Showing posts with label Science Fiction Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Science Fiction Romance. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

NEW SFR RELEASE -- PEYTON 313 (Cyborg Series)





Worst epic fail of her scientific career? Falling for a cyborg she helped create.

Kyra Winters never meant for her cyber science discoveries to be used for evil, but that’s exactly what happened. Now returning Peyton 313’s humanity is the last chance she’ll ever have to atone. She can’t get back the lost decade, but she can change the present by restoring the cyborg who was once Marine Captain Peyton Elliot.

Certainly her grand plan for rectifying her mistakes didn’t include madly kissing the confused, passionate Marine when he begged her to. The same scientific mind that constructed the cyborg creator code now warned her not to let Peyton’s tempting offers of heaven cloud her rational decision making. Yet it’s difficult to resist the cyborg she’s restoring when he’s also the most intriguing man she’s ever known.

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EXCERPT

Satisfied by his fierce complaining, Kyra walked back to the chair and knelt at his feet again. She had thumb-printed the chair restraint locks so a light swipe across the sensor instantly opened them. After the ankle ones were removed, she removed the one across his chest. Lastly, she moved to his wrists, pausing as she met his questioning gaze. She had to tell him what she was feeling. The urge was too compelling and his gaze was too full of hope.

“Today you are more yourself than you’ve been in a long time, Captain Elliot. Since this may be the only nice conversation you and I are ever going to have, I want to thank you for your military service and all the amazing things you’ve done. I’ll even admit that you’re far more charming than your record indicated. In another time and another place, I might have been willing to play all kinds of flirty games with you. But this is definitely not that time or place. We are suspended between heaven and hell right now, and neither of us is an angel.”

“Sleep in the cage with me tonight and I’ll show you heaven, Doc. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a woman as much as I want you right now. Sorry if the speed of my interest offends your sensibilities. I’m listening to a little voice that keeps yelling inside me. It’s saying this may be my one and only chance to get you to see I’m more than just some super soldier machine in need of fixing.”

Kyra felt her lip tremble and bit it hard to make it stop before she answered. “I already know that about you. That’s why I’m doing this. Now don’t make me like you any more than I already do.”

“See? I knew you liked me,” Peyton bragged, wishing she’d come a lot closer. She smelled amazing.

Kyra wondered if Peyton’s desire for her was a lingering after-effect of all those years of Cyber Husband programming? He would have studied her file extensively because Norton would have made him do so. He would have learned all he could about her likes and dislikes. That’s how the program worked. She purposely hadn’t removed that chip because she needed him to like her at least a little for just a while longer.

Peyton stared at the woman’s disappointed face. She looked ready to cry and he couldn’t stand seeing her that way. “How about a kiss to test your theories about us, Doc? Just one. I need it and I think you need it too. You already admitted you weren’t married. Look—my wrists are still chained to the chair. What could one kiss hurt? Come on—what do you say?”

Kyra sighed. She was as exasperated with him as she was charmed by his pleading. Tomorrow Peyton Elliott was going to hate her. She was one hundred percent sure of it because it had been proven true twice already before him.

Tomorrow when Peyton Elliott knew the truth, he would hate his life and those who had consigned him to his living hell. Tomorrow the machine would be partially back and Peyton would not be this light-hearted, mostly human version of himself. He would be a new kind of redefined cyborg. While no one knew what that was going to be like—not even her—she would bet her retirement Peyton was still going to hate her after he integrated the present with his past.

“Please—one kiss, Doc. That’s all I’m asking,” Peyton whispered.

Kyra sighed loudly. “You’re a hard man to say no to and today I’m a sentimental fool. Close your eyes, Captain. I haven’t kissed a man in a long time. I can’t look at you or I’ll lose my nerve.”

When Peyton sighed dramatically in return and leaned his head back, Kyra climbed on the electrical shield at the bottom of the operating chair until she was standing between his legs. Heat emanated from every inch of the man and he still smelled a little like burnt circuitry. Yet underneath that stark reality, Peyton also smelled masculine and very alluring.

Kyra sighed again. “I wish I could send you out the door to live whatever kind of life you want just as you are right now. That’s what you deserve, Captain Elliott. I want that badly for you, but I can’t make it happen. Your cybernetic enhancements require you to retain knowledge of how they work. Too much is at stake and the outcome of your healing affects more than just the two of us. But thank you for giving me a glimpse of why putting you through this hell is so important. This moment—it’s very humanizing for both of us—to want to be kissed and then be kissed. Thank you for sharing this moment with me.”

“Man, you sure talk a lot. Still waiting for that kiss, Doc,” Peyton said. He was keeping his eyes tight and his mind off how sexy she sounded when she got all philosophical.

Kyra snorted at his chastising. She touched her lips to Peyton’s and instantly found her bottom one nipped aggressively between two rows of even teeth. Moaning at the delicate trap he’d set for her, her body tipped forward against his and she had to catch herself on his wide shoulders. Her hands slipped over them and down his chest without her mind questioning the action.

