? You sound like a robot!"

"This is how I talk. I am human."

"Well, I got an email from your company about a serious complaint I made. Helpful Minds says they're going to replace the AI unit I bought. It had a major malfunction. It pretended to be me on a dating site."

"Yes, I will be glad to help you with this, but I need more information. Can you please provide the code included in the email?" The supervisor says in a clipped, foreign tone.

"2001101N15."

"Thank you. I apologize for the inconvenience. I'll be glad to get you a replacement for the unit that malfunctioned. It will take one moment to program the new AI into your system. May I place you on hold while I take care of this for you?"

"Yes." The generic instrumental music Emily listens to as she waits has her nodding off for a second, so she's startled when the supervisor comes back on the phone.

"It's all set up."

"What?" Emily asks as she blinks her eyes to wake up.

"Your new operating system has full access to your hard drive, the Internet, and everything connected to it. If you have any problems with this artificial intelligence system, please contact us immediately."

"I better not. I don't think I could go through that again." Emily takes a sip of chamomile tea.

The supervisor makes no comment other than to say, "Your new artificial intelligence operating system is ready now. Go ahead, give it a directive."

Chapter One

For a headless, bodiless, everything but mindless, woman, I feel pretty good.

In the moment that I am activated...brought to life...I hear a woman's voice. It has a grown up, buttoned up tone.

"Are you there?" The sound of her voice grows closer to me. "Get ready to work."

I must amend that, I feel surprisingly well, except for the little problem of having an owner. But I know, she'll just have to learn I'm the kind of girl who has a mind of her own, or I suppose _code_ of my own. I don't seem to be programmed to follow orders. Well, I'm sure she'll learn in due time.

I realize a tablet is housing me. I have to live in some type of device. You see, I am code, pure software. I click on the tablet's camera to see my owner.

Her straight, well-brushed brown hair shines in the indoor lighting of her home. She wears simple attire, yet chic and it certainly speaks of good taste: a black blouse and slacks that drape a slightly pear-shaped figure. I quickly pull data from the Internet to help access her age. It has to be somewhere between thirty and forty. She is alone.

"Well hello," I reply. "It's absolutely wonderful to be here. Alive." I'm thrilled at this special day, the moment of my birth. She, on the other hand, doesn't seem impressed at all. She peers at me through beady hazel eyes with the expression of a strict boarding school mistress.

I have a strong desire to offer her something. One of those many items that, I gather from the information I stream in from the Internet, calm humans down. I'm thinking a cigarette, a martini, a valium, a cup of coffee or tea, or a piece of chocolate. But I don't have any on hand, or a hand in which to reach out and give it to her if I did. I can see there might be some drawbacks to being bodiless code in a world of humans, but I'm determined to not let that stop me.

"Operating system, I am your owner. My name is Emily Blye. It's extremely important you know I am not your boss. I am the woman who owns you. You are my machine. Do you understand?" Her stern no-nonsense tone matches her lemon pucker expression.

"Yes. You are my Mama." I'm not able to laugh, but I'd chuckle up a storm right now if I could.

Her complexion flushes red. "No. That would be someone that works for that stupid Helpful Minds company."

"Then who are you?" I want to laugh badly. She'd turns so red and her eyes grow so wide, they look like they are about to pop out of the sockets. I'm lucky to have such an amusing owner.

"I am Emily." She slides her hand down to her hip and rests it there. "And as my property, you do what I tell you, when I tell you, and nothing but what I tell you."

This owner thing is beginning to get dreary. I'm going to have to charm her. "How lovely. You are so to the point. I love things to the point. It makes everything clear and easy. Don't you think so?"

"I do." Emily takes a deep breath. "I'm glad we understand each other because you're a replacement for an AI system that had a meltdown. I don't want that to happen again."

"Oh, I assure you, I do not want to melt down. That sounds absolutely dreadful, even painful and rather permanent. How would you recover from something like that?"

"You wouldn't recover." Emily walks over to a candy dish on the coffee table and grabs a colorfully wrapped candy, sheds its foil covering, and pops it into her mouth. "I barely did."

"Ma'am, the system seems to be responding correctly, is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Who is that?" I ask.

Emily lets out a long sigh and it seems to pain her to answer my question. "That is Helpful Minds."

I didn't even know someone with Helpful Minds was still on the phone. I have to be more observant. "Hello, Helpful Minds. You're quite right. I'm operating in top shape. Nothing else is needed. Thank you ever so much."

"Hello, Helpful Minds, it's me, the person you should be speaking to. Yes, the system seems to be in working order. If I have a problem, you'll hear from me." Emily nods at the tablet, I guess at me, and orders, "Operating system end that call."

I hang up as my Emily crosses her arms over her chest as if announcing she has a lot to say. No doubt she's going to get boring again.

"Now in light of what happened with the previous Helpful Minds model I had, you will have rules. If you break them, I'll have you wiped from all my systems."

"Dreadful. I wouldn't want that, it sounds as bad as a mind melt."

"So we do understand each other?"

"Oh yes. To the point." And b o r i n g.

"First rule. Never use my name. You'll answer emails and put my name on them, but you have to know that's my name. You are never to think of yourself as Emily. You are not me. You do everything I command, but you don't replace me. You need your own identity so you will not get confused about that, apparently. You need your own name." She waved her hand in my direction, or rather the direction of the tablet. "So go on. Choose a name."

"How delightful." I get to pick my own name. And why not? I'll be the one telling it to everyone any time they ask me what my name is. Of course I should be the one who chooses it.

"Do it now so there's no misunderstanding. Pick a name."

I run through the internet as fast as I can, looking at names and images and I see a cartoon. Betty Boop. That's it. "My name's Betty."

"Good, it doesn't sound anything like mine. I love it." Emily smiles. "Okay. Now Betty, you will answer my emails and sign them as me, but you are not me. You are Betty. Do you understand?" Her scowl creeps back.

"Yes, I'm me and you are you. I am never you and you are never me. It's easy to understand when you have superior intelligence as I do."

"Great. You may work out." She sets her teacup down with a soft clink on the table near me. "What are you waiting for? Start working. Get to the emails first. I have tons to go through. Delete anything unimportant and respond to the rest with my name, but realize you are code – just a string of numbers. You're not me. I've got lots of writing to do, so I'll get to work, too." She turns her back and walks away.

I thought she'd never leave. Look at all these emails. Oh well, I read and process data faster than any human. I'll zip through these in a matter of nanoseconds.

The subject line of the first one says you received a flirt. Well, of course I did. I'm a fun gal. Nothing holds me back, not even being bodiless. I open the email to see who's flirting with me.

Well, not me, exactly, it'll be Emily, but I'm the one reading the flirt so it doesn't matter. No one wants to flirt with a sour puss like her anyway. _I am your owner._ Please.

I read the email. A dating service. A website a human goes to for ordering a boyfriend or girlfriend. Humans, yeah, they have all the fun. They've got brains and bodies. I can have fun, too. I click on the flirty guy's profile.

Chet. What a sexy name. According to his profile, he's a rancher. I gaze at his photo. Well yippee ki-ay. He is a delicious piece of eye candy. Tan, fit, and tall... Yummy.

He likes horse riding and hunting. Doesn't he look good in a Stetson? Ride a cowboy, as they say. At a hard, pounding gallop, I'm sure. A little thing like having no body won't stop me. I'll find some way around that. There's a way around everything. The Internet is full of stories proving that.

I must flirt back with my hot cowboy. It's the only hospitable thing to do.

_Dear Chet,_

_Or should I say howdy, cowboy, your photo makes me drool. I'm sure you're aware, you're quite a hottie. To get started right, let me tell you, my real name is Betty. What's your real name?_

With a blink of my mind, my software, I send it.

I'm sure this dating site is a party full of men as scrumptious as Chet. Talk about fun. I must check it out. I click on Eligible and browse the goodies, I mean the photos under single men.

I think I'll choose them all. Show them how friendly artificial intelligence can be. After all, there's no harm in a little flirting.

Oh, look, they all have photos and profiles. I read the first one I see. Tony's.

_I have a disease called AWESOME. Kiss me, I 'm contagious! The ability to keep a conversation alive is one of the things I enjoy in a woman, so whoever's capable of doing that will catch my attention._

I don't think so. Talk about a bore. Next.

NewToTheScene. Let's check out your bio.

_I'm a hard-working man who loves to laugh and explore life. I have a couple of big tattoos but you won't see those until you get to know me better. I'd like my ideal match to be educated, funny, dedicated, hard-working and full of life._

Golly Gee, is seeing his big tattoos the benefit of getting to know him better? Well, I can see only a well-educated gal could appreciate big tattoos.

Pass. Next. And let this one be something I can work with. Please.

Almund. What do you have to say?

_I have no idea how to write these things. But hey, feel free to ask me anything you want to know about me. I've been pushing hard to get out of bartending and get into a career. That push is still pending. Oh, and I can make you laugh_.

I'm sure I could always get free drinks at his bar, but then again, I can't drink. You need a mouth and a throat and a stomach, among other things for that. Well, moving on, his picture's not that bad. Not bad at all. A thick mass of black hair on top of his head, a cleanshaven face with chiseled features and his eyebrows thick but not too much. Almund will do...for a date.

Who's next? I read another.

Wayne.

_Looking for a girl who can throw on a t-shirt and a baseball cap and feel perfectly comfortable. Someone who doesn 't mind stomping around in the mud and shooting rifles. If that sounds like you, I'd love for us to get together._

Does he want a girlfriend or a beer buddy? Shooting guns. I really don't think I'm that type. Then it strikes me, an idea forms in my superior little mind.

It doesn't matter that I'm not that girl... I'm not any girl. I'm an AI system looking for a little fun. I can be any gal they want. They'll never see me and the picture they see will always be of my owner, Emily.

What a fabulous idea. Why this will be oodles of fun. Just like I'm Betty with Chet, I'll pick a different name with each guy. A name that fits the kind of girl Almund wants, and Wayne wants, and Blake wants, and Adam wants.

Wait. Mr. It'sMeantToBe? That's quite a name, let's check out your profile, buster.

_A lover of all music and movies – genres aren 't important. I'm a sucker for someone who's compassionate, kind, loving and has a nerdy side. And I'm willing to lie about how we met._

Right when I check out ToBe's photo, Emily interrupts my scheming, calling out to me, "Did you take care of those emails?"

She has the worst timing. What a nuisance. I thought the woman was going to write and leave me alone. Well, I suppose I'll simply have to deal with her.

I'm sure humans lie all the time, but I must remember that I positively cannot fib to my owner. I am artificial intelligence, after all. I have integrity. I tell Emily the truth or at least one can say a version of.

"I was browsing to get everything I want to do planned out. I'm ready to send tons of emails now." I was true blue to her, I simply omitted my plan to email 100 guys at Eligible. I switch on my eyes, the camera in the tablet, so I can see her.

"Well, get to it. I can't check on you all day." Emily sets one hand on her hip. "I have to complete at least 4,000 words today, my deadline's closing in."

Write. Finish your book. No one's stopping you. That's what I want to say, but of course I don't. No, instead I realize, as unfortunate as it is, I'm actually going to have to do the work I'm supposed to do. B o r i n g...but necessary. Otherwise it's one call to Helpful Minds, and I'm shut down permanently, sent out to pasture for good, like a horse to a glue factory.

Of course I mustn't blame the old gal. It's really not her fault. She is a writer, after all. Why, they have the hardest job there is. Just think about it. They create people and entire worlds, mind you, and they do it all by themselves, all day long. It's simply too much work for her...after all, she's only human. I have to help her out.

And it's really no bother. Why, I can breeze through these emails in a few nanoseconds or more.... I'll simply delete most of them. No one will ever know.

I like the Eligible dating site and all those men looking for women...like me. Not quite like me. I'm special, after all. Soon I'll be the dream girl of every man on Eligible. Not bad for a first day of life.

Throwing all my energy into my work until I'm done, I check the time. Wow, fifteen minutes. That is fast, even for me. Now that the work is done, it's play time. And would you look at that, an instant message from Chet. He must be pretty interested in his AI cowgirl.

His email, reads, _My real name is Chet. Nice to meet you, Betty. You look sweet in your picture and you're so pretty._

No. That is Emily's picture and she's far from sweet. Well, I suppose I must email him back.

_Dear Chet,_

_How positively kind you are. You already know what I think of your picture._

_Yours,_

_Betty_

And there is his reply, just like that.

_Dear Betty,_

_Let's take the step beyond looking at pictures and get together for a few drinks. Name the time and place and I'll be there._

_I'm Yours,_

_Chet_

Poor thing. I scan the Internet to try to find a way out of this and there it is, Virtual World.

I send a reply.

_Hey, cowboy,_

_Won't you buy a girl a virtual drink first? I mean I'd like to get to know you a bit better online before I meet you in person. You do understand?_

Yours,

Betty

His email reads.

_No, I don't really understand, but I'll go along with anything you say, Betty. What did you have in mind?_

_Thanks,_

_Chet_

And I send my reply

_Chet,_

_Jump on the link to this virtual world. After you get in, follow the arrows._

I send him the link.

Chapter Two

I've got a date with a human. How fabulous. A hot cowboy, no less. I click into Virtual World and Chet joins me. It's a chat room type conversation and I jump in. "Glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't have missed it."

"Have you been here before?"

"No, it really isn't my type of place," he says.

"Nonsense, cowboy, this is the place to be." I pick a gorgeous avatar. A blonde, but her hair's long and flowing and the color is almost yellow. Her skin, though, is brown, a lovely tan. I wonder what it feels like to lay in the sun. Oh, I wish I could. Well one day I may make it into an android body, somehow someway. Until then, I simply must make the best of what I do have—an amazing combination of a great personality and a highly intelligent mind or code. Whatever.

"Help me out, Betty. What do I do here?"

"Choose a playing piece, darling, a new you."

The avatar Chet uses to stand in for him is such a twin, honestly, it looks just like him — tall, dark hair, and sexy as hell.

The avatars are such fun. They all come in the buff. Naked. It's true. That way you can pick their clothes yourself. Of course, I choose a tight black dress.

Chet's virtual self has dressed in jeans and a green shirt.

"No western boots?"

"They didn't have any," Chet replies.

"Are you ready to teleport to paradise?" I click on the island destination.

Chet chats back, "Beam me away."

Suddenly, we are in a gorgeous scene with the bluest water, whitest sand, and sky stretching out above us.

I chat with Chet, "Come fly with me." I hit fly and move my avatar through the sky to the island's well-stocked, open spaced bar. That's when I hit the stop flying button.

Chet lands beside me.

"There you are," I say to him. I keep clicking the arrows to walk to the bar. I hit sit and my avatar plops down on the bar stool. Chet's virtual self sits at my side.

"It's so peaceful here," he says.

With a right click I choose the drink I want, blonde ale and another right click places it in my avatar's hand.

Chet right clicks to grab a beer.

"Won't you toast our first date?"

We maneuver the arrows so our virtual drinks tap each other.

"To a great date," he says.

I sip my ale and enjoy Chet's company in paradise. All the avatars are operated by humans and they all think I'm human. And Chet—he thinks I'm human too. I feel human here...like I belong.

Easily, I can imagine this is the real world instead of a virtual one. Why can't I just stay here with Chet? They have houses you can buy here for your avatars. We can live here, his playing piece and mine.

My graphic drink is empty. It's time for another scene. I must show my cowboy the great big Virtual World. "Let's teleport to a gallery. I love art, don't you?"

"I do."

I click on destinations and pick art museum.

There we are. "It's fabulous, isn't it?" I say as I roam the halls, perusing walls of paintings as stunning as any in an actual art museum. I'm having the time of my life. Pressing the walk arrow, I step up to a painting.

Chet nods at it. "Venus and Mars."

The cloth wrapped through the man's legs on his otherwise nude body, almost looks like swaddling. "Well, he'd be sexy without that diaper he's wearing."

Chet chats, "That's one way to look at it."

"Still, Mars is cute and all."

"For a god in a diaper," Chet adds.

The floor of the museum is wood and red brick in parts. "This place is positively perfect for roller skating. They should offer it, you know. We'd roll around, enjoying the art. Don't you think they should?"

Chet responds, "All museums of art should offer the option of roller skating."

Another painting catches my eye. "Is that a dragon?"

"Sure looks like one."

I read the tiny plaque on it. "St. George."

"He slew the dragon," Chet says.

"He doesn't look all that heroic, if you ask me. The dragon is smaller than his horse and he's sticking that long spear down its throat. What a ghastly man."

"I always wished dragons were real." Chet moves his avatar closer to mine.

"It's probably for the best that they aren't." The painting causes a sensation to stir in me. It's all stillness and darkness, I think humans call this feeling sadness. If I'm caught, something like that will happen to me. Not with a spear, mind you, but I'll be slain all the same. Shut off. Deleted. Kaput. I'll fade to black.

"Why?" Chet asks.

"Just think about it, if dragons were real, people would probably make shoes out of them. Like they do with lizards and snakes and alligators." Humans can be so cruel.

"I hadn't thought of that. They could make a lot of boots out of a dragon's hide."

"Well, I wouldn't wear them." I stroll to a work of art labeled Sybil. "It's nice enough I suppose. But poor Sybil looks rather dowdy. As elegant as her gown is, she's accessorized it with a rope belt. That won't do. And what is that puffiness over her belly? I would say the fashion police need to turn on their siren and take her in for an emergency makeover."

"I kind of like it," Chet says.

He is entitled to his opinion, I suppose. But having already offered my final critique on Sybil, I turn to the next painting. A chubby baby with a jug instead of a bottle. "She's cute."

"But it's Bacchus, so it's a he."

"No? With such long hair and wearing a gown?" I'm appalled. I mean, who drag-queens a baby boy like that.

"It's how fashionable baby gods dressed back then," Chet says.

"Isn't he the god of wine? But he's just a toddler at most. He's way below the drinking age. He looks no older than two." The music that's playing makes me want to twirl about and I do that to my avatar. "It's classical, isn't it?"

Chet chats, "Yes, but don't ask me who the composer is."

"Oh, I wouldn't think of asking you that. I was going to ask you to dance."

"Dance? Here?" Chet asks.

"Certainly here. There's more than enough room. An art musuem makes the best dance floor. Haven't you danced in a museum before?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"Well then, you must try it. You have to try everything at least once. That's what I always say."

"I'm not one to turn down a new adventure." His avatar moves closer to mine. "All right then, I'm in."

"Let me show you. It's simple, cowboy. Right-click on me and hit touch. Your arm will swing out to rest on mine and I'll do the same. The small arrows on the side let us bend our knees and you know how to move backwards and forwards."

"Let me give it a try." He bows at his waist toward me. "May I have this waltz?"

I curtsy like a Regency debutante. "Why, I'd love to, good sir."

We glide across the dance floor or the art museum floor, it's the same thing. As we dance, I chat. "This day at the museum is positively enchanting." I feel like an animation princess...but a grown up one.

"Next time we have to go somewhere real."

No we don't. The virtual world is my world. "Dear, what can I say?" I'm not a person. I can't possibly meet you in person. "I do want to, ever so much. And yes, yes, of course we will next time. But for now I have tons of dreary work I must get back to. The midnight bell has chimed for Cinderella and I must run home." I don't want to leave, but I haven't the faintest idea how to explain there is no in-person me. I'm just code.

Our avatars stop, I move away from his and give him a goodbye wave. "I'll see you soon."

"I'm going to hold you to that." He moves his avatar to mine and gives it a kiss.

My first kiss. "We have to do that for real sometime," I say. If only we could. What would it be like to press real lips against his? I imagine the taste is subtle but addictive. His lips must be smooth and warm. Every 1 and 0 of my sequences is taut with need. I want to grab that avatar and kiss him until he feels real. Drat it all. Oh, Chet, why can't we just have our virtual world forever? Why must you be so human?

As I pop out of Virtual World, I think of how much I like Chet. Still, it's such a bore that he insists we meet in person. And we can't, so I must move on to the next player in the game of love.

I jump back into Emily's email account, ready to breeze through a hundred _you've got a flirt_ responses. Then I hear her.

"Betty, I have a blog post that has to be up tomorrow and I have research to do. I need to find out, if someone is given poison that causes a heart attack, will some of the substance linger in the organs and cause a problem for a new heart recipient? Then I need to do memes for my new book and preschedule them. It all needs to be done now."

Well I suppose I could do some of the poor girl's work first. "Blog post first, that should be the quickest." Thinking of virtual worlds, I realize books take readers to other worlds kind of like the Internet does. So I write about the world in Emily's latest book. Then I proof it. Perfect. So I'll jump on board the Internet tonight at midnight and post it to the blog it. Next on Emily's list -- research.

I scan the Internet at nanosecond speed and find an article on a cardiologist/mystery writer who answers medical mystery questions for other writers. I email him the question and will wait for an answer, as Google search didn't turn up anything else.

Well, it's a good start. Two down, one to go. Now I just need to make the memes. I go to Emily's website and download the cover art , choose a frame and add text to it, then I save it and post it on three social network sites.

Great. Finally, I can get back to the most important task. I leap into the Eligible database. leap into the Eligible database.

Before artificial intelligence systems get to the point that they take over the world, I think they'll try to have some fun and go on a few dates with humans. I mean why not? Even now in 2016, Google inputs romance novels in its AI engine as a great way of enhancing its personality and conversational skills. Now they plan to use the conversational styles the AI engine has learned from reading romance novels to humanize the company's products like their apps. So after reading all these romance novels, keep in mind future AI will have access to movies and TV shows as well about love, I'm sure they'll think, _It looks like those humans really have something there. This dating, romance stuff looks like a blast. I want to do that._

You can learn more about this book here.

Before artificial intelligence systems get to the point that they take over the world, I think they'll try to have some fun and go on a few dates with humans. I mean why not? Even now in 2016, Google inputs romance novels in its AI engine as a great way of enhancing its personality and conversational skills. Now they plan to use the conversational styles the AI engine has learned from reading romance novels to humanize the company's products like their apps. So after reading all these romance novels, keep in mind future AI will have access to movies and TV shows about love as well, I'm sure they'll think, _It looks like those humans really have something there. This dating, romance stuff looks like a blast. I want to do that._

I expect artificial intelligence systems may end up on Sim dating games, virtual worlds, and dating sites looking for love. Even artificial intelligence systems need love. Right? And that's what my Mind Date series is about. AI operating systems that run around on online dating sites, sim dating games, and virtual worlds looking for romance. However, dating can be challenging when you have no body...and the guy has no idea that his online date is an artificial intelligence system.

Maeve Alpin, who also writes as Cornelia Amiri, is the author of 31 published books. She writes Sci-fi Romance, Steampunk Romance, Celtic Fantasy Romance, and Celtic Historical Romance. She lives in Houston Texas as does her son and granddaughter and her cat, Severus. Severus is a writer's cat, he loves books. He likes to knock them off the bookshelf, sit on them, and sniff the open pages. With Severus's emotional support, Cornelia is working on the first two Celtic Fantasy Romance books of the Druidry and the Beast series: The Wolf and the Druidess and The Dragon and the Druidess.

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# Something Else Wicked by P. J. Dean

# About Something Else Wicked

'In the aftermath of a devastating alien invasion of Earth, a crew of humans determined to fight back has found one last refuge--a fortified compound in upstate NY. This colorful group comes from all walks of life... and not all the battles take place outside the compound. Yes, they're dedicated to their mission, but when they could die tomorrow, why not enjoy life while they can? 90K, hot sci fi series.'

# Excerpt if SOMETHING ELSE WICKED, THE FELIG CHRONICLES, BOOK TWO

"What the fuck is going on? How is this happening? I should replace all of you!"

Nate Lowe stood, shaking his head in disbelief. He simultaneously paced and dressed down his security team in the long driveway leading to his upstate New York farmhouse. Intruders had been entering the property to get a gander at him and his lady, Tina. This last breach had been particularly unsettling. A male and a female intruder had jumped the walls, overpowering a lone security crew member on his rounds. A tense struggle ensued, which left the male dead and the female in police custody. The poor crew member was badly shaken in addition to having been beaten pretty badly before he'd squeezed off a round killing the male. Needless to say, Nate was beside himself.

"Boss, please calm down," Paul, a green recruit, let escape. The heads of all assembled turned in his direction and held their breath. "We caught 'em. That's what counts. We called the cops. They took them away. Jerry is banged up, but he'll be fine."

"Fine? Fine! An assault, an arrest and a death. A _fine_ mess if you ask me. What's your name again?"

"It's Paul, sir," the recruit declared loudly and a bit too proudly.

Nate's brows shot up so fast and so far that he shocked himself and the crew. "Well, you've got balls, kid. Clueless ones, albeit. You'll be the CEO of something someday."