When she moaned against his mouth, Peyton ordered himself to turn loose. After he did, he stared hard at the lip he’d bitten. The woman wanted him. He could taste it, smell it, and damn it he wanted her too. It was exhilarating to feel such pure desire flowing so freely through his cells.

A demand to sate that intense longing came from some desperate part of him that was both familiar and strange at the same time. What the hell was happening to him mind? It was both relieving and like finally waking up after being asleep for too long.

“Climb up here and give me a real kiss, Doc. And don’t be so damn stingy with sharing your tongue. I intend to use it to imagine what else I’m going to do when you cut me loose from this freaking chair.”

Groaning at how aroused he’d just made her with his sexy declaration, Kyra climbed into Peyton’s large lap to straddle him. It gave her better access to his mouth and the chance to indulge just a little more as she eased her hips down on him. She sighed at her nearly out-of-control feelings and touched her forehead to his.

“The only reason I’m doing this is because I know you’re going to take great pleasure in ridding yourself of this memory tomorrow. I won’t blame you for that action, Peyton. I think it’s the smartest thing you could do.”

“Stop whining about what hasn’t happened yet, Doc. It’s damn cruel to suggest this instant attraction between us is nothing. Now kiss me like you want to—and damn it I know you want to. I am a cyborg, you know.”

He ordered his processor to store the image of her face just as she caved into his demand and dipped her mouth to his. Her lips were lush and hot and wet, and her kiss was the most deliriously wonderful experience he could recall happening in ages. He watched her eyes close in pleasure as he strained towards her, but froze in the chair when he saw two tears run down her face. A second later, tears were flowing off her chin in two tiny, steady streams.

“What? What is it, Doc? What’s wrong with this? The attraction is mutual, isn’t it? We’re alone in here just the two of us. I’m wearing too many damn restraints to do much harm to you. Hell, keep the chair restraints in place woman—just be with me before I die from wanting you.”

“I can’t. I can’t take advantage of you, no matter what I’m feeling,” Kyra said, lifting her arm to swipe at her eyes. “Thank you for the sexy kiss, Captain. It’s been a very, very long time since I felt anything remotely close that level of desire for a man. Even if you wipe this away, I’ll never forget it—or you.”

Kyra slid reluctantly off his lap and straightened her clothing. “I’m going to release the last of the chair restraints now. Please keep your distance so I don’t have to use the controller. I’ve hurt you enough in the last couple of days.”

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Guest Author: HIS ALIEN VIRGIN by Jessica Subject

Want a spicy weekend read? It is my pleasure today to feature Jessica Subject's new title which will be releasing on Friday. She also wanted me to share that Satin Sheets in Space is on sale right now for .99 cents.

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She is desperately seeking freedom...

On the eve before her twenty-first birthday, Skylar steals a ship and escapes from the planet Rebed. She refuses to be another wife for the slimy space pirate that is her betrothed. After hearing of her brothers’ success, she applies to the 1Night Stand service on her way to Earth, hoping Madame Eve can find her a hero, to make her feel special, even if for only one night.

He is trying to fit in...

A longtime friend to Skylar’s brothers, he’s always relegated her to the look and don’t touch category. Though, Daran traveled to Earth years ago, he still struggles to fit in on the planet. When his boss suggests a blind date, he reluctantly agrees. What would happen if anyone found out about his alien ancestry?

And they are not at all meant to be together...

Has Madame Eve made a huge mistake, or will Daran tread into forbidden territory to be with the one woman he’s always wanted, and become the hero Skylar craves?
Available from

EXCERPT
His evening was supposed to be fun and exciting. Not filled with the worry of his companion learning of his extraterrestrial origins, or of her outing him to the world. He’d kept his hair short, to hide the feathers that grew in when his locks reached a certain length. And, each morning, he covered his exposed skin with waterproof foundation to conceal the blue tinge of his skin. But, as soon as he removed his clothing later in the night, his façade would end. He wouldn’t be able to hide his differences. Unless we stay in this part of the hotel all night. The dim lighting would make his skin color less obvious.
Perfect! He stood, his muscles finally relaxing, the tension melting away. Circling the room, he blew out every third candle. Just to be sure. In the morning, his one-night lover would leave, never knowing she’d had sex with an alien.
Daran returned to his chair, leaning back, hands behind his head. Or, if he was really lucky, he’d find an Earth woman who considered extraterrestrials to be sexy.
The door to the observatory rattled and he jumped to his feet, brushing sweaty palms across his pants. Heart pounding, he glanced up at the sky. Gods, please let this evening work out.
With a burst of light, the door opened. A woman stepped through, her long, lean body hidden in shadows. Clutching his fingers behind his back, he waited for her to move closer, needing to see her better.
A strange tingling filled him. Not good. Something’s wrong. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. I should never have agreed to this. Trying to step back, he stumbled when the message didn’t reach his feet.
His date drew nearer, her appearance becoming more defined. A silver dress hugged her body, both protecting and giving a hint of the delicious treat inside. The candlelight reflected off her wide eyes, leaving them glowing like sapphires. With most of her hair pulled back, the remaining long blue tendrils framed her face and highlighted her matching lips. But her radiant, mesmerizing eyes sparked his recognition. He knew her. His stomach sank along with all hopes for the evening.
“Oh, f**k.”
Of all the women on Earth—hell, in the universe—for him to be set up with, Madame Eve had to pick the one lover he could never have.

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About the Author

Jessica lives in Ontario, Canada with her husband and two energetic children. And she loves to hear from her readers.

When Jessica isn't reading, writing, or doing dreaded housework, she likes to get out and walk. Fast. But she just may slow down if there is a waterfall nearby.

Jessica Subject is the author of contemporary and science fiction romance, ranging from sweet to erotica. In her stories, you could meet clones, or a sexy alien or two. You may even be transported to another planet for a romantic rendezvous. And if you’re looking for something really steamy, check out her erotica stories written as Paisley Brown.

You can find her at jessicasubject.com and on twitter @jsubject.


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Thursday, February 27, 2014

Guest Author: SETH by Eve Langlais (BK 5 Cyborgs)

All paranormal writers are readers of the genre in one form or another. I especially love science fiction and this series about Cyborgs is one of my favorites. It is my pleasure today to feature the newest release from Eve Langlais which I have already devoured. This one starts delving into the mystery of their creation. I love where this series is going. Thank you, Eve! ~ DM

Book 5 of Cyborgs: More than Machines

Cybernetic spy models are different from other humans turned machine. For one thing, they never completely lost touch with their humanity, or their memories. But retaining their identity doesn’t mean the military didn’t mess with their lives.

Seth lost the woman he loved because of their web of lies. When the chance arises to make things right, he relies on his superior intellect—and irresistible charm—to prove his innocence, and make Anastasia his again.

Anastasia might possess upgraded parts and programming, but the scientists never could cure her of her biggest weakness, jealousy. The volatile emotion made her walk away from love once.

Can she overcome it and recognize the truth? Or will she continue to let the military manipulate her emotional strings?

Click here for purchase links (take you to Eve's web page for SETH).

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Guest Author: HER CYBORG AWAKES by Melisse Aires

BOOK 1 of the DIASPORA Series

Sabralia lives a lonely but luxurious life in Emperor Sirn’s Harem. Her only companion is her obedient servant, Qy, a cyborg. Her life has largely been controlled by others, but when Sirn demands his Harem pleasure his Commanding Officers at a victory celebration, Sabralia makes a daring plan to hide to avoid rape by Sirn's men.

The Palace is ambushed and her cyborg gets her off world. The impossible has happened−Qy the gentle cyborg becomes the man he once was, the warrior Kaistril. Pursued for valuable information, Sabralia is thrust into dangerous, unfamiliar situations where she must stand up to the challenges, or lose the man she loves.

Download now for free

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Win An Audiobook of The Demon Master's Wife


Here's another giveaway this month. This one is for my latest audiobook release. My narrator did a fantastic job with all the voices. Book 3 is under contract and I'm very excited for that one too.

Here's the Audible link so you can listen to a sample of TDMW

Enter below for a chance to win. Happy listening!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Monday, November 4, 2013

Excerpt from THE DEMON'S CHANGE

I put out a draft of this content last December when I had barely begun the story. Now that I'm 63k words into the book, well let's say that the first chapter has changed a bit.

So here's an updated reissue of the opening chapter. Enjoy. Thanks for your patience this year. I loved all the conferences, but it feels very, very good to be back to writing every day.

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CHAPTER 1

Plagued by urges he didn’t understand, Malachi hadn’t been able to stop himself from checking on her multiple times a day. He had currently tracked his quarry to the Liberator’s meditation room, one of her favorite places to hide. Leaving his host body in his quarters allowed him to spy discreetly. He let his mist form seep around the door edges until all his energy was inside the sacred space.

Near the front, the sniffling Ethosian knelt in the middle of a meditation rug. Her penitent posture always frustrated him. Since Kefira had left the ship, the Ethosian female constantly wandered the halls feeling a despair as great as a linked demon with no host body. Most of the time her spirit’s energy floated above her physical form in the same way most creatures used depressed states to escape their corporeal lives. But in Rena Trax’s case, he could tell she actively sought the disconnection.

Rising higher, he floated all the way to the ceiling, ignoring the symbols there that were meant to ward off all manner of wickedness. Dorian Zade’s energy in the room was strong, but he no longer feared the power of the Siren’s spirituality. If anything, he had developed a great admiration. Zade was a fellow male who had willingly suffered a long-term, unnatural celibate state for the sake of a higher purpose. It was a unhappy fate and one he was currently suffering himself.