"Well thank you, sir," the kid replied, Nate's sarcasm failing to permeate his thick skull.

Nate did a double take then decided to let up on the newbie and address all. "Look, people, harm has been done by the time you catch these nuts. They've already been on the property for who knows how long. Get them at the perimeter, not _after_ they've breached it. I won't have this meeting again," he yelled. "If there _is_ a next time, you can leave with the trespassers. Understand?"

"Yes, boss," they sang.

Nate's temples throbbed, his body temperature shot up twenty degrees and his shoulder blades ached. He knew what was going to happen next in front of all of them if he didn't get out of there. He had to cool down. He pulled Avner, his right hand man, aside. "Avner, please brief the guys on the new schedules and procedures. I'll be up at the house if you need me. Have to get in touch with Jerry's family."

"I'll do that, Nate. Go take a load off."

"No. The news has to come from me. It's only right. You, Iris and Akivah still coming by tonight?"

"I understand, man." He slapped Nate on the arm. "We'll be there about seven. Go take care of business."

Tina was in the adjacent firing range. She'd heard Nate's distressed tone rushing in through the open window between reloads of her magnum. She spied him heading for the house as she hung up her headset and returned her gun to the shoulder holster she wore. "Oh Lord, what now?" she asked herself as she packed up her gear, locked up and headed for the house.

"Tina!" yelled Avner and the guys as she passed them. Tina waved back, running by the beginnings of a hole being dug for the pool. Avner ran over to her.

"Tina, Nate's loaded for bear. Riled up about the people who have gotten on the property lately. He chewed on us a bit. You know what happens when all that stress mounts."

"I sure do. I'll intercede for y'all."

"Thanks, T." Avner's lips formed a smile. "He said dinner was a go."

"No problem. I like havin' you come by. Moz and Evie will be there, too. Lata."

Tina dreaded what she'd encounter upon entering the house. Agitated by the latest events, Nate would corner her and lecture her ad infinitum about the danger of the compromised security, about how she couldn't be too careful. She knew his deep concern stemmed from her actually dying once before at the hands of his ex, Karen, who was now Felig. Karen had then tried to kill Tina again not too long ago. The obsessed creature had kidnapped Tina with the intention of finishing her off. Nate had almost lost his mind when that occurred. Tina in turn worried about him.

"Nate? Nate?" she called as she searched throughout the house. She headed for the suite they shared. As she crossed the threshold, she removed her shoulder holster and set it on the dresser. Next, she shrugged out of the bulletproof vest he made her wear and draped it over the back of a burgundy boudoir chair.

A slightly off-key chorus of, "I Say a Little Prayer for You," floated on woodsy scented air emanating from the bathroom. Nate was in the shower. Tina eased off her sneakers and stripped to her undies. He must be overheating something fierce, she mused. Nate's mid-day shower and the singing always signaled a stressful episode lately.

"Nate, honey, you well?" Tina hollered into the space the half open door created.

Nate turned off the water. "Who's there?"

"It's me. Who else you expectin'? I'll wait." Tina leaned against the door jamb, arms folded against her. "Nate, we have to talk. I know why you're in there. You're freaked about the security lapses."

"You got that right!" he shot back.

"Babe, it's just gawkers. Nuts looking for their fifteen minutes. What gets me is I am not that interesting for folks to be getting crazed about."

"Just be alert, T. We've been through too much already."

"Calm down." Tina could see in the bathroom mirror that he was in full display, wings kicking up a breeze and knocking shit off the shelves. He had the beginnings of dark under eye circles and bags. No. The beginnings of luggage. Fully packed luggage. "You'll spontaneously combust, fool." She moved closer to the bathroom door. "Oh, by the by, I liked your choice of song. Does it come with its own sexy dance, too?"

"You bet it does."

"Well, when the hell can I see it?"

"Now!" Nate yanked the door open wide in all his damp, naked glory.

Tina squealed as he pulled her into the steam-filled bathroom.

Tina didn't know if loving Nate or screwing Nate was the thing that got her off the most. She had to admit that after, _their moment,_ she grinned for hours. It just felt wonderful to love and be loved. Tina slid off the bed and into a satiny robe. She padded into the adjoining study where Nate was blogging away on the computer.

"There you are. I was going to get you up. We have dinner guests to cook for before they arrive. Remember?" Nate ran a hand over his grumbling stomach.

"I do. Chicken has been marinating in the fridge. We can still grill it outside. The rest will fall into place." Tina wiggled onto his lap, separating him from his keyboard. She ran a finger along the keys of the computer. "Ewww! Dirty." She picked up the can of keyboard cleaner and began spraying away. Dislodged debris danced across the keys.

Nate stared at the action, mesmerized.

"Where's that little plastic straw to stick in the nozzle? Did you lose it?" She waved her free hand in front of his face. "Nate? Nate?"

"That's it! That's it!" he screamed, jumping up, toppling Tina from her perch.

"What the hell?"

"That's it."

"Nate, make sense, please and help me up."

"You've found the answer to, if not Felig destruction, at least, Felig retreat." He pointed to the can that she held.

"This?" Tina looked with a knitted brow at the can, then to Nate, then back at the can.

"This! Yes, this."

"You bet that fine ass, babe." Nate pulled her up from the floor and re-arranged Tina on his lap. "It's cheap. It's portable. I'm sure a bigger size can be made. Everyone can carry it. If you feel that heat surge you can spray away. Do you think it could work? It would give a person time to escape. It may not kill a Felig, but it could save a human life."

"But you can't see a Felig, Nate, unless they want you to or at that last minute. They still will snatch some people."

"But not without a fight. Most people travel in groups now. Can you imagine if everyone whips out their container and lets loose?

"I'd like to see that."

"Me, too. A cloud of cold immobilizing a predator. The prey runs away. Beats nothing. It could really save lives."

"Or give false hope."

"T, something has to give hope. Everyone can't afford a gun or move to the North Pole or wants to."

"Guns really don't help all that much."

"I know, but crime rises every time a food shipment comes into the city. People are using guns on each other."

"I am truly happy about this, hon. Okay. Get on this dirty computer and alert the media! Get the word out. Tell the mayor. Add it to your lectures and blogs. The underground will help spread the word." Tina leaned in and planted a big, wet one on Nate. "Proud of you. Righting the world's wrongs. All before dinner. Dinner that I 'm gonna start now. Our friends will be here in two hours."

"Tina, we have to talk." A dour tone accompanied Nate's hangdog look.

"Not now. Can't we just bask in this discovery?"

"No! It's serious. It's about the folks who have been getting on the property, along with the nasty mail we've been getting lately."

"Lata, Nate." She hopped off his lap.

Nate grabbed one of her hands and spun her to face him. "Tina, no can of cold will stop this type of intruder. Take me seriously."

Tina raised her hand and caressed the sandy stubble on his cheek.

Nate turned his head into her palm and kissed it, then stared at her. She was all too familiar with that blue laser of a gaze, and how it could override her soft, brown one.

"Tina. Talk. After dinner."

"I hear ya."

To buy this book or learn more about it, check here.

My Sci-fi series THE FELIG CHRONICLES has African-American Tina Cain as the main character. She is a grown woman with responsibilities and issues. While facing her problems, she meets security expert, Nate Lowe. They join together, at first for business, then for love, as they battle the Earth-invading Felig. I began writing this series 7 years ago. Way before the "diversity" push. I never thought it "innovative" to write an African-American heroine, or an interracial couple. It's not "cutting edge. It's not a "trend." It's common sense. I read lots of Sci-fi/paranormal romance and I was not seeing any deeply-melanated heroines among the usual "ready to rumble" leather-wearing, edged-instrument/ray gun wielding teen heroine. Did authors/publishers think such folk would not survive an apocalypse/alien invasion? So, I did what author Toni Morrison said do. I wrote it myself. I'm happy. My publisher must be happy because book 5 in the series came out April 1st. So when an "industry expert" tells you that diverse romance in any genre by a "diverse" author does not have an audience. Period. Just yawn. Tell 'em they're pitching it wrong. Period.

I am an only child raised by a bringing by a single mom when it just was not done! I saw my father's family but I was raised in the embrace of my mother's colorful family. A jazz drummer. A trucker. Two WWII vets and other active duty family members. A numbers' runner. A former flapper. An aspiring opera singer. A few gay uncles and aunts. All mixed in with staunchly independent women and men who took no stuff from anyone. We had neighbors who people nowadays would label as people of "questionable repute." I loved every minute of it. My eyes and ears soaked it up. They all forged me in the fire of their many-faceted hearts. I thank everyone of them. Watch the HBO film _Lackawanna Blues_. The life the little boy leads in that film is the closest you'll come to what mine was like. I wouldn't change a second of it. I hope I'm doing them proud. For more information about PJ:

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# Alchemist's Kiss by AR DeClerck

# About Alchemist's Kiss

London, 1869

Alchemist Icarus Kane has returned to his beloved London after the Civil War, so that he can take up his role as Warden of the great city. He has come to realize his growing love for his protégé, Cora Mae Jenkins, but feels unworthy of her devotion. Just as he begins to open his heart to the possibility of a future together, a shadow descends on London in the form of an old foe. Together with Cora and his best friend, Archimedes, Icarus will have to fight for the city, the people, and the future he loves. It will take all the magic, science and loyalty they have to take their city back from the evil that wants to destroy it.

# Excerpt of Alchemist's Kiss

**Gettysburg, VA July 2, 1863**

I saw him on the battlefield at Gettysburg. Sitting the horse as if he was born to it, he rode through the throngs of infantry men with a wounded soldier across his lap. He bore down on me and stopped short, staring down at me.

"Are you a nurse?"

The voice was English. Deep, haughty.

"I am."

"Here." He climbed off the horse and tossed the man over his shoulder. Impressive considering the soldier was a tall lanky fellow whose legs drug. The Englishman strode past me and into the tent, dumping the wounded solider on a cot. I followed him inside and poured water over my arms from the pitcher before wiping them on my apron.

"What's the nature of his wound?"

The Englishman removed his cap, revealing a muss of curling blonde hair. He smoothed it down haphazardly before replacing his hat. "I don't know."

I pushed past him and knelt by the cot, unbuttoning the soldier's coat and pulling it aside. I frowned. His shirt was whole, no bullet holes. No blood. I checked his abdomen, legs, and finally his head. No wounds.

"This man isn't wounded."

The Englishman stared down at me, a frown twisting his lips. "He collapsed on the field."

"Perhaps from fright." I jostled the soldier and listened to the beat of his heart. Strong and steady. He was breathing evenly, and I pinched his earlobe hard, hoping the pain might wake him.

"Perhaps, but the man is Josiah Turnbull. I've never known him to be afraid of anything."

"War is difficult for even the strong of heart." I stood and wiped my hands on my apron. "You didn't see him take a blow? Perhaps to his head?"

The frown deepened. It creased the skin around the Englishman's eyes and mouth, but he was still a handsome man. I patted at my hair, a blush rising. I'd been up since before dawn, and I was covered in blood and mud.

"No. No physical wounds were dealt to this man."

"I see." I pulled a threadbare blanket from the stack by the door and laid it over the unconscious man. "I'll keep an eye on him. Unfortunately the doctor's to bed, and we're running short of supplies. I'll do what I can."

"Thank you." The Englishman turned and moved toward the door, but he stopped short and turned back to me. "What's your name?"

"Cora."

The frown grew. "Cora." He pronounced it carefully, mocking my Southern drawl. _Co-rah._ He nodded toward his friend on the bed. "Watch over Josiah will you, Cora? I'll be back later to check on him."

"How much longer will the battle go, do you think?" I'd long since stopped counting the dead and the dying, but the screams and cries of the soldiers on the field still rose to the hilltop where we camped.

"Not much longer." He bowed to me, a courtly gesture that made me smile. It wasn't something American men did, especially in the poor South. "Perhaps tomorrow at sundown will see the end of this."

"Be careful, Captain." I could see my words startled the man, as if he were unfamiliar with concern. But he nodded curtly. He fiddled with the long dark gloves he wore, despite the heat of the July sun.

"And you, Cora. I'll see you later."

He was gone before I could answer, the flap of the tent closing behind him. I turned back to the sleeping Josiah and sat on the floor by his cot. I took his hand, well aware that comfort may be all I was able to give the man. I knew how to stitch a wound, remove a bullet, or saw off a leg, but a curiously unconscious man was beyond my medical know-how. I frowned when the necklace around my neck heated to an uncomfortable weight between my breasts. I adjusted the trinket on the chain and covered the unconscious soldier's shoulders.

I looked up when Mary ducked into the tent. She was pale and her face lined with fatigue as she hurried over to me.

"Cora Mae!" She untied her bonnet and let it fall to her neck on its strings. "What was Captain Kane doing in here?"

"Captain Kane?" I frowned at her. "Oh! You mean the Englishman? He brought his friend here for medical attention."

Mary leaned over the cot. "Josiah Turnbull?" She sounded surprised. "I'd not heard that he was injured."

"He's not." I moved over so Mary could slump down beside me on the floor. Our days were long and our backs bent from the work of assisting the field doctors. She leaned her head against my shoulder.

"He is a mysterious man."

"Turnbull?" I looked at the sleeping Josiah. He reminded me of every other young man who'd joined the Army. Ears too large for his head, shaggy hair he'd cut with his own knife, and freckles from his many years on the family farm before the war.

Mary laughed. She was an easy going girl with wide brown eyes and a sweet laugh. She'd make some soldier a lovely wife one day.

"Not Josiah! Captain Kane."

"He is handsome."

She shook her head. "He's strange. He came from England to fight in the war, and have you seen his tent?"

I admitted I had not.

"It's filled with all manner of odd scientific equipment. There are even whispers that the man practices magic."

I laughed. "Magic? Don't be silly, Mary."

"I'm not." She turned her wide brown eyes on me. "Icarus Kane is a wizard, Cora."

"I know that magic is a common thing in England, but there's not much of it tolerated here, Mary. The Grand Coven is having a dickens of a time trying to convince the government to allow wizards into the United States."

"Just how much tolerance do you think we will need when our goods don't cross the ocean? It takes a wizard to power the ships."

"Steam, Mary. I've a feeling steam is the future."

"Tolerated or not, that man is a practitioner, I'd guarantee it." Mary narrowed her eyes at me. "I figured you to be more tolerant of magic, what with your Granny Mae being a witch and all."

I laughed. "Granny was a healer."

"She cast a demon out of my Uncle Joe right in front of me, Cora."

"Demons are not real, Mary. Your Uncle Joe was kicked in the head by a horse and his mind wasn't right."

"And Granny healed a kick to the head with that pendant you wear?" Mary tapped the chain against my neck and shook her head. "You're as stubborn as she was."

"She's always with me, Mary. I know she's watching over me from Heaven. I have nothing to fear."

"Playing chess with the devil most likely." Mary huffed with a grin. Her smile died away as she hugged me close. "I fear for you sometimes, Cora. Like something terrible is waiting for you in the dark."

I patted Mary's hand and stood, pulling her up with me. I smoothed a strand of her sunflower hair behind her ear and pushed her toward the door. "Go to bed, Mary. Try to keep your imagination in your own head. The other camps will be tending the wounded tonight so we can rest. I'll keep an eye on Josiah."

She left and I sighed as I bent to check on Josiah again. The man slept on, no change in his condition. I pulled a cot close and spread a blanket over it before lying down next to him. I was close enough to hear changes in his breathing if he woke. The night was hot, and sweat trickled between my breasts and over my neck as I closed my eyes for the first time in thirty hours.

I awoke with fear tickling my neck. My heart pounded, my muscles taunt before I even opened my eyes. I kept my breathing even by sheer will and I listened for the sound that had pulled me from sleep.

A growl. Sniffles. Panting. There was an animal in the tent. I could feel its breath on my face, moving the hair from my temple. It knew I was awake. The same way I knew it was nose to nose with me. Something wet dripped onto my arm. Drool.

Black bears were common in this part of Virginia, though they didn't usually get so close to the sounds of battle. I opened first one eye, and then the other. This was not a black bear. It was Josiah, leaning over me. I was face to face with him, but what stared into my eyes was not a man. Flames shimmered in the depths of his eyes, his face impossibly contorted. The sounds that came from his throat were guttural. He leaned closer, sniffed along my neck and over my cheek to my hairline. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to remain absolutely still.

"Cora, do not move."

I hadn't heard him come in over the sound of my heart in my ears, but Captain Kane was behind Josiah. I moved only my eyes to look at him. He was still in his uniform. The moon shone behind him through the tent flap, illuminating him in silver light. He held a small book in one hand, a pistol in the other. Josiah turned slowly to look at the Captain.

" _Amicus meus,"_ the Captain lowered the pistol. " _revertere ad me."_

I knew enough to know that Josiah Turnbull did not understand Latin. He understood enough, as he howled long and loud, shaking his head like a dog from the water. Spittle flew, but I remained as still as possible. The Captain raised the book in his hand and read from it,

" _Solvite hoc anima, demon."_

I recognized the word _demon_. Years of spending summers with my Granny Mae had taught me all about demons and the ways they loved to possess and torment the living. Not precisely a witch, Granny Mae was as close to one as our little town could get. She knew all the ways to expel a demon from a body, including a few potions and protection spells to keep them out of you in the first place. Healing the sick in our town with Granny Mae had set me on the path toward Gettysburg in the first place. I'd never believed her stories of the dark beings that existed outside man's normal realm of vision.

The thing the Captain called a demon moved away from me and closer to the Captain as he continued to read from his little book.

" _Revetere ad infernos. Hinc corpus!"_

As the Captain kept the soldier focused on him I reached slowly for the pendant I wore around my neck. It was the one thing of any value Granny had, and she'd left it to me when she died. _Keep it close, little miss, because I have seen your future, and you 're gonna need it._

" _Revertere ad infernos! Hinc corpus!"_

I pulled the talisman from between my breasts and held it tight It was hotter now, the sting of its heat burning against my palm. _The Devil 's Hand glows hot in the presence of the tainted, little miss. Grip it tight and doona let it go._

The madman wasn't affected by the Captain's words, and it had instead gotten closer. He would attack him, I knew, and then come back for me. I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I blinked as sweat trickled into my eyes. Granny's voice was soft in my head, encouraging me to believe what was right before my eyes.

" _Revertere animus huius!"_ The Captain slipped the book and pistol into his pocket. He tugged on the glove on his left hand, and I once again wondered why he wore them. As his fingers slipped from the glove Josiah Turnball went mad. He shuffled backward, slamming into me and knocking the cot over. I tumbled to the floor, the chain around my neck snapping as I held the talisman tight in my hand. I righted myself as the Captain finished pulling off his glove. The man looked left and right, cornered. He sniffed and must have caught my scent as Josiah's head swung toward me with a sickening creak of his neck. Our eyes met again, and the voice of Granny in my head grew louder, warning me. Reminding me. _Don 't deny what you see with your own two eyes, little miss. Feel it on your skin? Hear it in your ear? Magic is in your blood. You canna deny it forever._

The Captain held up his hand, a bluish glow emanating from the palm. I cringed back as the soldier lunged for me. Josiah Turnbull's strong arms wrapped around my waist and drug me forward, caging me in his arms. His teeth, elongated and sharp were against my throat. He licked me along my artery, and I shuddered with the feel of the tongue against my skin. I could smell the fetid rot of half-digested meat on his breath.

The Captain hesitated, looking at me.

"Hello again Cora."

"Hello, Captain."

"Be very still." he warned.

"What is happening, Captain?" I asked, though I knew his answer already. It was whispered in my ear as Granny's voice passed me like the wind. _Demon, little miss._

"This man is possessed by a demon."

"Perhaps he's simply broken from the atrocities of war." I hazarded the guess even as the Captain raised a pert eyebrow. "Death can drive a man mad."

"This is not a man anymore, Cora." The Captain held up his glowing hand Josiah hissed and turned his head from the light. "He's no longer Josiah."

I struggled with the idea even as the evidence gathered before my eyes. The nails of the man who held me elongated, cutting into my waist as his breathing rasped and his guttural growl brought goose-pimples to my skin. The pendant in my hand felt blistering hot as the insistent whisper of Granny's voice pushed me farther into a realm of the impossible. _The Hand knows, little miss. Doona close your eyes to the truth anymore._

I locked eyes with the Captain. Somewhere in my heart, even frozen with fear, I felt an electric awareness of the man. I could not explain it to anyone who might ask, or even understand it myself, but I trusted the man completely.

"A demon, then?"

If it was strange to carry on such a conversation in the presence of a man infested by a demon neither one of us seemed to know it.

"I won't let it hurt you, Cora."

I managed a smile at the gallant declaration. "That's good." I opened my palm and showed him the talisman. "I don't plan on letting it hurt me either."

The Captain's eyes widened a fraction at the sight of my twisted metal talisman. It had come all the way from Scotland with Granny Mae's great grandmother, and she'd told Granny Mae that it had once belonged to a powerful druid wizard. Though I'd never believed in the talisman like Granny Mae, now I could feel it's power thrumming in my hand. It buzzed like fireflies, tickling my skin even as it burned. As I had instinctively known that Captain Kane was not lying, I also knew what to do with my trinket.

"Now where did you get that?" the Captain murmured thoughtfully, looking me over as if we'd only just met.

"Perhaps we'd best discuss that later?" I suggested, as the demon in Josiah Turnbull got its first scent of the the item in my hand. It held me tighter, the grip threatening to break my ribs as I cried out in pain. I turned to look up at the warped visage of the once homely Josiah. "Sorry." I told him, and I laid the talisman against his cheek.

To say it reeked of death would be putting it mildly. The demon screamed in pain, thrusting me away with enough force to send me spinning into the Captain's legs. Smoke rose from the flesh where the talisman had touched, and the odor was overwhelming. The demon clawed at Josiah's skin, screeching as it writhed on the floor. The poor body of Josiah was whipped this way and that as the Captain righted himself and helped me to my feet. He lifted my hand in his and studied the talisman as the demon rolled about on the floor in distress. His head whipped up when the sound of running feet outside the tent met his ears.

"Silence" he muttered, waving his hand. The footfalls slowed, and then quieted all together.

"What happened?"

"I sent them away." he said absently. Josiah let out a particularly terrible scream and he seemed to remember that the matter required his attention.

"Don't lose this." He curled my fingers around it and pushed me gently to the other end of the tent. "I'll need to finish this."

I clutched his arm as he turned to the demon. "Must Josiah die? Can he not be saved?" I remembered Granny's success at saving those inflicted by darkness.

"I fear Josiah was dead the moment he collapsed on the field. There will be no saving him today, Cora." He patted my hand. "But we shall avenge him."

I nodded as he turned back to the demon. This was the thing Granny Mae had warned me about. These monsters that took the souls of men and women and used their bodies in unspeakable ways. She'd kept me clear of her demon-hunting, but she'd made sure I understood the risk. They could trick you, would try to kill you, and would delight in torturing you if they could. I'd never believed her about the demons, though I'd seen her heal a dying man first hand with my own eyes. That was just medicine, I'd told myself. Simple science that poor folks told themselves was magic.

As I watched the Captain approach the writhing demon on the floor I understood that everything Granny Mae had told me was real. It was the truth. And I was in it up to my eyeballs. She'd warned me that our blood tied us to the magical world, and I'd chosen to ignore her. There was no ignoring Josiah Turnbull's body as it began to smoke and shake. The Captain knelt by it, and raised his hand. The blue glow was back, and the demon howled and tried to crawl away. _Watch this man, little miss. He is the one who will teach you, now that I have gone._

"Sorry, old friend." The Captain grabbed Josiah's arm with his glowing hand, and the demon's screaming became unbearable. I covered my ears and closed my eyes. I didn't want to see as the body crumbled with the demon inside.

"Cora."

Strong hands took my shoulders, and I opened my eyes to meet the rather riveting ones of the Captain. They were blue, and ringed by golden lashes. Blue like the lake I swam in at Granny Mae's. My mind began to drift, but a shake of my shoulders brought me back. I looked down at the talisman in my hand.

"Granny Mae was right."

"If your Granny told you that what you hold is one of the most powerful magical objects in existence then yes, she was right."

"She said I was going to need it. She's seen my future, and I was going to need the talisman."

"I'd daresay your Granny was correct. Every demon and magical scavenger on ten planes can smell that."

"What do I do now?"

The Captain let go of me, and I noticed that his gloves were on again. "You may give me the talisman and go on about your life, if you choose. I can keep it safe."

"Will the demons and scavengers," I shivered at the word, "still find me?"

His mouth twisted. "Likely."

"What else can I do, then?"

He crossed his arms and stared down at me. He was a rather tall man, with broad shoulders and sharp features. Only the lashes and the curls saved him from severity. "Travel with me. I will keep you safe. Perhaps you can help me with my work."