Though given tentative permission to indulge his physical urges if it pleased him and some willing female to do so, he hadn’t so far been able to exercise the freedom. Oh, there were enough accommodating females on the ship, if novelty was all he sought. He couldn’t yet imagine how pleasant it would be to enjoy his host body’s reactions to bonding without having to share the pleasure with its original owner.

Satisfying that curiosity did pass through his thoughts now and again, but only long enough to be discarded as not worth the trouble. He was currently abstaining from bonding relationships because he wished to avoid any complications that would cause yet more strife between Liam and Ania.

His master and quite unique female host had enough challenges to handle at the moment. Plus it would not be received well if he took advantage of all those grateful females they rescued from Lotharius, especially when yet another Siren, their newest crew member was practicing celibacy as well and turning them down.

The former Captain Ji Warro, now Lieutenant Warro on the Liberator, used stimulation videos for self-gratification while he dreamed of bonding with the unsuspecting Lieutenant Seta Trax. The Ethosian sibling Warro preferred had, rather remarkably, resumed her ship duties within a day of Kefira merging her completely with the Demon Zorinda. Kefira’s ability to do that even with the emissary’s help was yet another mystery he hadn’t solved.

Unfortunately the Trax sibling he felt compelled to study had survived her physical form’s second brush with death much better than her first one. She seemed to get by quite as well as her military minded dual-birth sibling. The emissary who had initially saved Rena’s body had disappeared from it—or at least that appeared to be the case. She repeatedly refused to let him go inside her physical form to confirm, but his observations led him to believe it was a truth.

The very appealing Ethosian body that still caused desire in his host body was now filled with a subdued, thoroughly uninteresting spirit who indentified herself only as Rena Trax. She called him ‘demon’ in the same manner most beings did. There was fear and loathing in her voice, but morbid fascination in her gaze. She avoided him, and yet he could sense that she looked for him as well. She spent her days, and many of her sleep cycle hours, either in silent meditation in Zade’s sacred space or weeping heart-wrenching tears in any private place she could locate on their tiny ship.

And for reasons he could not fathom, he was compelled to keep a watchful eye on her. Obeying the internal command caused him no issue. He knew its source and in the almost two thousand years of his mist form, he had learned to comply without earning an admonishment. Perhaps his frustration simply stemmed from the fact that his mist form normally allowed him to be virtually omniscient. He simply wasn’t used to not knowing the full truth of any matter. Even Ania had learned a way to keep secrets from him, a trick none of the other hosts before her had managed.

And since his foray inside the mysterious Kefira to do her bidding, a tiny ember of blue light had taken root in the center of his true form. It was if the Creators had used the entity within Kefira to place another, even stronger tracking device in him. He’d been trying really hard to ignore the tiny pulsing with a rhythm like a heartbeat. He had yet to reveal it to Ania or Liam.

Actually, he had no plans to do so at all unless they managed to find out on their own.

Because of it, he was certainly in no hurry to interact with Kefira again. Who knew what she would do him next time?

“Come forth and speak if you must, demon. I feel you behind me,” Rena said.

Drifting down nearer the floor, Malachi shaped his mist into his original physical form, or at least what he considered it to be. After the many years of his existence as demon mist, he wasn’t quite sure his recall of his original physical body was even accurate anymore.

“Why do you weep today?” he demanded, but his insistence was hardly intimidating when the words sounded like a plea.

It irritated him that the clear voice he generated for Rena’s benefit caused his misty form to quiver. With barely a drain on his power, he could destroy and absorb the molecular structures of a battalion of warriors, but creating a resonance of understandable words always drained his energy quickly. He had long ago attributed it to the Creators having a strange sense of humor. In the beginning he had cursed them for it, but they had paid no attention to his complaining then, nor did they now.

He noted she bowed her head at the concern in his question. Though she owed him no explanation, her compassion was engaged, likely because of their shared dilemma.

“If you must know, today I remembered my death. Flashes of insight pierce the fog in my mind. I remember a light inside me that seemed to talk to me. Then I recall watching Seta lift a knife into the air. She coldly killed our Ethosian mate, or whatever you choose to call the male who purchased us from our father.”

“I would call him a male with good taste in females. Do you weep for his death then?” Malachi asked.

“May the Creators forgive me but . . . No.”

Her tone was adamant and she shook her head.

“I weep because the Creators sent my spirit back into this body and all its memories of abuse at his hands. What good comes from forcing me to recall that he traded use of my body for material goods? Seta was traded less, but that was because she always fought and had to be restrained. When the knife came down and ended his life, I felt nothing but profound relief. I found satisfaction in hearing him take his last breath.”

“A reasonable reaction,” Malachi said. “Hating evil does not make you less good.”

Rena frowned as she stared at the gray walls in the room. She could feel the demon’s compassion reaching out to her . . . and his anger over what she and Seta had suffered. It crossed her mind that such a powerful being might be used as instrument to end her new torture. The demon could quite easily obliterate the body that now housed her like a prison. Like the emissaries, he had the power to set her energy form free once more.

“You say you serve the Creators of All. Why would they force me to endure this limited life again?” Rena asked.

Malachi’s form wavered. Her hurt-filled past could not be changed. She was here, whoever she was inside her form. And the males that had hurt her and Seta were out of his reach and beyond his retribution. He too found himself pondering why she was having to go through all the pain of remembering when nothing could be done.

“Joke?” he offered as an answer, perhaps also as a distraction from her distress. The still wet-eyed female turned a tortured gaze from the meditation mat to him.

“I do not find it funny if that is the case,” she said.

“I did not say it was a good joke,” he replied, not missing her brief snort of humorless laughter. Disbelief was often fodder for humor—dark humor—but humor nevertheless.

Rena smiled tightly at the demon’s strange attempt to cheer her. “Why do you pursue me each day? I am not the one you seek.”

“Let me check for sure,” Malachi suggested. “I swear by the Creators that I can help you forget your vile Ethosian mate.”

“Your sympathy for my trials is appreciated, but I bow to the Creator’s higher purpose in my suffering,” Rena answered, lifting her chin.

“We all bow to them, but I see no higher purpose in what you are enduring,” Malachi said.

Rena bowed her head to the mist. They were at least of like minds about that.

“I appreciate your compassion for me, Demon of Synar. For both our sakes, I wish your emissary was still here instead of me. Her energy has left its mark in this body, making me miss my own energy form even more. Yet I am also ashamed of not handling this trial well. I can not find peace with such contradictory feelings.”

“There is no need. Nothing happening is your fault. This is a profound truth,” Malachi declared, streaking out and leaving Rena looking after him, likely wondering what he meant.

Of the two of them, perhaps he was the strange one. He happily embraced Conor’s physical body and the chance to participate in real corporeality instead of just affecting it energetically. Equally odd was the fact that both the emissary and the real Rena Trax hated the exact situation he had come to think of partial redemption.

No sooner was he back in his current host body than the com unit on the wall of his quarters blinked. He rose to press one long finger on it, admiring his masculine arm and hand. He had been working out diligently to increase the muscle dimension of his form. Conor Synar had been a handsome enough male of his kind, but rather on the thin side. He was exceedingly glad Liam had not given in to his grief and destroyed his brother’s empty shell. It was very pleasant to exist alone in the elder Synar sibling’s form.

“Malachi here,” he answered.

Chiang’s animated, irritated voice came booming over the line, the Greggor’s energy sharp and as cutting as any laser knife the healer often used. “Where in Helios have you been? I need you in Medical. Come at once.”

Malachi sneered when Chiang cut the connection before he had even been able to answer back. Rolling his eyes at the Greggor’s dramatics, he followed the action with a laugh about the mannerism nearly every officer on the ship had adopted. It was one favored by their volatile Earthling Commander when she was moved to show her condescension.

He strolled to Medical, deliberately taking his time. He wasn’t about to let the Greggor doctor start demanding his presence every time the least little crisis occurred. That’s what junior medics were for. Walking into Medical humming, Malachi’s mirth ended when he saw Ania strapped to a medical table and unconscious. On tables around her were assorted ensigns, Dorian Zade, and Gwen, all with various wounds. Liam also lay on another table letting a subdued Boca treat him.

Frozen in place, Malachi surveyed the damage, shocked that his master and his host could both have been harmed without his knowledge. His eyes flashed red as he took it all in. “What happened?”

Chiang shook his head, unable to vent in the face of the demon’s stunned disbelief. “Ania and Gwen were sparring. Gwen said there was a bright light in the room and then Ania seemed to lose her mind. Fortunately, Zade and Synar were nearby and heard Gwen yelling. It took all of them to restrain Ania from trying to kill Gwen. Zade had to knock her out.”

Malachi looked at Zade in surprise, clearing his throat of tightness before asking his question. “Lieutenant—do you know what’s wrong with Ania?”

“Her spirit was in so much turmoil I couldn’t tell. That’s why we needed you so urgently,” Dorian said. “Did you not feel anything when she did this?”

“Nothing. I felt nothing,” Malachi replied quietly, still unsure how that could ever have happened. “I was in mist form until moments ago.”

“It doesn’t matter. Find out what happened,” Gwen ordered, wincing as a senior medic tightened her arm bandage. “Ania almost broke my arm. Her eyes went red and then bright blue. She looked at me in shock, and then lost her freaking mind. That’s all I know.”

“Blue? Her eyes went blue?” Malachi repeated in alarm, already lifting from his body to head into Ania. Only he couldn’t get inside. There was a block. He tried all he knew, but something or someone was keeping him out. He had known only one type of being capable of overriding his will . . . but she had gone. Hadn’t she?