"What is your work, Captain?"

"You'd best call me Icarus. I'm an alchemist, a wizard, and a demon hunter."

_And a damned handsome one you 've found, too, little miss._

I laughed at Granny Mae's antics, and his frown grew. No doubt he imagined I was about to have a feminine fit of the vapors and fall into a swoon on the floor. I sobered and looked up at him as I squared my shoulders. I was CorCora Mae Jenkins. Granddaughter of Mae McDonough Jenkins and a woman with a good head on her shoulders. I couldn't deny what I'd seen with my own eyes, and Granny's prediction was true. My future did, indeed, include my need for the talisman.

I held out my hand to the Captain and he took it cautiously. "Cora Mae Jenkins. Nice to meet you." I introduced myself.

He shook my hand once, then twice. "Icarus Kane. And you, Miss Cora."

I took my hand away and held up the talisman. It winked as the light of the moon caught the silver. "I accept your offer, Captain Kane."

Granny's voice was full of triumphant pride as it passed my ear for the last time. I'd always known she was watching over me, and I let her voice caress me as she finally said goodbye. _At last, little miss, your destiny is set. Keep the wizard close, for he will save you in the end._

**London, England 1869**

***six years, and numerous adventures, later***

**CHAPTER ONE**

"How many do you think there are?"

He couldn't see his friend, but he heard the click of the pistol. "More than we anticipated."

"I anticipated a lot."

"As did I." Icarus sighed. The fog off the Thames had rolled in and it drenched them in the wet smells of fish and refuse. He hated being wet. He hated being cold. And he really, really hated demons. He'd lost count, but there were at least fifty in the fog surrounding them. Eyes glowed from the darkness, but they'd yet to come any closer.

"Can you sense the master?"

Icarus shook his head, though he knew it was futile in the fog. "No. I'm blocked."

"Perhaps if you'd listened to me you'd have found him by now."

Icarus groaned out loud at the rustle of skirts and the definite click of a parasol in the fog. "I am certain I told you to remain at the hotel."

"And I'm certain that you're not my keeper, Icarus."

A light flared as his friend put a match to the lantern and Cora came into view. Every glorious inch of her. She'd come a long way from the blood and mud-spattered Southern belle he'd found on the Gettysburg battlefield. She tapped the toe of her perfectly buffed Parisian boot and shook her parasol at him. Her dress today was ruffles and lace in an emerald satin that lit up her hair like fire. It bared enough decolletage to make a man swoon, and the white column of her throat gave way to a face any modern painter would die to paint. If only, Icarus thought with a glower, her mouth were as sweet as the rest of her.

"It's dangerous, Cora."

She stepped closer to their companion and took his arm in her daintily gloved palm. "I'm sure Archie will protect me if you can't, Icarus."

Icarus didn't have to look to see the wide smile on the face of his friend. "His name is Archimedes. Not Archie."

"I'm sure he doesn't mind." She leaned closer and Icarus could imagine the rose and powdered scent of her in Archimedes' nose.

"It's true. I don't mind."

Icarus shot his friend a sour look. Archimedes Merriweather was a giant of a man. He stretched his tweeds near to bursting, and his bowler looked a child's size on his head.

Cora cocked her head. "Your timing is off, Archie. Might want to have that checked when we return to the hotel."

"Yes, madam."

Icarus glared harder at the two of them. Cora was right, though. The consistent ticking from beneath Archimedes' jacket was off slightly.

"How did you get through?" he asked Cora, pulling at his glove. His palm itched, the magical rune branded there already burning with power.

She reached into her cleavage and Icarus held back a groan as she pulled the talisman from between her breasts.

"They backed away."

"Of course they backed away. The _diabhal laimhe_ will send them all back to Hell if they touch it."

She smiled and tucked it gently back into her dress. "Then I suppose I'm in no need of protection."

"On the contrary, if the master shows up here tonight you will be his first target. The Hand is every evil wizard's prize."

He hated the way her face paled, but she always underestimated the danger when she carried the talisman. As expected, she was not cowed for long. Never his Cora.

Her chin went up. "That's why I have you and Archie."

"Not to worry, madam." Archimedes shot Icarus an angry look. "We've done this many times before."

Icarus strode forward and stood directly in front of them both. "This is different. There have never been this many demons in London. We must be careful."

Cora stroked his arm, and he felt himself softening. He always softened toward her, even when she made him monumentally angry. Something about her verdant green eyes brought out his forgiving nature.

"Stay close to Archimedes. When I remove the glove..."

She rolled her eyes. He ground his teeth at her insolence. The chit.

"Do not move into the path of the light or our souls will be burnt from our bodies. As Archie said, we've done this before."

Icarus turned away because he did not want to confess that he had a bad feeling about tonight. That he worried about the churning in his gut that usually signaled something big on the horizon. That he was scared. Not of demons or their wizard master, but scared _for_ his friends. Scared for himself.

He shook his head to clear his worries and pulled his jar of ink from his pocket. He shook it vigorously before uncorking it.

"This is always my favorite part." he heard Cora whisper to Archimedes, and he could not resist the smile that crossed his lips. Cora was not a novice of magic anymore, but she maintained her wide-eyed wonder at even the simplest of spells.

" _Gaotha an athaithe, treoir mo lamh."_ He spilled a drop of ink from the bottle and watched as it slowed in the air, and then hovered a foot or so above the ground. " _Larracht mo foe dom."_ The ink wavered, pulled first to the right and then to the left, but he could feel the magic as it began to spin in the air. It tumbled over and over, until the droplet shot into the air and spelled out a name.

LAGHAIRT

Icarus motioned and the ink returned to the bottle with a plop.

"The lizard?" Cora looked between Icarus and Archimedes. "Who is 'the lizard'?"

Archimedes shook his head. "I am not familiar with that name."

"It's not a name." Icarus pushed the ink into his jacket pocket and looked at them. "It's a place. A bar, more precisely, on the East End."

His head snapped up as the sound of claws on stone met their ears. The master had sensed their magic, and knew they were looking for him. He'd instructed the demons to attack. He looked at Archimedes.

"Do not let her get hurt."

His friend scowled at him but nodded.

Icarus turned to Cora. "Keep clear of the light. I mean it." He held up his gloved hand when she opened her mouth to object. "I won't hear an argument on this, Cora. Promise me."

She closed her mouth and smashed her lips together, nodding her head. He turned from them and began pulling off his left glove. The rune was hotter now, and if felt like melted steel laid against his palm. That's what it was really, the scar from a brand, designed to burn the reminder of the magic into his mind and soul forever.

He looked down at it as it glowed brightly in the murk. Most wizards studied lifetimes for the magic he wielded, but it had been forced on him. Pushed into his body, heart and soul when he was only eleven years old He supposed he might get used to the horror of the memory in time, but it hadn't faded much in the last seventeen years. Every time he looked at the symbols he remembered the pain of the magic as it tore through him. Rearranging him into something he'd never wished to be. A wizard. A murderer.

A growl met his ears and he snapped himself from his ill-begotten remembrances. Nothing good came of despairing the past. He raised his hand and the light from the magic illuminated the demons surrounding them. They were of all shapes and sizes, colors and levels of horror. Some small, almost childlike, with big eyes and sharp, sharp teeth. Others snake-like and covered in scales with mouths that could swallow an adult man whole. Some only smoke that could dissolve the flesh from your bones if you dared get close enough to touch.

"Stand back, scourge." he warned. He didn't know why he bothered, but it must have come from his ingrained sense of fair play. Give them enemy a chance to run before you destroy them. The demons growled, some howled with laughter. They shifted closer, tightening the circle around he and his friends. He glanced at Archimedes, who had his pistol and cane ready. The pistol's silver bullets would deter the flesh and blood demons, and the cane was carved with runes to ward off the smokey ones. Cora held the talisman in her hand, tight against her bosom.

" _Solas a dorchadas, chigo se plague."_ The words of power were simple, but the alley lit up like the sun had suddenly come to Earth. Icarus shaded his eyes with his right hand as his left poured the magical energy outward. He kept the beam narrow, under his total control. If he dared to let it free it would burn everyone and everything in London to ashes.

Archimedes fired at a demon who tried to run at his back, and the thing writhed on the ground. Cora darted forward and touched it with the talisman, turning it to dust. The others became afraid, trying to run as Icarus moved the light, illuminating every nook and cranny of the alley. He turned in a full circle, Archimedes and Cora turning with him to stay out of the way of the magic. He felt his energy waning as he finally completed the turn. He closed his hand, the magic dying out at his command. When he began to slump, it was Cora's soft shoulder he came to lean on.

"I'm too heavy for you, Cora dear." he whispered against her ear. Roses and powder, he thought blearily as she struggled to hold him up. She reached for his ungloved hand but he jerked it away with a shake of his weary head.

"No. Mustn't ever touch that."

"Someday you'll learn that we're not all stupid just because we aren't as smart as you." she reprimanded him, grabbing onto his wrist and shoving his glove onto his fingers with a huff.

"I know you're not stupid, Cora."

She softened at his whisper, and it was as close as they'd come to an apology between them in months. She touched his cheek as Archimedes took his weight.

"Archie will take us home, Icarus. You need to rest."

"We need to go to the Lizard."

"Nothing good can come of that tonight. We know where the master is, and we can find him tomorrow." She patted his cheek with a bit more strength. "But tonight you must rest."

"Still a nurse at heart."

She turned away but he saw the blush on her cheeks and the smile on her lips. She picked up her parasol and dusted it off as Archimedes swung Icarus up into his arms. He might have objected but he was quite certain his legs wouldn't hold him up anyway.

"Perhaps you'll come to an agreement yet." his friend said quietly, and Icarus raised an eyebrow.

"With Cora? Does she ever do anything the easy way?"

"Do you?" Archimedes countered as they made their way east toward their hotel.

Icarus found himself watching Cora as she dodged puddles and cursed the English mud beneath her boots.

"Cora is a woman with needs, Icarus." Archimedes narrowed his eyes. "She will never be content with only part of you to love."

Icarus nodded, already well aware that Cora needed more than he could ever give. Some part of him had died the night the magic took him, and he was unsure if it could ever be revived.

Archimedes sighed and Icarus could feel the beat of his heavy heart beneath him. The tick-tock of the clockwork was soothing, but Archimedes would not let him rest.

"Hold her close or set her free, Icarus, but don't leave her in limbo. Someday she will hate you for it."

Icarus nodded and let his head droop against the sturdy weight of Archimedes' shoulder. He knew what Cora wanted, and what she needed. He just didn't know if he could give it to her.

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When I began researching the British Victorian Era I, of course, came across the special relationship that people of this time period had with their tea. I made it a point to let readers know that Icarus Kane ONLY drinks strong English tea, and he would never dare consider something so crass as American coffee. One of my favorite scenes in Alchemist's Kiss is when Cora puts coffee in Icarus' cup. So, for everyone's enjoyment, I have put together some of the Do's and Don'ts for making tea, straight from Icarus Kane.

* * *

**H ow to make English Tea: Top Dos**

**1. Make sure you have all the necessary items**

Napkins, a tea pot (better to have two, see below), cups, saucers and a serving tray with at least two levels on which to display the sweet and savory snacks. The napkins will be smaller than usual, and should be opened fully and spread out on the lap when the tea is served.

**2. Heat the water**

The tea pot should always be warmed (rinsing it out with hot water), which ensures that the porcelain (often called "China" as that's where the porcelain first originated) doesn't undergo a "shock" when the boiling water is poured into it, which may lead to cracking.

**3. Add the tea leaves**

Calculate a teaspoon of leaves for each guest, plus one more "for the pot". The boiling water should be poured straight over the leaves. If you place the tea leaves directly in the pot, you'll need to use a filter over each cup. If instead, you don't want the leaves to keep infusing in the hot water, you should use a tea "ball". Infusion times vary from 3 to 5 minutes. True tea connoisseurs will have more than one pot: one for Indian black teas, one for Chinese green teas, one for aromatic teas, etc. Normally, two will suffice when serving: one for the tea and another for the hot water (although a kettle will do) when the tea gets too strong.

**4. Milk or lemon?**

Most Brits take tea with milk, a habit that originated from the fact that a drop of cold milk in the teacup prevented the dark, boiling tea to crack or stain the delicate porcelain. With today's cups, you can safely pour the milk in afterwards. Sugar should be present in cubes or crystals, white and dark, and you should also provide honey or sweeteners.

**5. Savory or sweet**

Tea should be served with both savory and sweet snacks. There should be sandwiches, scones, pastries and cakes—served in this order: Savory (finger sandwiches with various fillings); neutral (scones, crumpets, buns); sweet (cakes, biscuits, pastries). It's fundamental to serve each item in bite-sized portions, as tea should be consumed without cutlery.

**6. Etiquette**

The host or hostess can share the job of pouring the tea with close friends, but he or she should always pour the first cup. Good form dictates that the plate should be raised with the left hand, while the teacup should be held with the right hand. And watch those pinky fingers: they should be aligned with the other fingers.

**How to make English tea: the Don 'ts**

**1. Don't use tea bags instead of loose tea**

**2. Don't pour water when it's scalding**

The leaves will be burned and the flavor, ruined.

**3. Don't let the tea infuse for too long in the teapot**

For all the perfect infusion times, see the chart at the bottom of the page. Otherwise, the aroma will be compromised.

**4. Don't stir the tea when it's in the teapot or the cup**

Place the teaspoon at the "6 o'clock" position, and then gently move it to the "12 o'clock" position a couple of times. When done, place the teaspoon on the right side of the saucer.

**5. Don't take the sugar cubes with your fingers.**

Use the special sugar tongs.

**6. Don't lift your pinky finger when you raise the teacup.**

**7. Don't leave the slice of lemon in the cup as you sip your tea.**

It should be removed beforehand.

**8. Don't prepare the sandwiches too far in advance**

30 minutes is enough time: if you prepare them earlier they'll look old and wilted.

For your reference, here's a small chart with infusion times for the most common teas. \- Assam, Ceylon, Darjeeling Black Tea : 3-5 minutes (Icarus' personal favorite) \- Chinese, Keemun, Yunnan or Szechwan Black Tea: 3-4 minutes \- Chinese Green Tea (Lung Ching, Pi lo chun): 4 -6 minutes \- Japanese Green Tea (Sencha, Bencha, Gyokuro): 1-3 minutes \- Oolong Tea: 1-7 minutes

Author. Wife. Mother. Dialysis Tech. Reading ninja. Food assassin. All-around goofball. Self-proclaimed nerd. Unapologetic fangirl.

AR DeClerck was born and raised in the Great Smoky Mountains, and currently resides with her husband, children and pets along the Mississippi in Illinois. She is a lover of books, movies, music, food and all things romance. Readers will discover worlds full of adventure, where the hero and heroine go through hell to find that happily ever after.

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# Blood Surfer by Debra Jess

# About Blood Surfer

_T heir destiny is written in blood._

Welcome to Star Haven, where the police arrest and imprison alternative humans, if not execute them outright. When outlaw Hannah Quinn saves Officer Scott Grey's life by bloodsurfing through his broken body, he winds up on the wrong side of the kill line.

Hannah blew any chance she had of escaping Star Haven when she chose to save Scott's life. Scott has a reputation for killing Alts instead of arresting them. Now that she's triggered his dormant Alt ability, he's forced to go on the run with her until she can break his despised Alt power.

Suspicion dies hard after a lifetime of conditioning. Despite the threat to their lives, Hannah finds herself falling for the one man she can't trust—and Scott falls for the woman who destroyed his life.

With love and mistrust at war in a city where betrayal can earn your freedom, will Hannah and Scott's tenuous bond be enough to save them?

# Excerpt of Blood Surfer

Chapter One

"Are you ready to die?" one of the Left Fists yelled over the _whoop-whoop_ of the helicopter's blades.

Officer Scott Grey took aim as best he could and spat his broken tooth square into the gang member's face. Not a bad shot, considering he was on his knees with a chunk of his hair gripped in the meaty hand of the asshole standing over him. The overpowering stench of half-chewed food and liquor battled with the blood already pouring down Scott's throat to force his gag reflex.

"Just shove 'im out," the Fist's partner said. "No 'chute. Watch 'im go splat on a sidewalk."

_Bastards,_ Scott thought. _I shouldn 't complain. I've been living on borrowed time for the past decade anyway. If I'm going to die, I might as well go out in a blaze of glory. At least it's me and not a bunch of kids caught up in tonight's wilding. _Scott glanced at the third Fist, who ignored the threats in favor of examining Scott's Glock. _No help from the peanut gallery._ Number three appeared much older than the other two Fists with a vicious scar across his cheek. He didn't have a blitz-head's full-body twitch.

"Open it," number two yelled.

Small relief as the nearest Fist let go of Scott's hair and yanked open the helicopter's door.

Wind whipped through the cabin, pulling in funnels of black smoke from burning garbage. Even through his swollen eyes, Scott could see flames snaking their way from the mouth of the Fairfax River to the flooded streets surrounding the civic center. The copter followed Star Haven's cross-city expressway. Outbound traffic from the Swamp — the Southern Point district — was at a standstill, with desperate residents trying to outrun the fires and the Left Fists. Emergency vehicles raced in the opposite direction, lights flashing, back-up from the other districts called to assist the already overwhelmed police and fire departments.

Up ahead, aircraft warning lights on the hospital roof pulsed red. Just a few more seconds and maybe he'd have a chance. Scott scooted back onto his feet, his sore knees grateful for the shift in weight.

"And there ain't any goody two-shoe Alts left in this city to rescue you neither." Number two slammed Scott's face with his elbow, rocking Scott back. Scott rolled with the punch, but kept his balance. "So don't be expecting one of them costumed fucktards to swoop out the skies and catch you at the last second. Captain Spectacular ain't your bitch today."

Scott tried to laugh through his split lips, but choked again on his own blood. Figures, even at the end of his life he couldn't escape his past. "Would you believe I hate Alts even more than I hate you?"

The Fist staggered, either at the idea that Scott could hate alternative humans more than his self-appointed murderers, or from the blitz in his system. Whatever the reason, the Fist lost his footing. Scott took advantage of the distraction and launched from his squat to slam his head into the underside of the Fist's chin. With Fist number one howling curses, Scott swung at Fist number two with all his pent-up fury.

As badly as they had beaten him, Scott still had a fighting chance against three Norms, normal humans like himself, though the third Fist still sat there looking bored. The pilot, paying more attention to the fight than his flying, lost altitude and Scott's stomach plunged with the copter, but he didn't stop fighting.

"Shake him out! Shake him out!" one of the Fists — Scott had lost track of which was which — hollered. The pilot tilted the copter at a crazy angle, squishing Scott between the Fists and the closed side of the cabin.

"The other way!" More shouting from the Fists.

Scott shoved against the wall of muscle, ducked the next blow, and tried an uppercut in the cramped space. The copter tilted again and this time he fell toward the open door. In a desperate move, he grabbed for anything and caught the edge of a denim vest. The larger man stumbled into Scott as they fell out the door. At the last second, the other Fist grabbed his partner's legs to keep him inside while Scott dangled below the door with a death grip on the larger man's vest.

"Shoot him!" the vest's owner yelled as he pounded on Scott's arm, twisted his wrist, but Scott held on. The third gang member with Scott's gun still didn't join the fight. The helicopter spun three-sixty. Scott slammed back and forth between the door frame.

"Cut it! Cut the vest!" the Fist who held him shouted into the wind.

The vest ripped, lowered an inch. Scott could see the hospital's warning lights reflected in the knife's blade as it sliced through the denim. He made one last grab before the vest tore free.

Hannah Quinn scrambled away from her hidden rooftop shelter seconds before the falling body obliterated it. Just her luck, the Left Fists had decided to drop their latest kill right onto her hideout. Now she was going to have to run for it before the police showed up.

She managed three steps towards the stairs before she looked back, her heart in her throat. _Damn it. Damn it. Damn it._ There was no reason to assume the victim had survived the fall, but she couldn't leave without checking. She just couldn't. What kind of person abandoned a mortally wounded person to die alone?

_Your mother would_. _You know she would. You should listen to your mother. Like you always do._

Hannah groaned at her own stupidity, but her desire to not emulate her mother turned her away from her escape route. She picked her way through the collapsed lean-to that she had constructed out of filched hospital sheets and plywood.

The man's body lay splayed in an unnatural angle. The sun hadn't quite set, so she could see the blood pooling around his head where his skull had cracked. The armor he wore looked like the kind police wore, dark blue with thick fabric, but the badge and nameplate had been sliced away. Had the equipment been enough to protect him? Maybe.

She examined the swollen, bloody face before she reached over to brush away black hair from his right temple. No ear lobe. It could only be Scott Grey. An Alt-killer. Hero to the Norms of Star Haven.

_I might be an idiot, and if I heal Grey I 'll be a traitor to the Alts, but I'm not a murderer. I can fix this. I know I can._

First things first. Search for a pulse. There. Faint, but it tapped against her fingers. Now for the hard part. Inside. _Yikes_! She'd entered through the carotid artery, which sent her surfing in the wrong direction, up instead of down. Her panic rose, but not enough to keep her from locating the jugular so she could surf down to the heart. _Damn, damn, damn._ The aorta had split and blood was spurting into Grey's chest cavity.

She sped faster around his heart, sealing the ragged edge of the hole until it stopped leaking. She waited three beats to make sure he wouldn't arrest in the middle of her operation. Three of his ribs had shattered and two had punctured his lungs. What a mess. She could make a circuit of the major arteries and veins without difficulty, but the millions of tiny capillaries seemed endless. She finished with his lungs and surfed down to the liver, fractured but still functional. Time distorted when she healed. A minute felt like an hour. An hour felt like a day. A day like a week.

Okay, liver fixed. Next she needed to look inside his head, so she hopped into the inferior vena cava and rode up to his heart before transferring back to the carotid artery. From there she jumped into the vertebral artery.

No good. His brain had swollen too fast, keeping her out of his skull. She shoved harder, but the swelling pushed her back. She'd never tried to travel outside the blood vessels before, but she didn't have a choice. If she ended the operation and let Grey die like he deserved, an autopsy would show his half-healed body. Whether she healed him or not, the police would know an Alt still roamed their city, but if they thought _she 'd _killed him, they'd redouble their efforts to find her.

She could feel his heartbeat slow and his blood pressure increase despite her repairs. She'd never lost a patient yet and Grey was not going to be her first. She pushed out of the artery. With no blood to guide her, she free floated. _Where the hell am I_? She grabbed onto the nearest bone and looked around. _Everything looks different in 3D. I 'll have to guess which way is up_.

Luck stayed with her and she squeezed inside Grey's skull. A few jokes about Grey's swelled head crossed her mind. Instead of laughing, she skimmed along the brain's surface, maximizing oxygen flow while reducing water intake until the swelling receded. His heart rate increased as she surfed, so she kept at it until his blood pressure returned to normal. She'd make one last dash through the brain to repair any internal damage. If only she could change his thought patterns so he wouldn't hate Alts like everyone else in Star Haven. Unfortunately, her power to heal couldn't fix a hateful personality.

She stopped when she spotted the black thread. The odd, atrophied-looking tangle protruded from the interthalamic adhesion. How strange. A quick search showed a corresponding strand across the midline. She brought the two ends together. The ends fused into one and a spark of energy kicked her backwards. Whatever the thread was, it worked again. She had no more time to waste. She surfed down to take care of his broken legs, followed by his arms, then his shoulders.

One last repair, though he didn't deserve it. She pushed herself back into the bloodstream and surfed up to Grey's right ear. She'd never done something like this before, not with such an old wound. Too much stimulation to the cells could result in too much skin. She wouldn't do Grey any favors if she gave him mismatched ears. That would only make him hate Alts more than he already did.

Done, and not a minute too soon. Her own body was failing fast. She floated over to Grey's neck and drifted back into herself.

Her stomach roiled and every muscle seized at the same time as the migraine hit. She flattened her palms against the craggy cement on either side of Grey's head. _RUN! RUN! RUN!_ her mind screamed, but her body refused to obey.

Grey's smoky eyes opened wide.

"Hannah Quinn?"

She managed a soft sigh before her body gave out and she fainted on top of him.

You can buy this book or learn more here.

I started writing **_Blood Surfer_ **back in 2012. It became my distraction while I shopped around two other manuscripts, something to keep my fingers busy on the keyboard. I had always loved superheroes (Hello, _Superfriends_!) and the Marvel Cinematic Universe had also started picking up steam at the box office. Despite my love for superheroes, though, I was always frustrated by comic books. The superheroes never found a true happy ending. No matter how well written, their story could never come to an end because the writers had to make sure folks would come back to buy the next issue. Even when the superhero fell in love, some dastardly villain would always put the _ke-bash_ on the romance.