Returning to his body, Malachi moved his attention to the other table. “Liam? Can you talk to me?”

Synar opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Something is inside her.”

“The emissaries’ energy makes their eyes blaze blue,” Malachi said, not drawing any conclusions yet, but offering what he suspected. “I sincerely regret I wasn’t there to help.”

Synar shook his head, swallowing past the lump in his throat. His mate had tried to kill him. The intent had been in her gaze. Gwen had probably saved him by turning herself into the nearest target.

“I called, but you didn’t answer. Go inside Ania and see what you can find out. She tried to kill me. She tried to kill all of us.”

“I already tried to get insider her, Liam. I can’t get in. There’s an energy blocking my way,” Malachi admitted reluctantly, feeling his jaw harden and his gut clench. He had always hated failing and it rarely happened to him in demon mist form.

“What can we do then?” Synar asked, blinking up into eyes very much like his own. Sometimes—sometimes seeing the concern in the entity bending over him, he could almost pretend the demon truly was a member of his family. At least he knew, Malachi shared his compassion for Ania.

Malachi looked away. Compassion was indeed Liam’s greatest weakness, and his great concern for Ania could incapacitate him. He remembered the support Liam had offered him on Lotharius when he had feared for the emissary’s existence. He tried his best to return that compassion now, even though he didn’t completely understand it. “I think we need to keep Ania’s physical body from being able to act. The entity might leave her when it realizes Ania’s form isn’t able to be used.”

“What about everyone else on the ship?” Synar asked. “Ania’s skills exceed even Dorian’s. I saw that for myself today. I can’t let Ania hurt anyone.”

“No you can’t. But I don’t know what else to do if I can’t get into her to find out what’s going on.” Malachi paused, then got an idea. “Rena Trax once hosted an emissary of the Creators. We can ask her. I also suggest we contact Kefira to see if she left a shiny, self-righteous being behind when she vacated our ship.”

Synar nodded and reached out a hand to let Malachi pull him up to a sitting position. “A part of me never believed Ania’s stories about her past. I definitely met the ruthless warrior in her today. Ania held off all of us. Finally, I surprised her and Dorian was able to subdue her. She screamed in rebellion, but crumpled to the floor anyway. I—I regret not taking her more seriously now.”

“Yes—I discovered what she was like over those two years we were alone together. I dampened that side of her while two years we were alone. Liam, this is bad timing, but there’s something else you don’t know about your very unique mate,” Malachi said, wishing he had confided in Liam when he first felt their stirrings. “I don’t think Ania even knows this yet, but she carries your children. There are two faint life signs within her. They are fairly new. I’ve been watching over them.”

“Children? We created children together?” Synar declared in amazement, his gaze swinging to the female on the table.

Malachi nodded. “Yes. I felt those two other energies within her for a while, but they were faint and just beginning. Since she was not yet ready to deal with the reality, out of loyalty to her, I said nothing to either of you. Perhaps I did wrong in hoping their existence would unfold in a more joyful manner.”

Synar was shaking his head, almost unable to take it in. “No, you were doing the right thing. Ania continues to claim that she is not ready to start a family. I just wish . . . ”

He looked across the tables to see Gwen and Dorian staring at him in sympathy.

With no other recourse, his gaze swung to Chiang. “Would it hurt the gestation process to put Ania in stasis?”

Chiang nodded. “Yes. She would be fine, but it would put the children at risk to halt their growth. I don’t recommend it.”

“Sedation then?” Synar suggested.

“It’s a better option than stasis. Are you thinking simple restraints and sedatives won’t work?” Chiang asked.

“No. I can tell you for certain that simple restraints won’t work,” Dorian said sharply, his gaze jumping between the two concerned males. “Even complicated restraints would not hold her long. Ania can escape anything. She is not just Khalsa . . . she is the highest master of their skills. No one else has her level of training. I didn’t get that far myself.”

“Can she escape the trance state you put her in?” Synar asked.

Dorian nodded sadly. “Yes. She is the only warrior I ever knew who could. Even now, I feel her fighting the hold I have on her. Anger rules her energy at the moment while she fights what is within her. When she remembers to cease her struggles, she will release herself from my hold.”

Synar swallowed hard as he looked at Ania’s restrained form once more. Then he looked again at the best of his crew which his mate had almost defeated without any help. He couldn’t let his compassion for Ania keep him from his greater obligations to protect everyone else. Hopefully, his mate would one day forgive him for yet another time he had to choose the ship’s welfare over hers.

“Call the Paladin, Chiang. They’re still within hailing distance. See if they have some of the sedative her captors gave her on Terris Rein. We know that will keep her under for at least a few days. Maybe we can figure out what the Helios is going on in the meantime.”

“I don’t know what kind of long-term effect the sedative will have on her or the children,” Chiang warned.