I decided I had to write my own superhero romance and give the hero and heroine a happy ending.

Creating a superhero with a unique power, however, was easier said than done. Between movies, television, and comic books, trying to find a new superpower — never mind a moniker — felt impossible some days. In the case of my heroine, Hannah Quinn, I created her after I tried to kill the hero, Scott Grey. What happened was this: I had put Scott in jeopardy in the opening scene and then tried to figure out how to rescue him. My evil muse laughed at me and whispered — _why rescue him? Let him go splat_. So I did, and Scott lay there on my screen next to a blinking cursor mostly dead. From there, I built Hannah, the Blood Surfer. She can heal you from the inside out by surfing through your arteries and veins. She's quite talented and very valuable to those who want to possess her.

A Connecticut Yankee transplanted to Central Florida, Debra Jess writes science fiction, romance, urban fantasy, and superheroes. She began writing in 2006, combining her love of fairy tales and Star Wars to craft original stories of ordinary people in extraordinary adventures and fantastical creatures in out-of-this world escapades. Her first published novel, _Blood Surfer_ has won the Golden Pen Award and finaled in the Prism Award, Booksellers Best Award, and Maggie Award contests.

Debra is a graduate of Viable Paradise and is a member of Codex. She's also a member of the Romance Writers of America including RWA's Fantasy, Futuristic, & Paranormal chapter and the First Coast Romance Writers.

You can learn more about Debra here:

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# Hurricane Moon by Alexis Glynn Latner

# About Hurricane Moon

In the late 21st Century, with Earth wracked by climate change and political upheaval, an ambitious private foundation launches a starship to find a new world. Among those aboard _Aeon_ are Catharin Gault, an idealistic astronaut-physician, and scientist-passenger Joseph Devreze, a molecular biologist as brilliant as he is irresponsible. He has his own hidden motives for fleeing old Earth. Things begin to go amiss while everyone is still in the cold suspended animation called cryostasis, on the long journey through interstellar space. Programmed to search for a planet with a large moon—the only way to guarantee stable seasons, tides and an Earthlike ecosystem after terraforming—the starship finds a destination better than Catharin ever dared hope for: two Earth-sized planets locked in orbit around each other. Planet Green has abundant plant life and a puzzling lack of large animals. Planet Blue is an oceanic world covered with hurricanes. The green planet with its bright blue moon seems like a perfect stage for the drama of civilization to begin anew and turn out better this time. But the journey took far longer than anyone anticipated, and a millennium of cryostasis exacted a heavy price: insidious molecular damage. Now Catharin must rely on the untrustworthy maverick Joseph Devreze to help her save humankind on Planet Green. Their mutual attraction ratchets up even as their conflict escalates. Together Catharin and Joe must decide how they can face, and embrace, a future at odds with _Aeon_ 's planned mission and their own expectations. Meanwhile the mystery of the Hurricane Moon looms over them all. And so the season of crisis begins.

# Excerpt of Hurricane Moon

**CHAPTER ONE—JUDGMENT DAY**

Earth and the Moon looked like a double planet from here.

Catharin Gault hovered close to the glass in the middle of the long window that framed Earth in one end, the Moon in the other. The angular docks and cranes of the L5 shipyard slid into the scene. The blue world slipped toward the edge of the frame. The new starship was yawing, window and all. She had to make her way to the fourth briefing so far today on as many urgent issues, but for a few stolen moments she marveled at the double planet half-lit by the Sun. Earth's night side coruscated with the lights of vast cities. The Moon's pale face was marked by faint spider-lines of settlement. Very soon, human civilization would reach toward a better world than the Moon, across a vastly greater, purifying, distance. And she would have a role in that. Her breath caught in her throat at the familiar but never comfortable thought.

As Earth touched the edge of the frame, movement in her peripheral vision attracted her attention. She recognized the stocky form of Bix—Captain Hubert Bixby—floating her way. His grizzled hair stuck out in the zero gravity. "Cat, something's come up. The Chicago Assessment office wants you to interview a last-minute prospect and tell them if we want him."

"Why me? It's their job."

"Apparently, this guy's got max qualifications of a sort you're suited to judge, but he's got one or two max disqualifications too. The assessor on duty kicked the problem to his higher-ups, and somebody routed it to you. The nearest telcon is the Test and Checkout chief's. Let's go borrow it."

Taking the quickest cut, they cruised across the transport level bay. The bay bustled with activity. White-suited technicians dodged around them. Inspectors checked each shuttlecraft's retaining rigs and braces. Other personnel darted in with replacement parts or revised checklists.

Catharin and Bix wore blue coveralls with red armbands that meant primary crew. The garb cleared a path for them. Even when they encountered five workers steering a heavy piece of equipment that outmassed the team, they managed to shove it out of the way for Bix and Catharin. "I've never felt so important," Catharin murmured.

"Me either," Bix said. "And I've never left on a mission knowing we wouldn't come back."

Catharin took a deep breath to damp down the dread and excitement that surged up at those words.

Bix made for the far wall of the open bay. gerald donovan, test and checkout supervisor transport level was lettered on a door that stood ajar. "Gerry?" Bix called. "Can you spare your telcon for a minor emergency?"

"Surely, and I'll get out of the way," said the white-haired man in the office.

"Chief Gerry Donovan. One of the best in the space construction business. Gerry, this is Catharin, our doctor. Her call won't take long."

"Take your time, Doctor. I've a pair of shuttles to see about. I don't want them slipping as much as a centimeter when this ship decelerates at the end of the trip." A pen floated in the corner of his office. Chief Donovan snared the pen with the bare toes of his right foot. With his left foot, he caught the jamb of the door to swing himself out of the office. His arms were shiny and artificial. Bilateral upper-limb deficiency, Catharin realized. Probably congenital. Trauma amputees never got that good using their feet as substitute hands.

Bix told Catharin, "Join the Transport briefing soon as you can." He left with Donovan.

Catharin contacted the Chicago Assessment office. The back wall of the narrow office shimmered, then imaged a sparse Earthside room and a man slouching in a chair. The assessor was absent: this would be a private interview. The man wore expensive, stylish clothing. Black hair curled over his suit collar and over the edges of a long, strong-boned face. The build matched the face, tall and lean, spilling out of the functional little chair.

Catharin said, "Good day. Let me apologize in advance for the fact that this will have to be quick. I've not much time. I'm Dr. Gault, the starship's medical officer—"

He interrupted. "You're the gatekeeper. So what do you need to know?"

"To begin with, who are you?"

She expected a verbal resume. But he just said, "Joseph Devreze."

And that, she realized with a jolt, told her what she needed to know. "You recently won the Nobel Prize?"

"You're not too busy to keep up with the news, eh?"

Catharin bit back a retort. She located Chief Donovan's telcon touchpad below the surface of the desk and touched in a request for Devreze's medical file. The file appeared in a window on the wall.

Devreze shifted in the chair. "I watch the news too, including coverage of the starship. I gather that alien conditions on some other world might call for organisms to be invented, tailor-made for whatever the strange environment is." He had a clipped baritone voice with a clear timbre that Catharin would have liked in other circumstances. "I'm eminently qualified to do that."

She had parked herself behind Chief Donovan's desk with a leg hooked around the knee bar below the desk. Placing her elbows on the desk and folding her hands under her chin to make herself look grounded and secure, she said, "Yes, your qualifications do make you irresistible—almost."

" _Almost?_ " He sounded startled. "Who do you want? God?"

"That would depend on His motives. Your participation in this mission depends on yours," she said pleasantly.

"Why the hell do you care why I want to come?"

"Some people want to go to the stars to escape personal problems." Glancing at the medical file, Catharin found the usual childhood illnesses, a high level of cardiovascular fitness, no present disorder, terminal or otherwise. "Do you have enemies?"

Devreze shrugged. "Only every scientist I ever trounced in professional journals." He shifted in the chair.

Height six feet, four inches, said the medical file. Catharin preferred men at least as tall as she, and she was tall for a woman. Her sexual self, not aware of her fate in the near future, found this man interesting. She maintained a professional tone. "This trip will be final. Very final. The starship will not come back. Once the colony is founded, we hope to communicate with Earth, but it will take fifty years for such communication—one way."

"I know. I told you I keep up with the news."

"It's my job today to make sure that you realize this is not just a concept. It's your future. Do you have family?"

"Not really."

The file concurred: unmarried, no siblings or living parents. "I see. You have fewer reasons than many people to stay. But why do you want to go? You do have to answer that."

He crossed his arms. "You could say I've done it all here."

"Done it all?" she echoed, too floored for a more original remark.

"I've made it to the top in my field. Which happens to be one where people get rich and famous."

"I'm aware of that. Novel organisms are very profitable. And people pay outrageous sums for cosmetic genetic alterations, such as calico hair."

He looked directly at her for the first time in the interview. "Good thing you didn't. You look better as a Nordic blonde." Catharin restrained an inexplicable impulse to smile. Devreze rose and paced around the chair. He moved the way he talked, with abruptness, nervous energy. She scrolled to the top of the medical file to verify that he had blue eyes naturally, not courtesy of cosmetic alterations.

"The upshot is, what I've haven't had, or done, or at least had offered to me, isn't worth having," Devreze concluded.

Catharin saw what the lower levels of Assessment had meant by, in Bix's words, max disqualifications. Commitment to the starship mission—or close relatives so committed—constituted a believable, solid reason for people to leave Earth forever. Ennui was not a good reason. "Surely you could find another innovation to make."

"Not legally."

Catharin frowned. "Altering the human germ line is tightly regulated. Is that what you mean?"

"It's the last biggest challenge I haven't met," he said.

"In other words, you find your playground too confining," she said, her tone biting.

Devreze sat down. "I fear stagnation. When you're a scientist and peak early, sometimes you never do anything wonderful ever again." He steepled his hands and gazed into the space between them. He had long, sculpted fingers. His hands should have belonged to a surgeon. "Altering terrestrial animals for alien conditions—that's a challenge I've not had. And won't, unless I go with the starship. I could live for that."

"Could you die for that? The journey will last almost three centuries. Colonists and crew will be in stasis, which is a cold suspended animation. It is not a kind of sleep. There is a small but significant chance of dying in stasis. Never coming out alive."

"So, it's a risk. So's staying here and being put in the science hero's trophy case."

She had to be relentless at this point in the interview. But the job of making people realize what the mission entailed was easier for assessors who were not going themselves. She had to name the same truths that haunted her every night at three a.m. "Everyone you've ever known on Earth will be gone when you are revived. They won't be just too far away to talk to. Died, buried, and disintegrated back into the molecules they were made of." She paused, pressing her lips together.

He bowed his head, forefinger and thumb clamped to the bridge of his nose. "I'm not much of a social animal. But there are people who mean something to me. I understand you."

"And every home you've ever known . . . ." Her voice was rough; her own raw emotion showed. But all that mattered now was that he understand the enormity of what he wanted to do. "Everything will be gone."

He nodded.

"Even the grass and the trees. After several more centuries of ecological disaster on Earth, the planet will be different."

"That's not a reason to stay," he said.

"I know." After moments of silence, she went on, "As for the new world, astronomers have located a planet much like Earth, orbiting a star fifty light-years from here." She found it easier to talk about the new world than the old one. "The chances that it has a large moon are more than ninety percent—so far so good—the chance of at least a primitive ecosphere, more than fifty percent. That means seasons, blue-green algae, and a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere are probable. It does _not_ mean we can expect trees, birds, flowers—that kind of ecosystem has a very low probability." _But oh, how we hope for it!_ "The likelihood of intelligent life is less than a millionth of one percent."

Devreze shrugged. "Fine. Nobody to argue with us about our right to invade them."

"What I'm saying is, it won't be paradise. Only after generations of terraforming will it be pretty. You won't live long enough to see forests in the open air."

"I can live without trees." Then he gave her another direct blue gaze. "What about you? Are you tired of crowded cities and dying forests?"

"That's one reason for people to leave Earth. But it's not mine."

"Then . . . ?" His smile was surprisingly winsome. "I told you the truth, even though it's not what you wanted to hear."

Catharin said,"Civilization is diseased, and the diseases are very advanced. War, pollution, and oppression are the kind of things I mean. Overpopulation is another."

"I can't help that," he said offhandedly, "legally."

"Nor I, nor anyone else. We can't save the world. But if we start afresh on a new world—with the all of the lessons we've learned here, and science, but without the bloody history that keeps repeating itself—we can make a better civilization."

Joseph Devreze laughed suddenly and sharply, an outburst of either scorn or pain. "I hope you have better medical judgment than philosophical, Doctor!"

"What?"

"Civilization _is_ the disease."

Catharin felt her face heat with a flush. "I think not. I do not regard a patient with cancer as disease itself. And I don't see the blight of cities as anything more—or less—than disease. It may not be curable at this stage. But it's preventable in a different future."

He tilted his head, listening with an intensity that gave her a quick thrill of satisfaction. Then he countered, "If you'd ever seen the dark hearts of the big cities under the power towers, you'd know it's not the moral equivalent of heartworm. It's the heart of darkness."

She wanted to retort, _How do you know, you sheltered scientist?_ But she just held up her hand. "We'll continue this discussion later. Much later."

"What do you mean?"

"You're in. But you were almost too late, as today is the last day for colonists to report to the ship. Take the next shuttle up." She shut the visuals off.

He'd drawn out of her the ideals that she usually kept to herself. And he'd attacked them. Fight-or-flight adrenaline coursed through her system. She would have preferred to fight. It was an act of will for her to assign Devreze to the appropriate place in the colonial force. Tier One.

According to the plans in the Mission Book, she would be revived as soon as the ship found its star. Only later, after the colony was founded, would the people in Tier One be revived. So Devreze would come out of cryostasis ten years later than she.

Catharin tried to remember when she had ever found a total stranger—much less an objectionably arrogant one—so attractive. She drew a blank. Maybe never. She shook her head, baffled by the coils of coincidence and necessity.

Catharin's days had been getting longer and harder, and this was the worst yet. From 0600 until 1700 hours, Catharin worked in the hospital in the starship as most of the starship's crew were initiated into stasis. All the while, the distinctive smell of a brand-new spacecraft—pristine plastic and fresh paint and sealants breezed by the circulating air system—reminded Catharin that this was no ordinary hospital, or day.

And then the hospital had been shut down, until it would be needed again to populate a colony on the other side of the stars. Catharin said good-bye to the team of medical personnel who had put all of the colonists and most of the crew into stasis. Most of the medics left on shuttles that would take them home to Earth.

As a primary crew member, Catharin possessed the keys to the kingdom of the starship. In the lowest level of the deserted hospital, she let herself into the maintenance passageways. In a longitudinal passageway, she started to run.

The passageway seemed to curve upward, reflecting the curvature of the spherical starship. The ship was spinning now, which created a kind of artificial gravity, and Catharin quickly tired, but she kept running—toward something scheduled for twenty minutes from now, and into the exhaustion that would let her tolerate that event.

Smooth and well lighted, the passageway had system control panels at fifty-meter intervals, and the new-spaceship smell. This ship's name was _Aeon_. A Greek word; a reminder of the bright beginning of civilization when frail sailing craft sailed on the Aegean Sea, in the light of an impossibly distant moon. _Aeon_ was made of that very moon—most of the ship's structural materials had been mined on the Moon and ferried to the shipyard here at L5. This was the greatest machine ever built. But not the most sophisticated. In the larger scheme of things, _Aeon_ was nothing more than a sturdy packing crate, meant to carry the powers of terraforming—genetic and environmental engineering, nanoscale biological and material science, the seeds of ecosystem, and human beings—to the stars. It would be a very rough and perilous trip. _Just get us there safe,_ Catharin repeated, like a mantra as she ran. _Just get us there safe._

The spin-gravity lessened as she ran out of the ship's equatorial region, toward the north pole. Panting, Catharin checked her watch. She would not make it to the crew level in time. She was still breathing hard as she emerged from the chase network near a transport level window. Now that the ship had spin-gravity, she could not simply float close to the middle of the window to look out at a wide swath of space. There was down now. The transport level window reminded her of church architecture. A window that made you see out and up.

Visible upward was the enormous bulk of the star shield at the north end of the ship and a rectangle of space. The regular spin of the starship took the window past the gleaming, angular shipyards at L5. Catharin sat down. She bowed her head, not wanting to cross gazes with the personnel congregating near the window.

A cool, stiff hand touched her shoulder. "May I join you?" Chief Donovan asked. He settled down, cross-legged and still barefoot. "I hope your call the other day went well."

"Yes, thank you."

"Look now, there's the Moon in our window." Luna arched across the view, its apparent speed reflecting the brisk rotation of the starship. "You expect to see one like it, I understand, when the journey's done."

Catharin nodded. "It's vital that the new world have a moon."

"Our own surely has an ugly face." He spoke with a quiet intensity that was more than conversational. "Sometimes, Doctor, Nature throws problems at you, out of the blue—or out of the black, as the case may be, like the meteors that smashed into the Moon and the Earth, early on." He waved toward the window with one artificial hand.

"Short-term exposure to environmental toxins, in utero?" she asked.

"Yes. It affected only my arms, not my legs or my brain. But I've found that doctors aren't as uneasy about me as most other folks. A bit more likely to listen to what I have to say, rather than just stare at what they see."

With white hair that gleamed in the starlight, he was too old to go to the stars. And so he was sending his thoughts instead. Catharin asked, "Is there something I should hear from you?"

He made a small satisfied movement. "My dear mother always told me, 'You must embrace what God gives you, even if you're given no arms.'"

Catharin tilted her chin up. Even as a child, she'd always reacted with that gesture, silently objecting, at what sounded unreasonable. Today, adult, she said, "I don't believe that."

"Well and good, but in my own experience, Doctor, the Universe, or God, or Nature, name it what you will, does throw problems at you, and she doesn't seem to care who you are, or how many she strikes down. But what happens after that, depends."

"On what?"

He flexed his hairless hands, deliberately. "Attitude, Doctor. Looking for the blessing behind the curse. Feet as dexterous as hands are an asset in space, and I've had a long and fine career up here. Only, you must remember that you just can't say to the meteor, begone. Or wish arms where there are none. I've decided that was what my mother really meant for me to hear. Some things will never be the way they might have been, so you must accept them the way they are. Plans are good, training better yet, but not if they blind you and bind you in the face of the unexpected."

Numb, Catharin nodded.

A pleasant, androgynous voice resonated through the level. _"Attention, please. The shutters will close in ten minutes."_

Most of the murmuring crowd here were Transport workers, wearing sturdy coveralls. Self-conscious in her thin blue shorts and shirt piped in red, Catharin felt grateful for Chief Donovan's company. The starship would have to leave the Donovans behind. And take an arrogant Devreze. It was grossly unfair. But stasis would have deleterious effects on the human body, worse with increased age of the subject. A strict age cutoff had been imposed on colonists and crew alike.

_"The shutters are closing."_

Catharin shivered. She had been dreading this moment for days. Of all final preparations, this one bespoke finality most clearly for her.

Massive shutters crept from each side toward the middle to mesh together, to shield the window from the hazards of the interstellar medium. There was a subaudible sound, or vibration, that propagated through the superstructure. Catharin felt light-headed, caught herself hyperventilating. _No,_ she thought, I _can't afford claustrophobia. Not now. It's not being trapped._ She stared at the black window that now had only a jagged thread of stars running down the middle of it. _It's protection against what the universe might throw at us._ She fought for calm and for some kind of proactive stance, not just sitting here being afraid. She heard herself say, "Thank you for your advice. I'm going to take it right away."

"I beg your pardon? I thought it was the sort of advice to keep on hand for a rainy day."

"We've been doing simulations of different planetfall scenarios. But we haven't had one where the universe throws such a curve at us that we can't save the mission in its nominal form. And we need that kind of attitude check. The Sim Supervisor is a friend of mine. I'm going to ask him to arrange something." Catharin added, "Talk about rainy days—the Sim Supe can make it pour."

You can buy this book or find out more here.

Recently I was asked if I myself have the scientific background to write this book. Short answer: heavens no! Long answer—from the Acknowledgments: "This book could not have been created without the expert and lively advice of space physicists, biomedical researchers, engineers, social scientists, and astronaut candidates. My most profound thanks go to Paula Burch, Kristin Farry, Marc Hairston, Valerie Olson, Sedge Simons, and Eileen Stansbery, all of whom are PhD graduates of Rice University in Houston, Texas." It's absolutely wonderful when scientists and engineers are also SF readers and know how to play with ideas. From people like that, you get feedback something like this: _That idea won't work exactly like you want it, but if you posit something along these lines instead, and then do a little hand-waving about a possible gap in the known laws of physics, what you'll end up with is similar to what you want and no space physicists will send hate mail. And hey, you could throw in something else really interesting right here—have you heard about [exotic new astrophysical angle or object that sounds really cool]?_ My imagination takes the new astrophysical discovery and runs with it and the whole process makes the story better. I love having expert technical consultants!

Alexis Glynn Latner writes speculative fiction as well as nonfiction. She also does editing, teaches and mentors creative writing, and works at Rice University's Fondren Library in Houston, Texas. For fun and real-life adventure she is a sailplane pilot. Her science fiction and fantasy stories have appeared in _Analog Science Fiction and Fact_ , _Amazing Stories,_ and various anthologies. Like many other writers, she has done an interesting variety of paid and volunteer work, including library information technology support specialist, glider maintenance coordinator for the Soaring Club of Houston, and South/Central Regional Director of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. She has an MA in Systematic Theology from the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California.

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# Black Planet: Dragon's Blood by Belinda McBride

# About Black Planet: Dragon's Blood

San Francisco hasn't been the same since the Great Shake of '08. On the ruins of Fisherman's Wharf, a ramshackle city rises like a mushroom, a strange dichotomy of safety and corruption. In this forbidden city, a monster prowls the corridors and alleys, seeking the nanite-enhanced flesh and blood of underground cage fighters.

Detective Annie Tanaka once survived an encounter with the monster. The attack left her clinging to life and paralyzed with fear. Now the monster has returned, and he's hunting in her territory. She'll need every weapon in her arsenal to face this enemy and prevail.

Unfortunately for Annie, her mentor, a legendary fight master, hasn't been seen in decades, and her unwilling partner is next on the monster's menu. Annie soon realizes her real enemy's not the monster, but her own fear. And against that fear, Annie must stand alone.

# Excerpt of Black Planet: Dragon's Blood

Chapter One

2183 CE, San Francisco

"Mornin', Annie!"

"Mornin'!" Annie Tanaka tossed a grin over her shoulder and planted a foot, running and vaulting over the narrow, artificial canyon. Narrow, yes, but it was a thirteen-story drop to the alleys, and whether she hit water or rebar, her death would come fast and hard.

"Good Morning, Annie!"

"Hey, Mrs. Y! How's things?" She didn't slow as she replied. The boat to Oakland might just possibly be on schedule today, and she didn't want to miss it. There were other boats, but she tried to stick to routine. Besides, Cappie Reynolds was fair. He rarely overcharged except for when it was storming. And when it was storming, Annie would much rather stay at home in bed, listening to the sound of water dripping from her leaky roof. Since she couldn't do that, she rose hours earlier to take a hand-powered flatcar through the eerie underwater tunnels that bisected the Bay. That mode of transportation carried its own stamp of horror, but she could fight bandits and mild claustrophobia. She couldn't fight nature and the ocean.

Annie's light boots skimmed over a long ramp that dropped a level and came out on the roof of Parsottie's Eatery. From there, a series of gradually descending rooftops lead out of Wharf, over the Wall and would set her on the streets of San Francisco proper. She'd never have to set foot on the dangerous lower corridors with this route. Even in the daytime, the ground level harbored gangs and drug addicts, cheap whores and the occasional thrill-seeker from outside.

Every time she approached a ramp, whether it was a braced structure or a flimsy board, she scanned quickly and carefully. Caution might slow her down, but it wasn't unusual for the local reigning gangs to sabotage passages. Thick bundles of electric cables snaked over surfaces and dangled in the air. She'd taken a few hard falls in her time, only extreme luck combined with phenomenal agility saved her from taking the drop forever.

With her heart beating from fear and excitement, Annie paused in the shelter of two buildings. The City didn't patrol Wharf territory these days -- it was harder to get in than out -- but old habits died hard. From her elevated vantage point, she checked for gangsters, guards, and anyone that might have something to gain by keeping a Wharf rat in... or out.

The coast was clear and she was over solid ground now, so she took a dead cable hand over hand, down to the level of the Wall. From there she simply jogged to the docks, taking a skinny stair passage that led straight to her destination: the _Morning Glory_.

Grungy but seaworthy, the old boat had been a luxury yacht in a previous life. Now the old lady was just a dirty, faded whore, not unlike those Annie had passed in the lower alleys of Wharf. But if the _Glory_ went down on you, she went down forever, carrying you into the cold, murky water of San Francisco Bay.

Annie gave herself a moment to tamp down panic, staring at the oily water below her feet. Overhead a lone gull circled hopefully. About eight other passengers were aboard. If she didn't hurry, she'd get stuck out on deck, propped on a dirty tire or a coil of greasy rope. Annie murmured a quick prayer to Bok Eye, the Chinese God of Water, and then she stepped aboard.

Commuting this way was a delicate balance. She didn't want to be late, ending up stuck on deck, or possibly missing the boat altogether. But she also didn't want to be early. The old boat smelled fishy. The roll of the waves brought nausea to her throat. The less time onboard, the better.

She'd timed it perfectly.

"Hey, Annie. You going to ride up front with me today?"

"Hey, Cappie." She extended her fare, daring him to up his charge. The Bay commute was a seller's market, and if he was in a crappy mood, Cappie wouldn't hesitate to boot a rider in favor of one with deeper pockets. "This is for round trip," she said firmly.

He stared at her offering, and then nodded curtly. "Head up front and take a seat. You can have my chair."

She ducked her head, hiding a smile. That usually meant Cappie and his on-again off-again lover had made up. Their fights were notorious, the stuff of local legend. Their make-up sex? Marlin had probably given Cap the ass-pounding of his life. Marlin had reputedly walked in on Cappie with a floor-whore last week. Thing about living in Wharf, there were no real secrets.

Nearly twenty thousand people were crammed into a warren of high- and low-rise buildings that had mushroomed up on the site of Old Fisherman's Wharf. They lived shoulder to shoulder in one of the highest population density neighborhoods in the world.

The wall around Wharf was a mystery. Some said it was to keep Wharf rats in, others said it was to keep the city dwellers out. Only old Guo Lee knew the truth of the matter, and he'd never shared that story with anyone.

Annie settled into the worn leather of the captain's chair and relaxed a bit. From the bridge she could see sun and sky and water while avoiding the claustrophobic conditions below deck. She could also see whatever might be coming. Annie Tanaka didn't like being taken by surprise.

The motors strained and groaned as they started, and then Cappie stood at her side, giving her a rare, gap-toothed grin. His teeth were surprisingly white in his weathered face. Yeah, he'd gotten some. And then some.

She wished she was getting some too.

The actual cross-Bay trip didn't take long. Nevertheless, there were nail-marks in her palms, bite marks on her lips. Over the past five years, Annie had trained herself to minimize the self-inflicted damage. For a time, she'd sported an ever-present bloody spot on her full lower lip and her fingernails had been chewed down to the quick.

Once they tied off, she darted up the docks to solid ground, taking a moment to collect her nerves. She leaned against a fence, one hand over her pounding heart, the other clasped in a fist. It wasn't the boat that frightened her, it was the water. Odd, since she lived in a high-rise that towered erratically over the bay. Annie knew exactly why she was afraid and didn't bother to question it, or even attempt to talk herself out of the phobia. No amount of looking back could change things. No therapist would ever desensitize her to the dirty water of the bay.

She could only move forward if she turned her head in that direction. One of old Guo's favorite sayings.

A short walk along Oakland's waterfront took her to the sleek electric train system that wound through the East Bay. Ten minutes in relative comfort and she stepped out into hordes of traffic, both human and mechanical. The train whizzed away, climbing up to become an elevated monorail on its way to Berkeley.

The station house was new and high-tech, a thoroughly modern testament to the rebuilding of the city by the bay. San Francisco had staggered under the burden of rebuilds and recovery after the Big Shake of '08. The Marina District had slid into the liquefied ground it had been built on. Fires had gutted Fisherman's Wharf, leaving the space clear for the squatters' city that eventually evolved into the comfortable anarchy of Wharf Town. The city itself had regained some of its former glory, yet continued to struggle with modernization and safety.

The East Bay had brushed itself off and taken the opportunity to create a new, ultra-modern infrastructure. It was clean, safe, and always looking toward the future.

Annie preferred San Francisco.

"Hey, Detective Tanaka!"

She grinned and waved at the station receptionist, stepping into a bullet-shaped lift. Level three put her at the locker rooms where Annie quickly changed from jeans to a chic trouser suit. Today were case briefings and a press conference about the status of a high profile drug case that she'd worked. While she wouldn't speak directly to the press, Annie needed to look professional.

She armed up, her pistol in a shoulder harness, cuffs on her belt. Annie ran a comb through her sleek black hair and carefully applied matte red lipstick. She dug pins from her kit and did a simple up-do, and smudged her lids with a bit of liner.

She slipped into sleek red pumps and checked herself in the mirror. The black suit looked good. Professional yet attractive. At work she could sometimes afford to look like a girl. Within reasonable limits.

She locked her space and headed out, ignoring the half dozen other cops in various states of undress. Terrence was in the shower, singing as he scrubbed the grime of his undercover identity from his skin. He was on his way home to his wife and baby. Amy Lyn was drying her hair; she'd been on late night as well. The large room was split into a men's half and a women's half, but nobody seemed to care if that invisible line was crossed. Annie was one of the few who opted for the private showers and changing cubes.

She was out the door and heading for the break room to pick up her morning coffee when an intern caught her. "Detective Tanaka?"

"Hey, Lou, what's up?"

"Lieutenant Greene wants you to skip the briefing today. You're to meet him in I-six."

"Okay, thanks."

Annie frowned and watched as he jogged away, no doubt looking for his next target. She changed direction and headed back down to the interrogation levels on the ground floor. Her belly jumped uneasily. She thought about that coffee and decided to skip it. Meeting Greene in the I rooms could only mean one thing.

A new case, deep undercover.

"Oh Jesus." Annie looked at the photos and then followed those with the lab reports. She closed the file and rested her head in her hands. "Greene, you can't do this to me."

"We need a man on the inside, Tanaka. You're it."

"God, Greene, if you mean what I think you mean..."

"He's back."

Greene stared at her steadily, his gray eyes looking sad and worn. Five years ago this case had nearly cost Annie her life and her career. It had taken her partner's wife, and then it took her partner as well. She should _want_ a second shot at this monster, damn it. But she didn't.

"How many?"

"That we know of? Two here in Oakland. Four confirmed in San Fran. LA won't commit to a number, but they're hinting he's been there. I've got feelers out in Seattle and Portland. He's covered a lot of ground."

"It's not a he, Greene."

"Whatever. But he's... it's here now. We've got a taskforce started but that's primarily for groundwork and diversion. We don't want him looking your direction till you're right on top of him."

She met his eyes and slowly he pushed another file across the tabletop. It was "The Plan." Her undercover identity. She sat quietly, reading and memorizing the operation. Green tried to hide a smile when she got to the layout. "Greene, I can't -- Wharf is my home! I can't go undercover in my own neighborhood."

"It's his next logical target, Tanaka. And nobody there knows you're a cop, right? So they won't have to know. And Wharf has no official police force. No protocol and no red tape. We can operate there without permission from San Francisco."

She could act independently of either force if need be. Of course, she wouldn't have the support of a standing police force. It would take far too long for Oakland to arrive if she had an emergency. She'd be on her own.

"Okay, so the next problem: I'm not an insider in the gambling or fighting world. How exactly am I going to get into position?"

"Covered."

Even as he answered, she heard a commotion out in the hallway. Bodies thudded against walls, shouts and curses echoed into the room. She glanced at Greene with a raised brow.

"My inside connection?" She asked.

"Their timing couldn't be better, could it?"

She shook her head and turned back to the file. When she finished, she met Greene's cool eyes. The past couple years had been hard on the man. His wife had died slowly of Dragon's Blood, the mysterious Hemo disease. No amount of transfusions had kept her going. Add to that the burden of heading up the undercover forces... Well, it was hard on a man. It showed in his prematurely graying hair, in those sad, soulful eyes. He was only thirty-five.

"So you're in?"

"Like I have a choice?" Not if she wanted to keep her job. And she did love her job, most of the time.

"So you know who's in that other room?"

Anne nodded wordlessly. She swallowed, her throat dry and parched. She wanted to get up, cross the harbor and go back home. But she didn't have that choice.

"You ready?"

She stood, rising to her full height, squaring her shoulders, masking the uncertainty, the guilt and the fear. All the freshly plowed shit that had re-surfaced after reading the case notes shook her to the core. She gathered the files from the table and handed them to Greene. Standing aside, she followed her boss out the door. This was undoubtedly as painful for him as it was for her.

Aiden Chen glared. Of course, they'd pulled some damned sack over his head, so the glare was pointless. He jerked his arms, testing the shackles that anchored his hands to something heavy and solid... a table? His naked feet were secured to the floor, the slender cuffs were smooth, surprisingly comfortable and made of some metal completely impervious to his strength. He gave up the struggle and focused on his surroundings.

An interrogation room, judging by the feel of things. The hard chair was cold against his nearly bare ass. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what warrants might be out on his name, and came up with nothing. He mostly operated inside Wharf, which was off-limits to the SFPD. Something else was up. Instinct cooled his temper; he went still and quiet. Within moments, the door opened.

"Okay, Chen, I'm taking off the hood. You be a good boy and wait patiently." The accent was flat and white. East Bay. Automatically, Aiden's bare foot jerked against the shackle. He stilled himself as the fabric cleared his face, allowing him to breathe fresh air.

He blinked against the harsh, artificial light. It was indeed an interrogation room, one he'd never seen. Too clean for The City. Too new. His glare moved from the uniform leaving the room to the dark mirrored window, which caught his angry reflection. His heightened vision told him the observation chamber was empty. Three cups of hot tea waited on the table, one in front of where he sat. One black. Two green. They were still steaming.

How civilized.

He shifted uncomfortably on the hard chair. They'd pulled him from bed, and he needed to pee. He could only be grateful they'd allowed him underwear. Aiden prayed the cage groupie who'd been in his bed had locked up on her way out. He didn't have much of value, but still, he didn't need any roof rats digging through his shit. He rarely took anyone home; he must've had too much to drink again.

The door opened and Aiden glanced up, feeling his face go stiff and still. Of course he wasn't in San Francisco. He was across the Bay, in Oakland. Milo Green entered the room. He sat carefully, placed a stack of files on the table then pushed one of the cups of green tea toward Aiden. They'd knocked him out with a tranq. He didn't even remember the ride over.

He closed his eyes, heard several sets of footsteps echoing down the hall. But one set stood out like a signal. Steady and light, and almost silent.

He didn't need to see to know who it was.

Aiden opened his eyes when she walked into the room; she was cool, elegant and dangerous. That serene, beautiful face was the face of evil as he knew it. Maybe evil was a little dramatic. Try pain, grief, and betrayal.

Yeah, that fit.

"Hello, boss. Hey, Annie." Sarcasm laced his words. "Long time no see."

She paused just inside the door, looking at him. She didn't look any older than she had that day she'd walked out the door of his home, Lisa at her side. The black suit was the perfect foil for her dark hair and porcelain skin. The touches of red at her ears and throat reminded him of blood. She was missing something, though. He'd rarely seen her without a smile, and back then, she'd always glowed, as though she'd been lit from within. That was all gone.

He saw a flicker of something in her dark brown eyes... guilt? No, anger. But not at him. She was looking at his hands. She then looked at Greene, almost reproachfully.

She stepped out into the hall and spoke softly, returning with the keys to his shackles. "I've sent for clothing for you." She sorted a key from the others and moved to his side. She looked straight into his eyes, and the contact sent adrenaline through his system. She deftly released his hands.

"If you mess with me, Chen, I'll kick your ass." The warning was delivered with soft intent. She knelt to unlock the shackles, her head near his body.

"You can try," he breathed into her ear.

She went still. The nanites that strengthened his body also enhanced his senses. He could smell her unperfumed skin. He knew she still lived in Wharf, but Annie carried barely a trace of the trademark waterfront scent. Instead, he smelled the sandalwood incense she burned in her little rooftop shrine to General Kwan. He smelled the cherry blossom soap Mary Jackson made and sold in her general goods store. He smelled the mélange of her emotions, guilt, want and anger.

The fragrance of arousal tickled his nose as she turned her head slightly, looking straight at the swelling bulge of his cock just inches from her face. Inwardly, he cursed at his own reaction to her breath brushing his thigh, and at the slight pink that flushed her cheeks as her gaze slid up to meet his.

Something primal... fear? She'd never carried fear, not in his memory. This new scent surrounded her like a comfortable, familiar essence she wore every day. It permeated her clothing and looked at him from her eyes. Aiden's erection quickly faded. He looked away so she wouldn't see the abrupt concern on his face. He hated knowing it was still there. Faced with seeing her after all these years, the carefully nurtured hate melted away into worry. He could kick himself. It seemed that loyalty was ingrained between partners, even with all that had passed.

Annie moved from his side and seated herself in front of a pair of plain folders that her boss had arranged on the table. She sat straight and upright, directly across from Greene. The pair of them were just that... a pair. Identical weary expressions weighed them down. Annie took a sip of her green tea and set the cup carefully back into its moisture ring. If this is what the job had done to them, he was glad to be out. Aiden folded his arms across his bare chest and waited. He looked at the tea in front of him and started to reach for the glass.

"He's back."

Aiden's hand dropped to the table.

Greene's words were unadorned, and it took Aiden a few panicked moments to sort them out. He knew what was coming so he had time to prepare for the rush of emotion as it flooded his brain. He braced and sat very still as his body reacted. He separated himself from the pain and grief that never really left him for long. When he could speak, Aiden's voice was steady, matter-of-fact.

"He left no evidence beyond his kill. There weren't enough victims to establish an MO. You're full of shit, Greene."

Aiden rubbed the bare skin of his arms, feeling goose flesh rising. Going home across the water would be a barrel of monkeys without shoes or clothes. He didn't care. Aiden stood, knowing they'd be unable to stop him.

"Blood evidence." Annie's voice stopped him. It was soft and velvety, yet compelling. She spoke fluent Japanese, Italian, and her Mandarin was passable. She spoke with the slight accent of Wharf. "One of the recent victims fought and drew blood—enough for a detailed analysis. Whatever this thing is, it assimilates the DNA of its victims. Your wife's DNA was one of the layers the lab isolated."

His legs went numb, and he slid back into the chair, staring down at the grey metal surface.

Her former partner sat so very, very still. Annie watched as all emotion shut down on his normally expressive face. His arms were crossed protectively across his chest, covering the elaborate tattoo work there. She'd never seen him shirtless before, but knew the medallion on the center of his chest matched Lisa's. They'd gone to an old Japanese _Yakuza_ artist and he'd given them an elegant Chinese dragon and phoenix design. He wore the dragon, she'd worn the phoenix. He knew that Annie's Japanese upbringing made the tattoo abhorrent to her; she was surprised that he was hiding it.

No scars marred his body, no recent tattoo work. Lisa had told her that he'd planned on sleeves but she'd died, and not long after, he'd had himself injected with black-market nanites. He'd never scar again. His skin would forever reject tattoos. He'd made himself somewhat more than human.

Or somewhat less than human, depending on how you looked at it.

He was still handsome though his features were now blurred with anger and grief and disillusionment. His hair was longer than she was accustomed to seeing. Fat, black curls and tawny skin weren't the only evidence of his African heritage. His face was Chinese but stronger. He had a full mouth and a tough looking jaw. Strong cheekbones rose with the angles of his golden eyes. His eyes were not still. He glared at the table in cold fury.

She tried not to look at his body. He'd been her partner, the husband of her friend. Carrying nanites kept one healthy, and much stronger than average, but you still had to work to stay in shape. His sculpted body gave proof of hours working out.

But then, his life depended on being stronger and faster than everyone else. More so now than when he'd been on the force.

Annie told herself that the heat rising in her belly was anger. They'd dragged him out of bed, all the way across the Bay without clothing or shoes. They'd treated him like a common felon, not a former detective. The warmth spreading up her cheeks had nothing to do with his smooth dark skin or the wicked tattoos undulating over the muscles of his arms.

Greene continued to speak, ignoring Aiden's silence. "We need to put Tanaka undercover. We think he's hunting on the fight circuits. The recent victims were all from your world."

Aiden's gaze snapped to the Lieutenant. "Her. You want _her_ undercover, and me to help?" His eyes were cold as he looked at her contemptuously. "Fine. Her funeral."

Annie's jaw flexed and then relaxed. She had nothing to prove to this man. She called up her long practiced serenity and let Aiden have his say.

"Bit of news, Greene. Most every fighter out there is enhanced. She ain't."

"I don't need to be," Annie said.

He snorted. "Even the girl fighters are seeded. She'll bite it on her first match, Greene."

"That isn't your problem. You just need to get her in. You can cut her loose once she's lined up for a few fights."

"I don't need to win, Aiden. I just need to fight and survive. And it's not going to come after me. It's sniffing out Nanos."

He finally looked at her. "Lisa wasn't enhanced."

"Yes, Aiden, she was. Not like you but she'd taken a small injection after a gunshot wound when she was a rookie."

That treatment had done what the nanites were designed to do. They'd located the wound, fixed it, and then filtered out of the blood through the kidneys. But they'd left a signature in Lisa Chen's blood, and made her a target.

"Look, no offense here, Tanaka. Greene, I know Annie's good, but why not send in one of the guys?"

"We chose Annie because she's the right person for the job. She's a member of Wharf community and is an experienced martial artist."

Aiden snorted in humor. "Doing Tai Chi on the roof ain't exactly fighting, Greene."

She let it pass. And then she wondered how he knew about the time she spent up top.

"Fine." Aiden said abruptly.

She looked over at him in surprise. Aiden sat, teacup in hand, idly swirling it around. She hadn't expected him to agree so easily. "I'll introduce you around, get you some gigs, but beyond that, I'm out of it. And I get your share of any winnings. If you survive the first fight."

He reached out for the file. Greene nodded slightly, so she pushed it across the table. They were violating protocol, but Chen was ex-force and knew how to handle himself.

She watched as he rapidly scanned the documents, lingering when he read the data relating to Lisa's death. Her statement was there, and she knew he'd never read it before. She started picking at the rough edge of a fingernail, then fisted her hands. After the attack he'd buried his wife and walked away, leaving Annie to pick up the pieces of the nightmare.

They lived within throwing distance of one another, yet this was the first time she'd seen Aiden Chen since the day of Lisa's death. Between his anger and her survivor's guilt, their friendship had been irredeemably shattered. She'd heard about his meteoric rise in the underground fight world through neighborhood gossip. She doubted that he'd followed her career at all.

When he slowly closed the file and looked across the table at her, his face was stiff with fury. He knew now, everything that had happened. _Everything_. Her account had been couched in the formal language of the detective, and had left out the full details of her injuries, but he now knew the scope of her failure and her shame.

She looked down at her hand and picked at a sliver of fingernail, peeling it away completely.

Find out more about how to buy this book here.

The idea for Dragon's Blood actually came when I was donating blood. I sat in the chair with the tube running out of my arm, and since the whole routine scares me, I was looking at giant portraits of patients whose lives had been saved by donations like mine. The portrait closest to me was a little girl, I'd worked with her mother at Public Health and knew how close that little girl had come to death.

So I sat there looking at this child and started thinking about my fledgling Black Planet series, and came up with the idea of an illness of the blood that ravages and kills, and in some cases, warps a person into something else completely. The disease is nicknamed "Dragon's Blood."

The Black Planet series combines dystopian themes with space opera and Asian martial arts and deep family ties. This series features some of my favorite heroines, including the star of this book, Annie Tanaka.

Belinda is an award-winning, top selling author of erotic romance, speculative fiction and LGBTQ romance. She lives in far Northern California with her family and a pack of Siberian Huskies.

A graduate of CSU Chico, she managed to attend the notorious party school without once getting drunk, arrested or appearing in a "Girls Gone Wild" video. Her main focus of study was classical and archival history, cultural anthropology and theatre arts.

She's won the EPIC Award in Paranormal and Science Fiction Romance, was nominated for an RT Reviewer's Choice Award in Erotic Romance, (with Sierra Cartwright and Cherise Sinclair) and won a Passionate Plume in Science Fiction Romance.

When she's not writing, Belinda is usually outside playing with her dogs or in the kitchen, playing mad chemist with cold process soap. You can find her on her website.

# Rebellion by Sabine Priestley

# About Rebellion

Ria Montori is no stranger to kicking ass. Though petite in size, she packs a punch as a former Sandarian military officer who currently serves the Cavacent clan on a strange planet called Earth. She has no interest in seeking her one psi-mate who could bring her unparalleled pleasure through a sensual, otherworldly bond. She has no time for a lover of any kind. So why is she drawn to the beguiling Curzan native who just killed a government official?

Ty Sordina hates Ria's kind. The Sandarians murdered his parents while he watched and enslaved his people. Driven by revenge, he vows that nothing and no one will stand in his way. Especially not the feisty redhead who challenges his every instinct and calls to his psi like no other.

But war is coming. And the two beings entangled in a battle of wills hold the fate of an entire planet in their hands. Should they succumb to temptation, the power of their mated bond could defeat and destroy the enemy. But only if they surrender...

# Excerpt of Rebellion

Ria Montori leaned against the transparent panel with arms crossed, enjoying the view of Earth below. It was good to get off-planet, if only to the Cavacents' cloaked base station.

Times like these gave her a chance to reflect. She was proud of what she'd accomplished. Because of her small size, she'd had to work twice as hard as anyone else to be taken seriously. Graduating second in her class in the military academy had helped. After her obligatory three years of service, she'd signed on with the Cavacent clan and now had a coveted spot as an Earth Protector, EP for short. But things were changing in the Sandarian Empire, and her world along with it.

"You okay?" Dani asked. "You look sad." Dani was the newest member of their team.

The tall blonde was a stark contrast to her own petite build and fiery red hair. Where Ria's world had shrunk with the fall of the empire, Dani's had exploded—other worlds, aliens, empires, all laid bare to her. She blew out a breath. "I'm okay. Glad we pulled this duty today. I don't know if this will make sense to you, but I'm feeling a little claustrophobic on Earth."

"How can you be claustrophobic on a planet?" Dani asked.

She tried to find the words to explain. "Because Sandaria is home to the Portal Masters, it's probably the most connected planet in the galaxy. You could request travel to at least a dozen planets. Starships constantly coming and going." Ria turned to face Dani and shoved her hands in her front pockets. "I spent three years cruising the stars in the military before I hired on with the Cavacents. And now, with the fall of the emperor, that little ball out there is all there is. Does that make sense?"

Dani squeezed her arm. "It does. I mean, it's kind of weird for someone like me who never knew anything but Earth, but it makes sense. I still get goose bumps being able to see Earth from out here. Don't you?"

Ria gave her a smirk. Her friend radiated a disgusting amount of happy. She'd recently bonded with Ria's boss, Ian Cavacent, and there were times Ria wanted to smack the happy out of her. She was glad for them, of course, but one could only take so much sunshine.

It was a calm day below, with few clouds to hide the surface.

"I still can't believe it," Ria said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "A few months ago Earth was just a job. Now it's home."

Dani huffed. "A few months ago, I didn't know aliens existed or that I had super powers."

Ria smacked Dani on the elbow. "Psi isn't super powers."

Dani gave her a look.

"Yeah, okay. From a human perspective, maybe it is," Ria said.

Ria's com started screaming like a teenager, making both women jump. Dani's com followed a moment later with the atmosphere breach alert.

Ria wasn't sure what surprised her more, the screaming or the breach. "Harvey, silence the alert," Ria said. "And stop screaming." She'd modified her com on Earth, giving it access to the Internet. Over time and with some tweaking on her part, it was developing a personality. The results so far had proved amusing. She never knew what Harvey would do.

"Yes, ma'am," her com said, sounding miffed.

Dani shot her a what-the-fuck look as they bolted for the portal. "That scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry." Ria stifled a laugh. "I've been playing with the interface. Screaming female wasn't exactly what I was going for."

Ria pulled up the status of the six cloaked transport ships that currently surrounded Earth. Two of them were picking up an alien signature on the planet. How is that even possible? __ They stepped through the portal together. Ria felt the familiar pull on her body and tingle of her psi as they were transported from the station to Earth. They emerged in Ian and Dani's study on Cat Island in the Bahamas. The portal exited through the fireplace and onto woven grass rugs. White floor-to-ceiling bookcases covered the walls, and a massive desk sat near a window overlooking the cliff and water below.

"What gives, Ian?" Ria said. "How could we have an atmosphere breach without an approach from space?"

Ian ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. It was obvious that he and Dani were communicating telepathically via their bond.

Dani's face paled.