“Doesn’t matter. Seems there’s no other choice,” Synar said sadly, sliding off the table to the floor. “Gwen, call Warro. Bring him up to speed and tell him he has the bridge tonight. Then you and Dorian go get some rest. You need to heal quickly. You’ll both be on the bridge for the duration of our trip to pick up the Guardian 13.”

“Maybe the weepy, creepy Trax sister can tell us something about what happened,” Gwen said, flexing her sore arm as she slid from the medical table. It was bad, but the compression bandage helped. “I don’t buy Rena’s story about coming back from the dead. I got a feeling there’s more going on with her than we are seeing. She may just be some whacko mental case.”

“I agree there is much we don’t know about Rena’s situation. That’s exactly why Malachi and I are going to go have a little chat with both Trax siblings as soon as I can arrange it,” Synar said, looking over his shoulder to see Malachi frowning down at Ania’s unconscious form. “Malachi, do whatever you feel you need to. I want this figured out.”

Malachi gaze raised to his master’s. Liam should know better than to give him free rein. “Be careful how much control you offer me, Liam. I would hate for you to have to put me in Zorinda’s amulet after all. Because if the emissaries are doing this, I’ll make sure they suffer for the pain they have caused her. I no longer fear what they will do to me. I saw Ania best one in a contest of wills.”

“I know how you feel, because I feel like that too. Ania attacked Gwen on reflex, which is second nature to her as I have just painfully learned. It’s possible that Ania had no idea what she was doing to Gwen or any of us. It’s also possible that the entity—emissary—or whatever the creature was that went into her, maybe have over-reacted to being in Ania as well. Or I could just be trying to think objectively so I don’t over-react myself,” Synar declared, blowing out a frustrated breath.

Malachi closed his eyes, nodded. “You are right on all those points and that us over-reacting will not help this situation. Calm thinking is required. Let’s begin with interrogating the Trax sisters until we are assured they have told us all they know.”

Monday, October 14, 2013

Her Cyborgs are Definitely More Than Machines

I met the mega-talented paranormal author, Eve Langlais, at IRC 2013 (Indie Romance Convention). I was a featured author there for my contemporary books, but also got to have several embarrassing fan girl moments talking to Eve about her cyborg series which is one of my absolute favorites of hers (though her tongue-in-check Furry United Colaition series is a close second).
OMG -- Eve Langlais
Donna gets cool finally.
 My ereader is full of Eve's books because I not only read them, I re-read them. The characters are hot, the books are well-written, and they always, always make me laugh. I am shamelessly including our photos together to show you how much fun I had. In one, I had just met her and was nearly squealing. The other shows my cool--I hope--LOL. 

And to all my fans. . .I totally get and love you dearly. Never, never doubt it.

Here's the scoop about her latest release:

Eve's Latest Release
BOOK 4 of the CYBORGS: MORE THAN MACHINES series

DESCRIPTION

Wiping out humanity is his number one objective—until he meets her. Aramus has no patience or sympathy for the excuses humanity uses to hunt cyborgs down and eradicate them. He’s put up with too much at their hands to ever forgive and forget. But all that changes when he rescues a fragile human doctor who sees him as more than a machine.

AmazonUS     Amazon US Print     AmazonUK    Kobo US

All Romance eBooks     Apple iBooks     Barnes and Noble    

Smashwords    Kobo Australia     Kobo Canada     Kobo UK
EXCERPT

He didn’t immediately look up when the door to his private chamber slid open, occupied with glancing over the last radar reports that showed no activity in the area. Then again, as they well knew, their technology wasn’t always reliable when it came to seeing what was truly out there.

“Um, hello?” Her hesitant query brought his gaze up and the sharp retort to quiet until he was ready, died on his lips as he beheld her.

What had happened to the dirty waif he’d rescued? The woman he’d saved stood before him, and he couldn’t help but stare. Her shoulder-length hair brown hair shone in the fluorescent lights, the ends uneven and curling slightly with dampness. Scrubbed clean, her skin exhibited an even creamy tone, except for her cheeks, which pinked as he continued to eyeball her. He couldn’t help himself, especially when he noted how the jumpsuit they’d given her hugged voluptuous curves not meant for the slim outfit, making the cleavage that strained at the front enclosure more pronounced. A lick of her full lips caused the most surprising chain reaction because, during that momentary peek of the tip of her tongue, he couldn’t help imagining sliding his mouth along those plump lips, sucking on them, and this vivid visualization caused him to harden in a most unforeseen manner.

Stand down. He ordered his cock to behave. And it did, mostly. Drumming his fingertips on his desk, he glared at her. Undaunted, she stared right back, her gaze flicking to the top of his head.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “You are a cyborg.”

For some reason her observation stung. “Of course I am. What else did you think I was?”

The coloration in her cheeks deepened. “I wasn’t sure. When you rescued me you had on a space suit so I couldn’t see your face, and it’s not as if you introduced yourself.”