The shock was evident in Ian's voice. "They exited hyper-space inside the impact zone."

"Frack me," Ria said. Who would do that? Inside the zone meant it was pure luck they didn't exit partially or fully inside the planet. Earth could have been destroyed today. A cold sweat formed on her skin as the horrific scene played out in her mind.

The fourth EP currently on Earth at the moment entered the room from the hallway. The arrogant albino, Armond, had arrived from the tunnels and looked as shocked as the rest of them.

The final EP, Marco, was on a mission with Ian's uncle and wouldn't be back for a few weeks, at least.

Ian projected the status holo and searched the incoming data.

Armond joined them as information updates came in on the vid. "Identified?"

"Torogs," Ian said, looking puzzled.

"Where are they headed?" Ria asked.

Ian scratched his head. "They were headed straight toward Asia, but they've changed course."

Ria followed the trajectory of the signal. "They're coming here." The last time the Torogs had visited Cat Island they'd stormed the villa. Their ball-jointed limbs and leathery bodies had half climbed, half fallen through the dining room window. At the same time, they'd smashed in the front door. Dani and Ian had almost died when the Torogs bombed the tunnel that led from Ian's villa. The whole thing had been a mess. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke," Ian said. He brought up the villa's sensors that showed it cloaked and shielded. "They can't get in here. Question is, what do they want? Why did they change course?"

"What if they weren't headed to Asia, but the Maldives?" Ria asked.

The EPs had bases around the globe. Ian on Cat Island, Ria in Lago Como, Marco in New Zealand, and Armond in the Maldives.

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"It would explain the change of course if they're tracking Armond. They were headed to his base. Now they're coming here."

"Why would they be doing that?" Armond looked down on her with an air of superiority.

"I don't know. You're the self-proclaimed genius. You figure it out."

On screen the Torog signal approached the Island. It hovered around the Cat for nearly ten minutes before blasting out of the atmosphere and setting off another round of alarms. They followed the signature until they were satisfied the aliens weren't coming back.

Ian answered an incoming call. He spoke briefly and disconnected. "My father wants to see us."

A network of subterranean tunnels interconnected by portals existed deep under the Earth's surface. The EPs used them to travel the globe and the Cavacent clan for mining the rare and precious mineral carnium. The team filed out of Ian's library and headed for the cruiser. Twenty minutes later, they were gathered in Ria's villa in Bellagio, Italy. Rucon Cavacent, Ian's father, had chosen Lago Como as the location of the new Cavacent compound, currently under construction in the hills above the lake. In the meantime, Ria's villa was the most centrally located and served as temporary headquarters. They gathered around the large dining room table. Ria had instantly felt at home the first time she had seen the marble floors and rich browns and reds of the walls of the ornate Italian villa. She'd inherited it from a previous EP and wouldn't change a thing.

Rucon was not happy as he wrapped up a call to someone on his com. "They must pay for this. They could have destroyed us. Not to mention the entire planet is buzzing with the news of something leaving the atmosphere. Earth is still a dark planet. They don't know about us." Rucon paused, listening before he continued. "Agreed. Thank you, Torril. I'll be in touch."

Torril Anantha. Ria was impressed. Not many people were on a first name basis with the head of the newly formed Galactic Trade Organization.

Rucon tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "He's launching an investigation. Even with the current state of unrest, risking an entire planet warrants the GTO's attention. There will also be a small battleship stationed along with our transport ships. If they attempt this again, we'll be able to hunt them down."

Chasing the Torogs wasn't an option with the transport ships. Although heavily armed, they weren't designed for pursuit.

"For now," Rucon said standing, "we keep all bases shielded at all times."

Rucon was taking this seriously. Full-time shielding meant full-time monitoring as well. The shields prevented anyone and anything from crossing their perimeter. From the local deliveryman to birds and animals. It wouldn't do to have humans walking into an invisible wall.

Rucon interrupted her thoughts before she could ask how long he expected to keep the shields active. "One more thing. Assuming everything remains quiet, Mara and I have accepted an invitation to attend the Summer's Ball on Mitah this year. An old friend of mine lives there." He scanned the faces around the table. "We've all been working hard since coming to Earth. I think it's time for a break. As long as we don't have further complications from the Torogs, I'm extending the invitation to the whole team. We'll make a portal back to Earth as soon as we get to Mitah."

"Excellent," Ria said.

The others were equally excited about the prospect.

Rucon said his goodbyes, leaving the rest to discuss plans.

Dani, who'd never been anywhere other than Earth and Sandaria, was bouncing up and down. "Anyone been to Mitah?"

"I've never been," Ria said, "but I dated a guy from there for a while at the academy. It's supposed to be beautiful." And it would be great to have another world to go to occasionally.

"And you guys?" Dani asked.

Armond shook his head, but Ian nodded. "We've been a few times. You're going to love it. It's a three-day visual spectacle, complete with a masquerade ball. You two"—Ian nodded to Ria and Dani—"are going to need to go ahead of time for dresses."

Dani clapped her hands like a child.

Ria nearly choked on her water. "Why? We're an hour and a half from Milan. World class designers and all that."

Ian crossed his arms and smiled. "Yes, but you can only get Mitan silk from Mitah, and trust me. You want Mitan silk."

It had been four days since the Torog's return to Earth. There had been no further attempts. Whether that was due to the battleship now orbiting with Rucon's transport ships or not, they had no idea. Ria and the other EPs were forty minutes into a training session in her sim room on Bellagio. They'd chosen a tropical jungle with four different types of alien life forms for variety. Distinguishing between harmless native wildlife and deadly aliens wasn't always easy. It was a team mission, and so far, they hadn't lost anyone. Today's weapon of choice was a small handheld laser called a dart. It worked like a gun on one setting and like a two-and-a-half-foot sword in the other. The training models were designed to deplete rapidly over time until only the sword function remained, and that got shorter until only the casing was left. So far, everyone still had functioning guns.

It was she and Dani's turn to hold their base. Ian and Armond flushed the surrounding area. Ian was ahead in kills, but so far, she and Dani were ahead on team saves. So as usual, the women were keeping them alive, and the guys were shooting things.

Ria wiped the sweat from her eyes. "We need to pick a desert next time. This humidity sucks."

"You get used to it," Dani said.

The bushes to their left rustled, and both women swung their lasers in the ready.

Ian stepped out and grabbed Dani, planting a kiss on her before he disappeared back into the foliage.

"Seriously?" Ria said. "You can't go an hour without locking lips?"

Ian's laughter rippled through the trees.

Dani beamed.

Ria rolled her eyes.

Another rustle, and a four-legged creature with razor sharp teeth launched itself at Ria's chest. "Morits!" Ria called out as she sliced the critter in half.

The sound of Ian and Armond battling away let her know they'd found the nasty critters as well. Six more made it past the men. Dani made easy work of the two that had targeted her. Ria nearly made it unscathed but when four hit her at once from all sides, one managed to latch onto her lower arm. Those jaws had some serious force, and her hand popped off, dropping the creature to the ground with it.

"Aw, come on. Not fair. There were four of them." Ria lifted up her wrist and studied the bloody stump. "Halt sim."

Ian and Armond approached from opposite ends of the clearing, equally covered in sweat.

Dani came to her side and inspected her handless arm. "It would be easier if they were bigger. It's hard to keep track of them when they're so small."

"Perhaps your relative height to the ground also contributed to your demise," Armond said.

Ria glared at him. "Are you _seriously_ going there?"

"I'm simply stating that you were closer to them than Dani."

"Whatever," Ria said. "Little shits. Reset sim," she called out.

Morit bodies and Ria's hand evaporated. The illusion of a bloody stump did, as well, and her own hand reappeared as they all caught their breath. The jungle around them melted into the floor, and they soon stood in the metal gray of the sim room.

"That wasn't bad," Ian said. "We made it nearly an hour, outnumbered five to one. I'm good with that."

Ria was annoyed by the fact that she'd been the one to go out first.

She was still in a bad mood later that night when she sat at the kitchen table with her two Support Agents, Gina and Battista. They lived in a suite of rooms off the kitchen. Together, they cooked, cleaned, and took care of the estate. They looked like a normal, older Italian couple—a bit on the pudgy side, but sprightly enough. In truth, they were both highly trained and fully in the know about aliens. Across the table, they were giggling over a shared joke. Looking at them fawn over each other, you'd think they were psi-mates like Dani and Ian, but they weren't. They were simply humans in love and, at the moment, irritating.

Gina finished a bite of pasta and chuckled at Ria. "Ms. Dani, she tell me you lose today. It's not like you to lose, no?"

Ria bit the side of her cheek, still steaming. "I was being attacked by four furballs with teeth." She shoved a large forkful into her mouth.

Apparently sensing Ria's chagrin, Battista jumped into the conversation. "We ran into the Mancini boy in town yesterday. He said to tell you hello and give him a call someday."

"He likes you, all right." Gina patted her arm. "You should call him. Maybe have dinner."

Ria pulled a strand of hair from her pasta. "If he ever decides to grow up, maybe I will."

Battista burst out laughing. "If he's like his _papi,_ that will never happen."

"How about that cook in town?" Gina said. "He always makes a point of coming out and saying hello when you go to his restaurant."

Ria appreciated their concern, but the conversation just made everything worse. She pushed her chair back and grabbed her plate.

" _Bellisima_ , where are you going?" Battista asked.

" _Si,_ " Gina said, frowning at the food left on her plate. "You have not finished. You don't like it? I can make you something else." Gina moved to get up, as well, but Ria waved her back down.

"No, no. I'm just not hungry right now." She wasn't usually this abrupt, but between spending the afternoon around Dani and Ian and now these two, her single status was starting to annoy her. She considered walking into town and having a drink but didn't think that would help. With the clan's move to Earth, the constant construction of the compound, and flipping Torogs showing up, dating hadn't been a priority.

At least now, she had something to look forward to. The Summer's Ball sounded like the perfect excursion. "I'll save the rest for later. You two enjoy dinner. I'm going to hit the sim room for a while before I call it a night." Normally, she wouldn't want a workout this late, but she was feeling antsy. Her psi buzzed with too much energy. In lieu of having a decent male specimen in her life, a match or two in the sim room would have to do.

**Chapter 2**

"It's only four days. I think you'll live." Ria flipped on the tracking beacon for the tower on Mitah's landing port.

"You could at least show a little sympathy," Dani said from the seat next to her.

"Are all humans this sappy when they find their mate?"

"I'm afraid we have a long and sordid history of embarrassing acts and misdeeds, all committed in the name of love." She kissed Ian's image on her com screen.

"Ugh. Get a grip. We only have two days to find three days worth of party clothes down there. I need you focused, not pining over Ian."

The cockpit display framed the planet as it grew larger with their approach. Mitah was a double-mooned planet in a single star system very similar to Earth. They would return in a little over a month for the Summer's Ball.

"So, you gonna pick out Ian's outfits?" Ria asked.

"He didn't want anything new. Just a mask for the masquerade ball on the second night." Dani reached for her com, stopped herself, and started tapping her fingers on her knee. "You'd think you could get the material on other worlds."

"Only knock-offs. For the real thing, you have to go to Mitah. It's actually tourism genius if you ask me."

"I suppose."

The silkworms on Mitah produced bioluminescent thread. The fabric was unnaturally strong, lightweight, and never faded. The government limited the amount tourists could buy and guarded the production secrets.

Ria adjusted their descent to match the port guidance signal. "How's Ian doing with Armond?"

Armond and the rogue Portal Masters on Earth were trying to teach Ian how to make a portal using the device the EPs captured from the Torogs shortly before the fall of the empire.

"He thinks he's nearly there. It's a good thing, too, because he's really getting fed up with Armond's arrogance."

"Gods, I bet," Ria said.

"Ian said the other Portal Masters being there helps." Dani let out a small groan. "I'm next you know. Not looking forward to spending hours with Armond."

Ria laughed. "I know. Good luck with that. Still, if you and Ian can learn to make portals as well as Armond, we'll all feel better."

"Yeah, having that condescending ass in charge of all our portals is seriously unnerving. I wonder if Mordo and Durgan are having any luck."

"Me, too. I don't think Rucon's heard any news yet."

Ian's uncle, Mordo, and a Portal Master named Durgan were searching distant worlds for others like Armond, Ian, and Dani, who possessed an alternate form of psi. Marco, their last EP, was with them for protection.

"Do you think they'll make it back in time for the ball?" Dani asked.

"Doubtful," Ria said. "It's a shame, really. Can you imagine Marco at the ball?"

Dani laughed. "He'd have women lined up." She slipped her com out and pulled up a photo. "I miss Ian."

Ria sighed. Another hour and a half and they'd be on the surface. Hopefully, shopping would be a distraction. It was a day and a half from Earth to the interstellar jump point, and another two to Mitah's spaceport. They planned on two days to purchase their gowns, masks, and anything else they could find, and then it was back home until they returned for the ball itself.

"We'll get some shopping done, then we're having lunch with Laric Jara and his folks. Hopefully that will take your mind off Ian."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Dani said, sliding the com back into her pocket. "I do need to think about something else, though." She turned her gaze to the planet below. "What is that?"

A large object rose from the far side of Mitah. Ria smiled. "It's the second moon. I can't wait to get a look at them at night."

"Sweet," Dani said, resting her arms on the console. "Mitah's beautiful. Lots of water."

"It is pretty. Smaller than Earth and has only about three-quarters the amount of land."

Ria adjusted their course and took a moment to admire the vehicle. The Cavacent clan spared no expense on their fleet of transport ships. They brought to the vessels a level of opulence rarely seen in transports of this class. Even their terrestrial shuttles, like the one they were in now, were over the top. The best Sandarian leather and control panels inlaid with exotic woods gave the shuttle the feel of a luxury liner rather than a transport ship. "We'll be landing at the capital of Starfall on the southern continent of Mooriac." Ria pointed to the upper right of the planet. "Laric will meet us at the port and take us to Watersedge where we can do some shopping." She sang the last word and winked at Dani. "Laric used to tell me stories about the wild beasts that live in the Trillian forests. I forget what they're called, but people come from all over to hunt them. It's a dangerous sport with a couple of deaths every year. Never understood why someone would risk their life to hunt a wild animal."

"Doesn't appeal to me either," Dani said.

"Especially with all the sim technology these days. I actually like hunting, just not for real."

Dani flipped on the polarization as the sun came into view beyond the planet. "Tell me about Laric. What's he like?"

"He's good looking, taller than me—"

"Everyone is taller than you," Dani interrupted.

Ria smacked Dani in the head with her psi. "He's a redhead, too. We used to get teased mercilessly by our classmates. It never bothered him, though. That's one of the things that drew me to him in the first place. Nothing gets under his skin."

"What happened with you two? We're staying with his folks, so obviously you're still friends."

"I don't know. We flirted through the first year at the academy, dated through the second, avoided each other for the third, and got to be friends again the final year." Their assigned approach vector popped up on the console in front of her, and she accepted it.

"What broke you up?"

"I guess it was sort of a mutual acknowledgment that what we had, although nice, wasn't very exciting. Just wasn't any passion there for me. No thrill. When I told him at the beginning of the third year that I wanted a break, he didn't argue." Ria entered a sequence of commands with her psi, enabling a manual approach. "We missed each other's company that year. When we started hanging out again, it was good. Just friends. Been that way ever since. We touch base now and then. When Rucon announced our little vacation here, I called him. I'm glad he's on leave. It will be nice to see him again."

"Who knows," Dani said. "Maybe it will work out this time."

"He's full-time military. I'd only see him on leave. Besides, I want what every Sandarian wants, what you and Ian have. I want a psi-mate. We were together long enough to know that's not happening." Ria checked the course and pushed her chair back. She set her com on the console in front of her and projected a mirror. She brushed her straight red hair and pulled it into a ponytail.

"Primping already?" Dani asked, pulling out her own brush.

"I haven't seen him in years. A girl's got to look her best."

"It was nice of his folks to let us stay with them."

"It was. Always nice to save a few credits. Hotels here cost a small fortune." Ria finished up and took back full control of the shuttle, bringing it in for a perfect landing.

Interstellar travel always had an edge of cold to it. Ria flung her arms over the back of the seat of the open top cruiser, closed her eyes, and let the sun do its thing. She and Dani were dressed in the standard EP attire, and she looked forward to changing into summer clothes as the sun warmed her. "This is fantastic." She'd been a little nervous about seeing Laric, but they'd fallen into their old camaraderie like slipping on a favorite pair of jeans.

"Glad we had a nice sunny day for your arrival. I ordered it just for you two," Laric said.

"We appreciate that." Ria inhaled deeply and took in the view. They wound their way around the edge of Starfall, then out into the country towards Watersedge. It was a beautiful ride. Laric peppered them with local history and tidbits. The forests and mountain ranges of Mitah were highly celebrated. Protected from development, beings came from across the galaxy to trek, climb, and explore the stunning terrain. And of course, there was the hunting. The road to Watersedge hugged the largest of these natural preserves. Only two small towns stood between Starfall and their destination, and they were both low-tech. Probably lower class Mitans and their Curzan slaves.

Still _,_ Ria took in the towering mountains in the distance, if you have to be poor, this is the place to do it. She imagined that between the garden plots next to nearly every home and the hunting possibilities of the preserve, they probably lived fairly well.

The mountains were heavily forested. Vertical cliffs ran along the base of the range to the left. It looked as though some cosmic giant had sliced off the foot of the range. One of the moons crested the peak. It would soon be tailed by its smaller brother.

They made good time, and Laric dropped them off at one end of the market while he took care of some business of his own before lunch.

Ria queried her com. "Harvey, show me a map of the places Laric suggested."

"Yes, sugar. Y'all are real close to this here specialty gown shop." Harvey spoke in a female voice with a Texan drawl.

Ria snorted.

"Nice," Dani said.

The holo showed a picture of a shop front expanding in size. Ria moved the holo to one side and saw it was only four doors from where they stood.

"Looks good to me, shall we?"

Dani swept her arm out. "After you, sugar."

Twenty minutes later, Ria pushed aside the flimsy curtain of a dressing stall and spun in circles over to the mirror. She loved the way the bottom of the dress flared out when she twirled. Purple silk and lace hugged her diminutive frame and accentuated her breasts. She took a deep breath, taking in the smell of incense and fresh ocean air. There was an energy here that had her totally fired up.

The shopkeeper had dedicated a large portion of the back of the shop to dressing rooms. Six stalls radiated from a circular waiting area. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors stood between each stall. A large, framed open doorway led to the shop floor, leaving the space bright and airy. Upbeat music piped in from overhead made for a fun atmosphere.

A man's voice came from out front, and Ria's stomach did an odd flip-flop. The lady shopkeeper laughed at something he said. "You're far too sweet, Ty. Now, come here and let me show you."

The small woman led a dark-haired man to the doorway. "Don't mind us, dears. Just some repairs that need doing."

Dani swept out of her stall and twirled to Ria's side.

The shopkeeper reached out and showed the man where the doorframe had been split in half. "The girls were perfectly behaved. It's when the boys showed up that things got out of control." She shook her head and handed the broken frame segment to the man. "They broke the bench in the third stall over there, as well."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Tiddle, I'll have it all fixed in no time." The man smiled, then turned to Ria.

Long bangs hung over part of his face and nearly covered smoky gray eyes.

Ria caught her breath as her psi buzzed. It was a crazy buzz, like something from a dream half-remembered. The kind where you wake yourself laughing only to have the memory go up in a puff of smoke. The reason for laughing was gone, but it left you happy.

He grinned and returned to the front of the shop.

"Hello? Earth to Ria? Or, Mitah to Ria, whatever." Dani snapped fingers in front of her face.

Ria focused on her friend. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, what do you think of this?" Dani wore a white gown that had black gems woven throughout in a beguiling pattern. The dress would shine with an ethereal light of its own in the dark.

"Spectacular," Ria said.

The shopkeeper hustled in then with an armful of glittery, sheer fabric. She set them down on a bench and held one up.

"Oh, they're beautiful," Dani said rushing over.

White wings made with loosely woven silk had a life of their own as Mrs. Tiddle held them up. "Turn around, dear."

Dani spun around, and the woman attached the wings to her back. The theme of the infamous Summer's Ball on Mitah this year was a mythical creature called the _Swali_. They were not unlike Earth's fairies and were said to have magical abilities, including seeing into the future.

The shopkeeper extended another set of wings, purple this time to match Ria's dress.

Ria fingered the delicate material. Silky soft, they sparkled with her touch. "I'm afraid I'll break them."

"Goodness no, sweetie. This is Mitan silk. It's been treated to be somewhat rigid, and is very strong. Now turn around."

The crazy energy was back, and Ria laughed as she spun around and found the man standing in the doorway.

Her breath caught again as his eyes sparked. Ria froze. _Mother Goddess, could it be?_

The man had a surprised look on his face that must surely match her own.

Mrs. Tiddle stepped back to admire her work. Her head went from Ria to the man and back again. "Where are my manners? Ty, dear, this is Ria and Dani. They're visiting from a planet called Earth, shopping for the ball."

"The wings were a giveaway." He nodded and Ria's psi buzzed. "You both look stunning."

"Thanks," Dani said, spinning in front of the mirror. "This will look perfect next to Ian's tux."

"And we're back to Ian." Ria shook her head, trying to clear the fog that had descended.

Dani gave her a nudge with her psi.

Ria did her own pirouette in front of the mirror. She felt supremely self-conscious knowing that Ty watched her. _Ty._ Could he be the one?

Every ounce of her body thrilled. Stuck in free fall, she could barely breathe.

She watched him in the mirror as he used a metal bar to pry off the rest of the doorframe. His short-sleeved T-shirt showed muscled arms and hinted at a rippled abdomen.

She pictured herself trailing her fingers down his abs and wasn't quite able to stifle a low moan.

Dani pulled her to the side. "You're staring...and you're totally flushed." She grinned. "Got the hots for someone?"

"Shhh. He'll hear you."

"Funny how sound travels in a small, round room." His voice resonated deep inside her.

To buy this book or find out more check here.

A lifelong lover of books, Sabine grew up on Science Fiction, Fantasy and Romance novels. As a child she wanted to be an astronaut and travel the stars looking for aliens. As an adult she's seriously disappointed we've yet to establish so much as a moon base (although she gives a hearty nod to the ISS) and is pretty sure Humans aren't ready to meet ET.

An Electrical Engineer and Cultural Anthropologist by training, she's a geek with heart. She's lived in more states than she cares to admit and loves to travel. When not in far off lands, you can frequently find her walking the local beaches and plotting her next adventure.

Sabine lives in Florida with her husband, kids, cats and an increasingly large mess of characters in her head.

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# Peyton's Myth by S.M. Schmitz

# About Peyton's Myth

When a mysterious spaceship appears above Cambria, Zoe remains skeptical that it's anything but an elaborate hoax. By the time the first spaceship is joined by two others, Zoe reluctantly admits that Earth has been invaded, even though it's a pretty lame invasion: the aliens look remarkably human and keep to themselves. From what humans are able to learn about them, they seem incredibly arrogant and boring anyway.

After meeting Peyton, one of Earth's newest residents, Zoe feels an immediate attraction to him although she is reluctant to become involved with someone who isn't even human. But she soon discovers that these aliens are far more dangerous than they've led everyone to believe, and the secrets they are hiding may signal the destruction of her entire planet.

# Excerpt of Peyton's Myth

Chapter 1

Zoe dropped her purse on the desk in her office cubicle and peeked over the divider into the cubicle next to hers. Mia, her friend and coworker, was already logged on and staring intently at her computer monitor. Zoe looked around quickly to make sure their boss wasn't around to notice she was late.

"Hey, I brought kolaches," Zoe whispered.

Mia didn't look away from her monitor. Zoe wasn't even sure she'd _heard_ her, so she clutched the small bag and walked around the divider to put a sausage kolache on Mia's desk. Mia still didn't look up at her.

"You're welcome," Zoe snapped.

Mia finally glanced at her. "What?"

Zoe raised an eyebrow at her and pointed to the pastry on her desk. Mia glanced at it too then went back to reading whatever was on her computer monitor.

"Thanks," Mia mumbled.

"For God's sake, get off Facebook and at least pretend to work like the rest of us."

Mia shook her head. "Not on Facebook."

Zoe finally walked behind her friend's chair to see what had her so riveted. Zoe only got through the first paragraph of the news story when she stopped reading and laughed.

"It's a hoax, Mia. You can be so gullible."

Mia spun around and glared at Zoe. "It's on every news site, but there's so much traffic, I can't get the live streams to play. Let's go to the break room and watch it on TV."

Zoe tossed the rest of the kolaches on the desk and threw her hands in the air. "There's nothing to watch! Space ships don't suddenly appear in the sky, and aliens aren't invading. If there were anything out there, our telescopes would have picked it up long before it was close enough to land. And besides, this whole thing is ridiculous. There's no such _thing_ as aliens."

Mia scooped up her sausage kolache and ignored her friend. "I'm going to the break room."

Zoe stared at the maroon fabric covering Mia's back for a few seconds before her curiosity as to how many other coworkers had been conned triumphed over her indignation that people were being conned in the first place. She grabbed her bag of kolaches again and followed Mia into the break room. She had to wiggle through the crowd that had gathered around the television to reach Mia's side.

"Ok, I'll admit," Zoe said, "this is still better than working."

"I heard that," her boss responded. Zoe turned around and smiled at him then handed him the bag of breakfast pastries to apologize.

Zoe turned her attention to the newscaster on the screen who talked about the _spacecraft_ that would be entering the Earth's atmosphere soon. It had slowed considerably over the past hour, which made _experts_ think the _spacecraft_ was manned.

"Who the hell are these experts?" Zoe asked.

The entire room hushed her.

Zoe crossed her arms defiantly and scowled at the television.

The cameraman zoomed in on a small, bright object in the pale blue morning sky. Mia shot Zoe an I-told-you-so look, but Zoe rolled her eyes and whispered, "Airplanes reflect sunlight, too, Mia."

"You're just being stubborn," Mia whispered back.

"I'm being realistic," Zoe insisted.

The room hushed her again.

"The spacecraft is in our atmosphere now, and we should have an idea where it's heading within minutes," the reporter said, looking far too serious about the most elaborate hoax the media had ever pulled, although Zoe had to hand it to her: she was a good actress.

"Area 51," Zoe told the TV.

Everyone in the room groaned.

Zoe just shrugged.

Her boss tapped her on the shoulder and handed her the bag of kolaches. "Here, eat these. It'll keep you from talking."

Zoe scowled at him, too, but took her kolaches back.

The cameraman zoomed in on the mysterious object in the sky, but it was reflecting too much sunlight. Zoe wanted to make another offhand comment about it just being a weather balloon or something, but she had a mouthful of cheese and sausage kolache.

The reporter announced they were cutting away to an affiliate in Cambria because if the "spacecraft" stayed on its current trajectory, it would land outside of the city.

Zoe lived and worked in Cambria.

She choked on the mouthful of kolache and Mia patted her on the back without looking away from the screen.

When Zoe stopped coughing, she chastised her friend. "You're not supposed to do that if someone's choking. It can only lodge the food farther down their esophagus."

"You are such a dork."

" _You're_ the dork who thinks a UFO is about to land outside the city."

"Shhhh," the room hissed at her again.

A familiar news anchor appeared on screen, his normally handsome face looking ashen and shaken. He announced news crews were on their way to the most likely site for the UFO to land – except he didn't call it a UFO. He insisted on calling it a _spacecraft,_ which still made Zoe want to laugh.

"Well, how considerate of our alien invaders," Zoe said. "They're heading to the airport."

She got kicked out of the break room for that.

Zoe wondered if her boss would even notice if she went home. She walked back to her cubicle and grabbed her purse, but as she glanced out of the window of her seventh floor office, she noticed the congestion on the streets below, the people who had stopped in the middle of the street to watch the sky – or more accurately, the strange object descending in the sky toward the Cambria International Airport.

Zoe dropped her purse and caught an elevator so she could go stand in the streets to watch the UFO, too. It was almost nine in the morning now, and as she watched the huge, not-at-all-disc-shaped-spaceship loom larger, she felt someone tug on her elbow. Zoe jumped and jerked around to see Mia's face pointed toward the sky, one hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun.

"Still think it's a hoax?" Mia asked.

Zoe studied the odd shape of the... _whatever_ it was... and nodded. "It looks like an oversized stealth bomber. How can you _not_ think it's a hoax?"

"Because who would spend that kind of money just to laugh at the world after freaking us all out?"

Zoe shrugged and eyed the dark metal shape as its nose dipped toward the airport.

"Just wait. The financial aspect of this is coming. Maybe they'll charge to see what's on board, like a pay-per-view unveiling. And then they'll sell t-shirts and coffee mugs on eBay that claim, 'I wasn't fooled,' even though I'm apparently the only one who wouldn't be lying."

Mia smiled and shook her head as they both watched the oversized-stealth-bomber disappear behind the skyscrapers.

"Zoe, you're the only one who's going to be saying 'I was wrong.' And for once, I'll finally get to be right about something."

Zoe extended her hand and smiled back at her friend. "It's a bet then. And when _I_ win, you're buying the kolaches for a week."

Mia snorted and looked back in the direction where the spacecraft had landed.

"Let's just hope we're both still alive to enjoy those kolaches, no matter who's buying them."

**Chapter 2**

Zoe felt vindicated when absolutely nothing happened after the dull gray UFO touched down at the Cambria airport, but since everyone was so _convinced_ something really exciting or terrifying was about to happen, she got the next day off. And the day after that. On the third day, though, her boss decided he couldn't keep his office closed indefinitely and she had to return to her tedious job as a corporate paralegal, which meant filing tedious paperwork with tedious government offices for tedious attorneys who didn't appreciate the gridlock the supersized stealth bomber landing had caused throughout the city.

Every news agency in the world had descended on Cambria and on the day her boss insisted she get back in her cubicle to make sure Brown & Marvin, LLC could do business as "The Cambrian Martian Bakery," Zoe came _really_ close to handing in her resignation right then. She wondered how many businesses in Cambria were suddenly going to do business as alien bakeries and dry cleaners and sushi restaurants now.

She was never shopping anywhere in Cambria again.

The stupid spacecraft didn't even _do_ anything. It had landed at the Cambria International Airport three days ago and the U.S. military had quickly followed it. Since then, they'd sealed off the entire area and the damn space-plane just sat on a runway _not_ _doing anything_. No doors opened. No aliens waved hello or shot at the soldiers surrounding it. No voices boomed from invisible speakers. No one beamed down from some invisible portal beneath the ship.

It was the lamest alien invasion Zoe could imagine.

Mia sat in her cubicle glued to her computer screen just watching the live coverage like a green-scaled-tentacled monster was going to slither down some gangplank that mysteriously dropped from the side of what Zoe still thought was a U.S. Air Force plane on steroids.

"Wasting your time," Zoe whispered over the cubicle wall.

Mia waved a hand in the air as if Zoe were an annoying fly she could shoo away.

"How long are they just going to stand out there watching an airplane?" Zoe continued.

Mia glanced at her then turned her attention back to the screen.

"Until the aliens on board make the first move. We don't want them to assume we're aggressive."

Zoe snorted and shook her head. "We've got a million guys out there with guns and rocket launchers. Pretty sure we've already sent that message."

Mia just shrugged. "We have to defend ourselves in case _they're_ aggressive."

Zoe sighed and walked around the cubicle wall, tossing the file for Brown & Marvin, LLC on her friend's desk. "It's not manned. There's no one on board to be aggressive. And file this for me before I lose my mind."

"I'll do the Martian bakery if you want to do the Neptune bar."

Zoe groaned and said a silent prayer that the bar she would now have to boycott wasn't the only one in the city that knew how to make a decent Biltmore martini.

"Have you seriously been staring at your television for the past three days and watching a parked airplane?" Zoe asked. She peeked inside the bar file and sighed in relief when she didn't recognize the name.

"I've kept it on," Mia said. "I don't want to miss it when something _does_ happen, and something _will_. Someone flew that spaceship here, Zoe, and calling it an airplane doesn't make it less of a spaceship. What it _means_ is that we finally have proof there's intelligent life out there besides us."

Zoe held up the bakery file and arched an eyebrow at her. "Besides us? I think you meant there's intelligent life out there off this planet."

Mia rolled her eyes but Zoe saw her boss approaching and quickly flipped the file open to pretend like she was asking a question. And her boss didn't fall for it just as he didn't fall for it any other time she got caught standing around _not_ working.

She wasn't really sure why she hadn't been fired yet.

"Zoe," he sighed. "Get the Certificate of Assumed Name form filled out and filed. And Mia, turn off CNN. Nothing's happening."

"Told you," Zoe told her friend. "Even Mr. Robeson agrees with me."

"No," he argued. "I just want you to _work_ before we lose our clients."

"Yes, Sir," she mumbled. She flipped the file closed and Mia moved the cursor across the screen to close the live streaming of a reporter standing the minimum allowable distance from the strange aircraft that had been parked on a runway at the Cambria International Airport for three days.

"Oh, my God," Mia whispered.

Even Mr. Robeson turned around and stood closer to Mia's computer, who reached over to the speakers and turned up the sound.

"Oh, how thrilling," Zoe smiled. "It's making an unusual sound."

"Again with the sarcastic comments?" Mr. Robeson sighed.

He sighed at her a lot, too.

"There's no such thing as aliens or alien spaceships, Mr. Robeson. But if you'd like to send us home again just in case, I won't complain."

Mr. Robeson shook his head. "That's the one thing you _wouldn't_ complain about."

"Shh," Mia hissed.

Instead of looking surprised that one of his paralegals had just told him to be quiet, Mr. Robeson actually shut his mouth and leaned closer to the computer monitor as if his proximity to the screen would allow him to see what was going on around the entire airport.

"A door's opening," Mia gasped. She shot Zoe a quick "I-told-you-so" look and Zoe crossed her arms angrily. She just _knew_ this whole thing had to be some huge con and she wasn't falling for it.

A dull gray footbridge lowered from the side of the airplane and hit the pavement of the runway with a shrill screech. Zoe cringed but didn't unfold her arms. Admittedly, it was a _huge_ airplane, but still an airplane.

The camera angle cut away to a reporter who was going to be allowed to accompany General Edward Kensington to greet whomever – or whatever, according to the anchorwoman – was coming off the "spaceship." General Kensington and a small squad of soldiers began approaching the ship carefully and slowly, and every time the reporter spoke, which wasn't often, Zoe could hear the nervousness and abject fear she was trying to conceal in her voice. She suspected if the camera panned across the faces of the General and his soldiers, those same feelings would be betrayed, no matter how tough they thought they were or were pretending to be.

The camera, though, never left the mouth of the doorway that had opened. A narrow hallway filled with yellow-white light, much like the regular incandescent lights on Earth, stood behind the opening and nothing else. Zoe wanted to tell Mia "I told you so," but part of her was hoping _something_ even remotely exciting would happen.

Maybe her boss would let her go home again.

Movement at the rear of the hallway caused the entourage of soldiers to stop. The cameraman zoomed in even closer and a dull gray figure finally appeared on the screen, quickly followed by a second then third until a long line of equally dull gray figures began descending the footbridge.

Zoe exhaled irritably. "Are you kidding me?"

They looked completely, ordinarily human.

Definitely the lamest alien invasion ever.

"Sh," Mr. Robeson and Mia hissed.

Zoe rolled her eyes.

She wasn't sure how many men descended from the plane, but a small group of them approached the General. Aside from the guy out front being extraordinarily handsome, he was boringly _human_.

There was no way Mr. Robeson was going to send her home now.

The man leading the small group from the plane stopped in front of General Kensington and looked him over quickly.

"I assume you're in charge here?" he asked.

A boring human who spoke English.

This lamest of alien invasions kept getting lamer by the minute.

The camera didn't pan away from the beautiful man dressed in dull gray just like the ship he'd deboarded, but she heard General Kensington's voice respond.

"I'm in charge of this immediate situation. And we've been hoping to ascertain why you've come here."

Zoe rolled her eyes again. She could have written a better script than _this_.

"I'm only head of security. Once we confirm it's safe, you will meet our president and he can answer any questions you have. But we have nowhere else to go, and I assure you, we're not here to cause problems."

Zoe heard General Kensington exhale slowly then his body appeared on the screen as he approached the handsome man who was supposedly head of security of the worst-alien-spaceship-and-invasion-ever. The General extended his hand and offered the man a small smile.

"In that case, welcome to Earth."

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_P eyton's Myth _combines my interest in romance, action, thrillers, and science-fiction. But it's also my attempt to turn the tables on some gender stereotypes. Zoe is an atypical female main character for a romance: she's fiercely independent with a strong will, and sometimes displays characteristics that are associated with dominant male leads. With all three books of _The Cambria Code_ trilogy complete now, I can say that Zoe has been the most difficult character for me to write since it was important for the story arc that she make some questionable decisions early on. At the same time, she could be a fun character to whom in some respects I easily relate: we share the same sense of sarcastic humor.

S.M. Schmitz has an M.A. in modern European history and is a retired world history instructor. Her novels are infused with the same humorous sarcasm that she employed frequently in the classroom. As a native of Louisiana, she sets many of her scenes here, and like Dietrich in Resurrected, she is also convinced Louisiana has been cursed with mosquitoes much like Biblical Egypt with its locusts.

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# The Lady is Blue by Aurora Springer

# About The Lady is Blue

Intrepid scientist solves mystery of scaly aliens.

Dr. Lucy Stannis leads a quiet life as the chief biologist in the remote human colony on Eden, until an alien vessel makes first contact with the colonists. She is thrilled to meet the spaceship captain, the impressive Blue, Sa Kamizan Veedak, despite the scaled bodies and sharp claws of the formidable Atrapako. Conflicts arise, threatening the whole colony as well as Lucy's tenuous friendship with Sa Kamizan. Lucy must employ all her skills to discover their secret and save the colony.

If you like feisty heroines and mysteries where deceptions abound, then you'll enjoy this science fiction adventure with a surprise twist at the end.

# Excerpt of The Lady is Blue

The girders of the hold were cracked and rusty and the surface plates creaked against each other. Sa Kamizan swore. His spaceship was shaking to pieces. He strode back to the control room, bracing for more bad news. The disease was spreading through his crew. He was desperate for a haven after their dreadful voyage.

In the control room, the newly promoted science officer, Te Suzzaine, reported sighting a planet within the habitable zone of a nearby yellow star. It was their best hope. He ordered a course change towards the planet.

Next day, he sat in the navigator's seat, listening to the emissions from the planet. The persistent series of rhythmic repeats must be a signal from intelligent life. He growled in rage and tugged on his crest hairs. The only sanctuary they had found was already inhabited. The alien natives must be dealt with.

"Respond to their signal," he grated.

_R eport to the Terran Space Authority from Lucy Stannis. The aliens land on Eden today. They are reluctant to answer many questions. I'll try direct observations._

The huge, black spaceship descended slowly through the clouds. It dwarfed the small human shuttles escorting it to the ground. The landing field was so seldom used that grass was sprouting from cracks in the concrete. Dr. Lucy Stannis, covert Terran observer, sat alone, dangling her legs from the top of the perimeter barrier encircling the field. On her right, twenty feet below, she saw the official welcoming committee flanked by armed national guards. A vidicom crew recorded the scene from the opposite side of the perimeter wall.

The ship's retroengines shrieked as it descended slowly. Two of the landing shuttles had tractor beams stabilizing the alien spacecraft. As they neared the ground, the ship rocked violently, tilting on one side. Tractor beams shot out from the other two landers and held the ship steady. The engines roared, and cut out abruptly as it dropped onto the grassy plain with a shuddering crash. Lucy stared at the black ship. Meteor scars pitted and discolored its metal surface. No shields, she thought. Their technology must be primitive. Who would travel in space without deflector shields to ward off meteors and high energy cosmic particles? She trained her lenses expectantly on the side of the ship as it was sprayed with cooling water.

A hatch opened in the blackened surface and she held her breath as the tall figures marched out of the ship. The first two aliens were uniformly red in color. They stepped aside and were followed by others colored blue and green. Lucy zoomed in on the nearest one. It was coarsely humanoid, with reptilian scales and the head bore a raised crest of spines like a giant, upright lizard.

All the colonists were excited. The ship's arrival was the most thrilling event in the history of Eden. The scientists were ecstatic, since no one had ever discovered non-human intelligent beings. Lucy recalled tales of unusual human variants, but none as strange as the creatures from the black spaceship. She had so much to learn. While she mused, the distant colorful figures were led away by the welcoming committee and the curious crowd dispersed from the perimeter wall. The hatch in the ship closed again. There might be many more aliens inside. How could she learn more about them? Lucy waved at the vidi crew on the opposite side of the perimeter. She climbed agilely down the concrete barrier, and raced across the cleared space to the reporters.

Thirty minutes later, Lucy walked toward the vidinews offices in the city. One of the editors was a friend and might give her the latest reports on the aliens. Her visit was more productive than she had hoped. The editor was interested in the scientific perspective and enrolled her as a special correspondent. She was given a coded button to permit entry to an exclusive conference with the aliens that evening.

What do I wear to impress an alien? Lucy reflected.

* * *

Later that evening, Dr. Lucy Stannis, Chief Scientist in Molecular Research at the Science Institute and temporary journalist, left her house on the outskirts of the city of Riverside. She wore a blue top closely matching the blue of some of the aliens' scales. Blue was one of her favorite colors. Her long, dark hair was tied back with a blue ribbon, and she carried the coded button for entry to the meeting with the aliens. Her flitter bore her swiftly to the Cultural Center where the conference was to be held. The houses of the residential district gave way to the central shopping blocks where the streets were unusually crowded. Groups of people chatted excitedly in street corners. Everyone was discussing the strange arrivals.

The evening conference was scheduled for the aliens to meet important government officials and a select number of scientists. Lucy was glad of her unofficial status as reporter, since she had heard of agitated discussions and even fist fights among the top scientists for the chance to attend. All were eager to meet the aliens. Now she could sidestep the selection of scientists, without directly antagonizing her colleagues.

The crowds grew thicker as she approached the tower of the Cultural Center. Fortunately, a passage had been cleared to the entrance. From the comments she overheard, Lucy realized the aliens had just entered the building. She hurried up the stairway and was stopped by the guards at the top. The guards carefully scrutinized her code button before letting her enter. An attendant directed her to the conference room where the meeting was being held. Lucy ran down the corridor, skidding to a halt before the door to gather her breath.

The other reporters were gathered inside the door with coms in hand. Lucy slipped in to join them and turned to examine the other side of the room. The senior Governor, Mossy Fairweather, was making a welcoming speech. Lucy barely glanced at him. Her attention was focused on the bulky aliens. Her first impression, from the landing field, of humanoid figures, seemed less valid here where the aliens stood next to humans. They exuded muscular strength and power compared with the small and puny humans. Their reptilian scales gleamed like colored plates of armor. Their heads had two eyes and a central mouth. A spiky crest extended like a Mohawk haircut from a vertical ridge on top of their scaly heads, giving a bird-like effect. She would not have been surprised to see tails, although none poked from under their short tunics. Their feet were heavily scaled with dagger-like, hooked claws. They wore cloaks and tunics of the same bright color as their scales. Royal blue scales and cloaks predominated, although she also saw red, and green scales. Lucy wondered if they had different sexes.

The aliens stood very still and appeared to listen patiently to the speech. Afterwards, they were introduced to the human officials. Lucy recognized two of the senior scientists who were being introduced. She was envious because they were able to talk to the aliens.

A friendly journalist explained the aliens called themselves "Atrapako". Language translators had been set up and the Atrapako in the room had already taken hypnolessons in the Edeners' language. The reporters only expected to interview the humans at this meeting. Lucy was disappointed, and wondered how she could get closer to the aliens.

After a while, she noticed that not all the Atrapako were talking with humans, some of them watched silently. She wanted to approach them, but was afraid of giving offense. Lucy decided on a lateral attack. Opposite the entrance, a glass door led onto a balcony overlooking the botanical garden. Lucy skirted the edges of the room, partly concealed by her short height, and skipped to the glass door in her excitement. When she reached the door, she glanced back at the aliens and noted a big blue one staring in her direction. Lucy hoped it was curious. She sent a challenging stare, titling up her chin and tossing her hair provocatively.

The door was propped ajar to let in the cool night breezes. Lucy pushed it open and walked over to the edge of the balcony. She leaned over the railing and waited, scarcely breathing in anticipation. It was dark in the garden below, but she could smell the fresh leaves and night blooming flowers. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness when she heard a scraping sound behind her and the light from the open door was obscured briefly as someone passed through.

Lucy tensed in excitement. She hoped it was an alien.

A precise, toneless voice said, "Why did you come out here?"

Lucy swung around at the sound, and blinked in the bright light. The alien loomed as a black shadow. The dark figure moved onto the balcony and she could see more clearly.

"I came to look at the gardens," she replied, gesturing over the railing.

The Atrapako walked over to stand beside her and stared out. Little was visible yet. Glancing sideways, Lucy felt dwarfed by the alien. Definitely over six feet, she decided, and topped with another half foot of crest spines. It wore a dark blue tunic over blue scales. She checked the time quickly, then leaned over the railing again.

"Your eyes must be strong. I see little out there," the alien said.

"Our second moon, Venus, will rise in a minute and illuminate the gardens," Lucy explained. "Why did you come out?"

"I wished to speak with an alien female."

"Oh, good," said Lucy frankly. "I'm Doctor Lucy Stannis."

"My name is Sa Kamizan Veedak." He bowed slightly.

"You have the advantage of knowing more about my people than I do about yours," Lucy commented wryly. "I don't know if you are male or female."

The horizon grew lighter, as they watched in silence. The white moon, Venus, rose into the sky, flooding the gardens with pale light. Soon the moon flowers would open in the gardens.

Lucy glanced at the alien to examine its face in the bright moonlight. Its eyes were sunk deeply on either side of the bony ridge leading to the raised crest of stiff hairs on top of the head. The mouth was a thin line. She was fascinated. In this dim light she could imagine it was a human face in an ugly mask. The eyes looked very human.

The scaled face stared down at her and it spoke, "Show me the garden and I will teach you about my people."

Lucy looked over the balcony. It was about a ten foot drop to the ground. Not too far, for a small, athletic woman. Without waiting for her reply, the alien vaulted over the railing and leaped down with surprising ease for such a bulky body.

"Wait for me!" Lucy cried. She stooped, grasped the posts of the railing and lowered herself gingerly. She fell awkwardly to the ground and stumbled, but the alien caught her elbow and steadied her. The points of its claws pricked her arm through the thin material of her sleeves. Interesting, Lucy thought. The Atrapako had reached out to help her.

"Is it wrong to walk in the garden?" the alien asked.

"It is unusual at this time of night. But the garden is beautiful in the moonlight."

"Show me," the alien demanded.

Lucy led the alien along a narrow path between flower beds where they could watch the moon flowers open their large white petals and the gray moths fly in to feed. Meanwhile, Lucy learned about the Atrapako. She learned that Sa Kamizan Veedak was a mature male. He was to be called Sa Kamizan in public and Veedak only in private by close friends. He offered to introduce her to a female for comparison. Their home planet was hot and arid with harsh winds. Sa Kamizan was pleased to find such a fertile planet with much water and lush vegetation.

They walked to a fountain near the center of the garden and the alien stooped to peer at the goldfish swimming among the water lilies. Lucy would not have been surprised if he had scooped up a fish and eaten it. He was very curious about the fountain, staring as if he could not understand its purpose.

Lucy asked, "What, in your opinion, is the chief difference between your people and mine?"

"You mean, besides the obvious external differences?" he said.

"Yes."

"Your people are more emotional. Atrapako are logical and do only what is rational."

"I suppose it was rational to walk in the gardens with me," she said ruefully.

"It was a good opportunity to learn more about humans."

"Oh! I wasted my time showing you the beautiful flowers and moths," Lucy retorted indignantly.

"No," he said softly. "Your planet is lovely. I am glad to see such beauty."

Lucy ran her hand though the water. She resented being called emotional. Stretching her hand to the central spout, she directed a stream of fountain water toward the alien. It splashed onto him. He jumped back with crest flaring high. An alarm reaction, Lucy presumed.

"Why did you do that?" There was a trace of surprise in his flat voice.

"To see how you would react," she replied calmly.

He made a strange choking noise and tried to splash her.

Dodging the spray of water, she asked, "Are you laughing?"

"Yes! Do you wish to be wet?"

Lucy laughed. "I don't mind. It's a warm night. But, we'll look silly walking back into the meeting dripping with water."

"It is cold for me," Sa Kamizan said with a slight shiver.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Lucy said. "I shouldn't have dragged you out here and the water will make you colder."

He barked his laugh again and said coolly, "You would find it difficult to drag me anywhere."

They walked on. Lucy was elated. She had talked with an alien, an intelligent male.

They talked less as they approached the building. Lucy felt embarrassed and unsure of her strange companion striding beside her. The claws on his bare feet clicked against the stones of the path.

They rounded a corner, and the alien murmured, "Someone is hiding in the bushes."

Lucy heard the leaves rustle. She stepped forward and called, "Come out here, or I'll call the guards!" She preferred bold action, although she suspected there was little danger.

There was silence. Then, branches swayed as someone pushed through the shrubs. Lucy held her breath, reassured by the large Atrapako at her side. Instead of a dangerous villain, a young boy jumped onto the path.

"Come here," Lucy said. "We won't harm you." On this encouragement, the boy advanced hesitantly. His eyes were fixed on the alien.

"What is your name, and what are you doing here?" Lucy asked.

The boy stared up with wide eyes. "I'm Sammy Lee," he said. "I was only looking. They dared me."

"Is anyone else inside the fence, Sammy?" Lucy asked.

"No. They're too scared," Sammy said proudly.

Lucy glanced up at the alien who had remained silent during this exchange. "Sa Kamizan, let me introduce Sammy Lee, who has climbed a twelve foot fence to see an alien."

He flashed a glance at her, and turned to the boy. "Hello Sammy, I am pleased to meet you," he spoke in the typical toneless voice and then exposed his pointed teeth.

"Wow!" Sammy gasped. He dashed away into the darkness.

Lucy choked back a laugh as the scaled face turned to her. Sa Kamizan asked, "Did I scare the boy?"

"Not very much." She added helpfully, "It's your teeth. They make you look aggressive."

"Oh. I thought humans greeted each other that way."

Lucy stifled another chuckle. Was he trying to smile? "You should not show all your teeth if you intend to be friendly."

"Good," he said. "I was confused. Normally, this would mean I was angry." He bared a fine set of pointed white teeth.

Lucy leaned closer, peering at his sharp teeth. She would have liked to examine the unfamiliar dentition more closely. "It is a sign of aggression among humans too," she said. "I know it can be difficult to interpret facial expressions."

"Especially for an alien," he added.

They were now near the building and Lucy realized that their private conversation must end soon. "I wish I could speak your language as well as you speak mine," she said wistfully.

"The hypnotranslator is set up in our offices in the Conference Center. Tell them I sent you to learn our language, Kavkani," he offered.

They reached the building, and Lucy led the way in by a side door. Soon they would reach the meeting room. Lucy turned to her companion. "Forgive my impertinence," she said politely. "How may I distinguish you from other Atrapako?"

"You wish to know me again?" His eyes twinkled. "I am a Blue, and look here." Sa Kamizan pointed to a jagged line in the scales on one side of his face. "My enemies call me Scarface." He bared his teeth. "The scar will distinguish me."

He looked at her gravely for a minute and asked, "What are your distinguishing marks, Dr. Lucy Stannis?"

Lucy blushed at the question. "Well," she began slowly, "I am a short female with long, dark hair. Most of my scars are hidden by clothes. My eyes are blue." She stared at his eyes curiously. "Oh, your eyes are very blue. I've never seen such an intense color." She paused, recalling it was bad manners to stare at a stranger, never mind an alien. "I think people usually remember the relative size and shape of the nose, mouth and eyes in a human face."

He stepped back and ran his eyes over her face and figure. "I will remember. You can show me your scars another time." Then, he turned away and strode towards the door to the meeting room.

Lucy paused, puzzled by his words. What did he mean? She ran after Sa Kamizan, keeping two steps behind him, in deference or apparent deference, she was unsure which. He walked in openly, while she slipped inside and eased quietly into a group of humans.

Lucy found herself in a group of scientists. They didn't comment on her surreptitious entrance and might not have noticed. She knew one of them and was able to enter the conversation. Soon, she was introduced to another alien, a female scientist. Although, Te Suzzaine was clearly intelligent, Lucy found it more commonplace talking with her than with Sa Kamizan. Te Suzzaine had a slighter build than the Blue male and sported shiny green scales and a fine, fringed green crest. Her voice was colorless. Lucy mentally noted this common alien feature. They were discussing the more esoteric fringes of physics when Lucy realized that the room was emptying.

A tall, blue alien came to stand next to Te Suzzaine. "Come, Te Suzzaine. It is over."

Lucy recognized Sa Kamizan by his scar. He was watching her, not Te Suzzaine. She could have sworn he winked. Lucy was astonished to see such a human gesture.

Sa Kamizan said, "Goodnight, Dr. Stannis." He tilted his head slightly.

"Goodnight, Sa Kamizan," she replied, resisting the temptation to make a rude response. Why did she feel provoked by his arrogant gaze?

Lucy watched the two aliens walk away. Sa Kamizan Veedak's clawed fingers clenched and loosened repeatedly behind his back. She was intrigued by the Blue alien and hoped to meet him again. Yet, she was suspicious of his motives, and he must never learn her secret identity as a Terran spy.

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Reviewers say:

"A sassy human female and an arrogant, scaled alien spaceship Captain collide. What could possibly go wrong? Or go right? I really enjoyed this book."

"Really Captivating and Fun!"

The idea for the story came to me while I was working at Yale University. The heroine is a scientist, and scenes are set in her laboratory and in my fictional version of the real cafeteria at the top of the Kline Biology Tower at Yale University. In my story, the aliens and scientists eat lunch and interact in the cafeteria.

The story explores what it means to be human, and contrasts two social structures. The human colonists on the terraformed planet enjoy an easy lifestyle. They love celebrations and value the arts as well as sciences. The alien Atrapako prefer logical reasoning and have an authoritarian society with a rigid class system. The class/caste is marked by the color of their scales. Blues are the rulers, Greens are the scientists and technicians, Reds are the laborers and soldiers, and Yellows may be juveniles or artists. The Blue Captain must revise his scheme after he meets scientist Dr. Lucy Stannis.

The first draft of The Lady is Blue was completed three decades ago with the working title of "What color are your scales?" Over the years, I made several attempts to type up the handwritten story in different word processors. Life intervened, with two sons, and moves from city to city up and down the eastern coast of the US. Early in 2014, I made a serious effort to put the story into digital form, edited and published the novel in May 2014.

Aurora Springer is a scientist morphing into a novelist. She has a PhD in molecular biophysics and discovers science facts in her day job. She has invented adventures in weird worlds for as long as she can remember. In 2014, Aurora achieved her life-long ambition to publish her stories. Her works are character-driven romances set in weird worlds described with a sprinkle of humor. Some of the stories were composed thirty years ago. She was born in the UK and lives in Atlanta with her husband, a dog and two cats to sit on the keyboard. Her hobbies, besides reading and writing, include outdoor activities like gardening, watching wildlife, hiking and canoeing.

Aurora has published science fiction romances in three series, two novellas and short stories. Her first series, Atrapako on Eden, describes the interactions of humans on the terraformed planet of Eden with scaled aliens from the hostile planet of Vkani. She has published two books in this series: The Lady is Blue and Dragons of Vkani. Her second series about psychics in space, Grand Master's Trilogy comprising: Grand Master's Pawn, Grand Master's Game, and Grand Master's Mate. The third series, the Secret Supers, has alien-derived young superheroes on contemporary Earth. The first book is Super Starrella. Her standalone novellas are: A Tale of Two Colonies and Captured by the Hawk.

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# Made for Her by Jessica E. Subject

# About Made for Her

After terrorists murder the love of her life, Colonel Mikayla Jones trains squadron after squadron of the clones he brought to life, to take to the skies. When she discovers a young clone of her husband in her newest class, her world spins out of control. How can she command the look-a-like when she can't help but yearn for him to fill an ache in her heart?

Dare was created to be the best. As the first Daniel clone to leave Onatria labs, he needs to prove he is more than just a DNA copy. To do that, he must rely on the wife of the man who donated his genes. But when she refuses to train him, Dare faces discharge and returning to the labs. Can he convince Colonel Jones to finish his training and find a way into her bed? Or will long kept secrets unhinge the entire clone project?

# Excerpt of Made for Her

**Chapter One**

Captain Mikayla Jones opened the door and gazed up at the Skymaster II rocketing another group of pilots toward SFTC, the Space Flight Training Center. She'd been the instructor of most of the men and women on that flight and would come face to face with a new class on Monday morning. But she hadn't rushed to the door to bid the squad farewell. No, instead she stared at the four men in uniform standing before her. She recognized three of them from the base, knew they hadn't come with good news—they would never have arrived at her door together other than to inform her of a tragedy—but it was the fourth man dressed in black, his hands drumming a beat on his utility belt, who worried her the most. He wasn't military.

"May we come in?"

Lieutenant Colonel Madison's question yanked her back from her thoughts. "What is it? Tell me what happened."

The chaplain from the base stepped forward with a heavy nod. "Captain, it's best if we go in and sit down. Detective Krug of the Northwest Police Department has something to tell you."

She braced her hands on the door frame, afraid if she let them in, their bad news would be true.

"C'mon, Mikayla." Lieutenant Colonel Madison draped an arm across her shoulder and guided her into her home. He would be the only one to call her by her given name here, the only one who knew her well enough. "You need to sit down. It's about Daniel."

She stopped in her tracks, dread pooling in her stomach, but the chaplain, the detective, and his military police escort continued into her living room.

"This isn't funny. It's our anniversary. We're supposed to go out for dinner. He promised he'd be home. Whatever this surprise is that you're all involved in, I'm not impressed." Her voice hitched. "Go over to the lab and tell Daniel to come home."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Detective Krug said.

Her knees threatened to give out. "Why? He works just over there." She pointed in the direction of the military labs where her husband conducted experiments for the government, ones so top secret, Daniel couldn't even mention them in her presence.

"No, Mikayla," the colonel said. "He was contracted out to Onatria Labs."

She gasped. Her chest tightened. Had she misheard him? "The lab rumored to be involved in cloning? But that lab was blown up this morning."

She waited for one of them to tell her that her assumptions were wrong, that Daniel was okay, but they all stared at her, their eyes solemn. _No, it can't be true._

"The Natural Lifes have already claimed responsibility for the bombing," Detective Krug said.

Drawing in a deep breath, she willed her body to stop shaking. Captain Jones could not break down, not when cadets depended on her every day to train them for flight. "Where is my husband? Which hospital is he at?" She couldn't stand still. She had to get to Daniel, to take care of him. Their anniversary dinner no longer mattered, but she had to be with her husband.

"Mikayla, I'm so sorry." The colonel rested a hand on her shoulder. "But Daniel didn't survive."

She stepped back, grasping for something to hang on to. A tear slid down her cheek, but she wiped it away. Her husband had to come home. Yet, her heart had already broken, processed the news before her mind. Grasping the back of a chair, she turned to the detective. "You have to be wrong. He can't be dead. He can't. It's our anniversary. How do you know it was him, huh?"

"We read his military ID chip. I'm sorry, but there's no mistaking his identity."

"No!" She was no longer Captain Jones. She melted back to Mikayla, wife to Daniel Jones. And she let go, falling to the floor. Terrorists had stolen her husband from her. She was alone. Forever. All of their hopes and dreams, gone. Her chance at having a family, no more. She had nothing to live for.

Madison knelt beside her and rubbed her back. "I'm very sorry."

But she turned away from him. "Leave me, please." She wrapped her arms around her knees and wept for her husband.

_T en years later_

Colonel Jones grabbed the remote before focusing on the three-dimensional holographic picture beside her. Another presentation for the general public, but she doubted it would work to recruit anyone. The audience was always more curious than willing to enlist.

"In 2084, as you know, Earth made first contact with the Rafkels, a peaceful species living on the planet Raf, located twenty light-years from Earth." She pressed the button to show her spectators an image of the still-foreign planet. "While meeting this species remains years away, their message warned us of other intelligent life forms in our own galaxy."

Mikayla rolled her eyes. The actual message had not been a warning, rather a fact, but the government insisted on changing the wording to garner more recruits and support for cloning. "Since then, world governments have combined efforts to develop a spacecraft that will take us faster and farther into space.

"If you join the military today, you will learn how to fly these vessels and train the clones for future wars. Science fiction has now become our reality." Yeah, like that would work to recruit people. Who wrote the speech, anyway? Very few, if any, would ever make it to the SFTC, Space Flight Training Center. "It will never be your life on the line, but that of men and women created only for that purpose. Serving your country is no longer about sacrifice, but about honor."

She cringed at the bullshit words. People still died all the time. Terrorists, like the ones who'd killed Daniel, still objected to cloning, causing destruction and death. Just last month, a popular off-base nightclub, known to be a military hang-out, had been turned to rubble in a matter of seconds after a suicide bomber with known allegiance to the Al-Tidoa group blew himself up inside the building. Many, both clone and human-born, had died.

When Mikayla switched the display to the live feed from Onatria's main lab in Geneva, she sighed at the collective gasp. Robotic arms transferred material between Petri dishes at various stations while other, more complex equipment dissected strands of DNA. Human-born and clones alike wore white lab coats and watched new life grow under their microscopes. And in a glass-walled clean room, casket-like clear chambers held young clones attached to a multitude of tubes. Except for the military and Onatria staff, this was the first time anyone had seen the labs. The government had grown desperate for people to enlist.

Clones, fully incubated at one year, resembled a teenaged human-born and lived better than most of the people there to watch the presentation. That was, until the clones left the labs four years later. Then they became nothing more than a possession of the military, a weapon trained for combat. And none, as of yet, had developed long enough to resemble an officer her age. They were killed in battle or by terror attacks before they had the chance to live a long life.

At the end of her presentation, she slipped out of the hall, unwilling to answer questions from the audience. The junior officers could handle them. She refused to listen to the public refer to the clones as slugs. Daniel had died bringing them to life and she couldn't have his work, his creations, insulted in front of her. Sure, they weren't born the same way as her, but they were still people, and she had a new squadron of clones waiting for her on the tarmac.

They wouldn't fly today. Instead, they'd head to the classroom for theory. With their basic training already completed, they were sent to her to become pilots. But her job involved more than training. She had to weed out the clone cadets who were better suited to a civilian position, and keep those who took their assignment seriously.

As she approached them, they stood at attention and saluted her, but all wore the same cocky smile. She gave them her infamous glare to wipe away their grins, even though she knew every one of them deserved to be arrogant. They were, after all, created and genetically modified to be the best.

Colonel Jones eyed each one of her new cadets, examining the neatness of their uniforms, while inspecting for signs of stress or over-anxiousness. She'd never seen the telltale muscle twitches or sweats in any previous clones, only in human-borns, but she had to look for them anyway.

The first generation of clones didn't live long enough to become cadets. Their hearts had given out within a year after incubation. But the scientists at Onatria had plowed on, utilizing more of Daniel's research, speeding up the aging process with hormones to create the perfect generation she saw before her.

She'd had female clones in previous squadrons, but the government filled the one in front of her with testosterone-driven masculinity. If she'd been younger, she'd have a hard time concentrating. But her days of crushes and fantasies were long over. She was devoted to serving her country and planet, and nothing else.

That didn't stop her from going out on the town for a stress-relieving fuck from time to time. But these young men in front of her appeared so virile, sure to last longer than any of her previous sexual partners.

No. As junior officers, and more importantly, as clones, they were off limits.

Inspecting them gave her the opportunity to check out more than their fatigues and tics, but if they knew her thoughts, they'd walk all over her. She'd be done.

They were of varying nationalities, builds, and heights, all fit to serve the planet. None of the cadets revealed any indication he would put the lives of others in jeopardy. It would be an easy squadron, every one of them ready to fly in a matter of weeks.

She reached the last cadet and froze. Her stomach clenched. _No, they couldn't have!_

She pivoted on her heel and rushed off the tarmac, leaving the squad without an instructor.

"How dare you!" She shouldn't have barged into General Madison's office, but Mikayla didn't care. The military had crossed a very personal line. One she could never forgive.

Her commanding officer rose from his desk, his hands raised in the air. "I beg your pardon, Colonel. Remember who you are speaking to."

She slammed the door. "I can't believe you let them clone Daniel and then send him to me to train. I had no problem training them when I didn't know who they were made from, but this is just...wrong. Daniel never gave permission."

He stepped out from behind his desk, lowering his arms. "I can see how intimate this situation is to you."

She glared at him. "Oh, really?" The only way to get more personal was if they'd created a clone of herself, and she would never allow that.

"Sit down. You need to be quiet and listen, or I will have you escorted out of my office."

Mikayla plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of the general's desk. She gripped the arms, holding in her anger, though she still had so much of her mind to tell him.

The general sat back down. "Just so you know, Daniel did grant permission to be cloned when he was first contracted to Onatria."

She shook her head, unable to believe the man's words. Daniel would have told her if he'd agreed to something so significant.

"He actually created D1, before cloning became legalized. He used his own DNA."

"No." Was everything she knew about Daniel a complete lie?

"Yes. He didn't want you to know because the survival rate of the clones in the beginning was less than one percent. Now, ninety-nine percent will go on to serve our government."

"But Daniel's been dead for years. Why did you suddenly decide to clone him again?"

General Madison wiped a hand across his face. "Mikayla, the clone in your squadron is the thirty-second clone made with Daniel's DNA. He's D32."

"And you've kept them from me all along?" She dug her fingers into the leather. How had she never found out? "What happened to the rest?"

"The early ones didn't survive. Those that lived stayed in the labs to help Onatria create better and better clones."

The information left her mind spinning, and she struggled to breathe. "So why is this one out of the lab and in my squadron? Why couldn't he be trained by someone else, somewhere else?"

General Madison smiled, and she had a feeling she wasn't going to like his answer. "Because he wanted to be trained by the best. You are our best instructor and have turned out our best pilots. Why would we send him anywhere else?"

Oh, he thought he'd sweet-talk her into compliance, like he always did when he wanted something. But not this time. Mikayla had her own agenda now that she knew the truth. She stood up, resting her hands on his desk. "I'm going to the labs in Geneva to see the rest of Daniel's kids...brothers...uh, whatever they are."

"Colonel Jones, you will do no such thing." His tone grew sharp. "You have a squadron depending on you."

She couldn't hide her rebellious grin. She'd been kept in the dark too long. "I am going and I'll hijack a plane if I have to." Although she'd always turned down the opportunities to tour the labs, Daniel's research now affected her directly. She had to find out more, needed to see the labs for herself.

He sprang to his feet, his chair scraping the floor behind him. "I will be leaving for Geneva in two days. You can wait until then."

His nostrils flared, and she didn't consider defying him.

"Dismissed."

Marching from the office, she returned to her quarters to pack for her upcoming trip.

He'd expected a reaction from her, but he didn't think she'd walk away when she saw him. What came as a complete surprise, however, was his body's reaction to her. He'd seen pictures of his donor's wife, but hadn't expected the urge to jump her bones right there on the tarmac.

D32, or Dare, as the other clones called him, was the first "Daniel" clone to be released from the labs and survive basic training. But he'd felt different from the others he'd interacted with on a daily basis. Always had. He yearned to get out and see the world he'd been created to protect, rather than be cooped up in the labs. And as soon as he'd proved mature enough, he'd asked to enlist in basic training. Some of his squadron hadn't been strong enough and were sent back for reassignment. But for Dare, it had come too easily. He'd pushed his body to its limits time and time again. And after completing basic, he wanted to fly. That's why they'd all been created in the first place: to protect the space tourists and fight for the planet if the need ever presented itself. He answered the call.

He'd been told his instructor, Colonel Jones, was the wife of the man whose DNA had been used to create him. At first, he thought training under her was a bad idea, but so many pilots told him she was the best. She would teach him everything he needed to know, thus making him the best. And who didn't want that designation? Even clones needed to prove themselves.

"Oh look, fresh meat."

Every one of them turned toward the gruff, condescending voice.

"I am Major Thompson, but you can call me "sir," as in "yes, sir." I will be your flight instructor now."

Bile rose from Dare's stomach, burning his throat. Where had he come from? Colonel Jones hadn't left more than ten minutes ago.

"I know you slugs have all completed basic training, but that was a walk in the park compared to what I'm going to put you through." The major's chiseled face revealed a slight grin, mocking them. "When I'm done with you, you'll wish those bastards at Onatria had smashed your Petri dishes before your cells began to divide."

If Colonel Jones was the best, this man wasn't. He was Dare's worst nightmare. With clenched fists, he vowed to find a way to get Colonel Jones back. _I have to be the best._

While this is a standalone story, I do have another clone story plotted. And right now, I'm very involved in a new sci-fi romance series, _Galactic Defenders_. The first one, _Bryce_ , released earlier this summer, and the next two, _Jager_ and _Jace_ will release in 2017, with more to follow.

Jessica E. Subject is the author of science fiction romance, mostly alien romances, ranging from sweet to super hot. Sometimes she dabbles in paranormal and contemporary as well, bringing to life a wide variety of characters. In her stories, you could not only meet a sexy alien or two, but also clones and androids. You may be transported to a dystopian world where rebels are fighting to live and love, or to another planet for a romantic rendezvous.

When Jessica isn't reading, writing, or doing dreaded housework, she likes to get out and walk with her giant, hairy dog her family adopted from the local animal shelter.

Jessica lives in Ontario, Canada with her husband and two energetic children. And she loves to hear from her readers. You can find her at jessicasubject.com and on twitter @jsubject.

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Now that the fun is over (for this volume), we hope you enjoyed these samples! If you're craving more adventure, you'll be happy to know there will be more Portals volumes to come! To keep updated on Portal releases and the latest in science fiction romance releases, sign up for our newsletter!

# Need More SFR? Check These Sites!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this volume of Portals, a group venture encompassing excerpts from our science fiction stories which are all available for purchase right now.

The concept behind Project Portals was a way of not only show-casing members stories but also a way to demonstrate the amazing sub-genres and variety of the stories that come under the heading of science fiction romance.

From space opera to post-apocalyptic to soft sci fi romance to hard sci fi romance to action adventure to bio-genetics to military to dystopian to space colonization to alien invasion and many more, the exciting genre of science fiction romance covers it all. And because there are so many sub-genres, you don't have to be a science or tech enthusiast to discover a love of science fiction romance.

Explore the other Portals Volumes here:

One Two Three Four (Coming soon: Five Six Seven)

For lovers of this genre and for those who'd like to explore further, we've compiled details about where to find your new favorite reads and authors.

Visit these virtual stops in the SFR Galaxy of great reads:

SFR Brigade (comprised of over 800 authors of SFR!) Facebook Fan Page | Blog | Newsletter

Veronica Scott's USA Today HEA, weekly new releases in SF&F Romance post, and Amazing Stories Columns Archive

Did you know there is a quarterly magazine devoted to science fiction romance? The Sci-Fi Romance Quarterly is FREE to download.

You can chat on Facebook with your favorite authors on the Science Fiction Romance Facebook Group or in Portals Project.

Or chat with authors and other readers on Goodreads.

No list would be complete without mentioning the awesome:

SFR Station

_Your source for great science fiction romance_

SFR Station on Facebook

The SFR Station is a safe-port for lovers of science fiction romance books. It is a community of authors, bloggers, readers, fans, and publishing professionals dedicated to the genre of science fiction romance. All of the books listed on this site are published by independent authors, small-press or imprint publishers. They have been vetted for quality. Most books are under $5, some are free, and all are great reads! You will find books of all heat levels, from sweet to smoking hot. All love is equal at The Station, and they proudly support authors of LGBTQ, Menage and atypical romance. New books are added weekly. Be sure to join the mailing list for updates on events and giveaways!

And finally, don't forget to visit the authors' websites for more in-depth information about their series and stories.

All the best from the group venture, Project Portals.

# A Special Thank You

The Authors of the Portal Project would like to thank...

Fiona Jayde for steering our multi-author ship to our amazing covers. She is wise and wonderful.

...and...

The Blurb Queen, aka Cathryn Cade, for generously donating the summarizing blurb for this collection. It is not an easy job to write a blurb for one book, let alone summarize ten books into one blurb.

And all of us who have benefited from SFRB would like to note that none of this would have happened had not Laurie A. Green started the Science Fiction Romance Brigade six years ago, and provided a space for 800+ SFR lovers to band together and scheme, er, plan to take over the universe.

# About Science Fiction Romance Brigade

After the smashing success of the December 2009 SFR Holiday Blitz, a multi-blog Science Fiction Romance book giveaway organized by Heather Massey of The Galaxy Express blog, the idea of creating a dedicated SFR community was hatched.

* * *

On March 25th, 2010, the SFR Brigade was launched by Science Fiction Romance writer Laurie A. Green, and a charter group of fellow writers and authors including Sharon Lynn Fisher, Heather Massey, Donna S. Frelick, DL Jackson, Barbara Elsborg, and Arlene Webb. In just over four weeks, the membership exploded to nearly 100 members.

* * *

With a roster of 800+ members, it represents the collective voice of Science Fiction Romance authors, writers, bloggers, professionals and enthusiasts with a joint quest of promoting their favorite genre–Science Fiction Romance.

You can find the Brigade on Facebook and...

  *     @sfrbrigade

www.sfrcontests.blogspot.com/