Her well-reasoned answer still didn’t ease the sting at the way she’d reacted to the discovery of what he was. Then again, what did he care what one human thought? “I did not realize that introductions were necessary. Perhaps the next time I save your ass I should wear a sign saying, I am a cyborg.”

“There’s no reason to be rude.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I didn’t know cyborgs could do that.”

“Do what? Wield the English language?”

“No, make jests.”

Sarcasm wasn’t making fun. It was a way of expressing himself. “I do not joke.”

“If you say so. What happened to your head?”

Blunt, but as a male who didn’t like to pussyfoot, he couldn’t disparage her directness. He could however fuck with her. “It’s partially metal.”

“I can see that, but why? I’ve seen cyborgs before, not in person of course, but on the newsfeeds, and while some have sported mechanical legs and arms, I’ve never seen one with a—”

“Metal skull? It was a present from a woman.” His first meeting with a female cyborg did not go well. She’d shot him, obeying a buried command given to her by the military. Lucky for him, she had bad aim—or as Seth claimed, he’d used up the horseshoe stored in his ass—and he’d survived. Half of his head didn’t. He rather preferred his new bald pate and metallic crown. He felt it enhanced his cyborg appearance. And gave him better reception.

The female’s eyes widened. “Someone shot you in the head?”

She seemed genuinely appalled. As if a mere human cared. He didn’t believe her act for a moment.
“Among other places. I’ve also been shot in the torso, back, arms, legs. Most didn’t leave lasting scars, as my nanos healed the damage.”

“You sound so nonchalant about it.”

“Because it’s a fact of life for cyborgs. It’s why we were created. To take as much damage as possible and still keep fighting.” Him, bitter? Always.

“Did they hurt?” Again, her concern and curiosity seemed authentic.

“Only the first few times. Then you learn to shut off the pain and move faster.” Not to mention improve your aim so that the bastards shooting died before they did something irreparable. Cyborgs could sustain a lot of damage, but nanotechnology could only heal so much. And why exactly was he answering her questions anyway? He was the one in charge here, not her. He was the one who needed answers—not pity. “As if you give a shit. You can stop pretending.”

“Who says I’m pretending? You were shot. Numerous times by your account. I’d have to be inhuman not to feel something.”

“Or cyborg.”

“So it’s true what they say? You don’t feel emotions?”

“Oh, we feel. Right now, I feel annoyed, violent, and a tad bit hungry. Military rations really aren’t fit for anyone.”

********************************************************

Eve Langlais at IRC in Lebanon, TN
About the Author

Hello, my name is Eve. I'm a crazy Canadian mom who works full time as an author. In between juggling my three kids, hubby, and housework, I write steamy romance--usually with werewolves, cyborgs or aliens lol.

I love to write, and while I don't always know what my mind is going to come up with next, I can promise it will be fun, probably humorous and most of all romantic, because I love a HEA.

Thanks so much for coming by and checking me out. If you'd like to know more, read some excerpts or find out what's coming next, then please visit me at www.EveLanglais.com

Happy reading!

Eve Langlais

Web: http://www.evelanglais.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/eve.langlais.98
Twitter: https://twitter.com/EveLanglais
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/3431194.Eve_Langlais

Friday, June 15, 2012

Excerpt from THE SIREN'S CALL

This book will be released sometime next week. The contest to name the ship ends on Sunday, June 17. In the meantime, here is Chapter 1 for those of you who are looking forward to the next adventure.

*********************************************************

CHAPTER 1

“Did you let me do that?” Gwen demanded, glaring down at the woman splayed out on the mat at her feet.

“We’ve been fighting for weeks. Have I not thrown you down enough for you to know I would never willing let you best me?” Ania demanded back, reaching up a hand. “Stop glaring and help me up.”

Gwen snorted, still unable to believe she’d truly put the new and now more robust version of Ania down. She yanked the female to her feet, barely exerting any effort. Her strength was growing, and it wasn’t just her imagination, Gwen decided. Getting stronger was just one of many changes she discovered happening to her body since the mating cord to Dorian had been completed.

“You know damn well I’m not that good yet. If you didn’t let me toss your ass, then how the hell did it happen?” Gwen demanded. Her promise to talk more respectfully to her trainer, teacher, and friend was temporarily forgotten in her struggle to understand her new skills.

“I’m not quite sure,” Ania replied calmly, retrieving her fighting stick and leaning on it. “You were in some kind of zone that I couldn’t penetrate. It was much like the way Dorian fights. Perhaps he gave that to you with your mating. Sirens share all they are with their chosen mates, though I have never seen it take this form.”

Gwen shrugged. “It was like I saw everything you were going to do in my head. One minute I was contemplating whether or not to trust what I was sensing, and the next—you were on the mat. Hell, I didn’t even know I had moved until I saw you at my feet.”

“What you did in besting me was most impressive for a Khalsa warrior with your limited training,” Ania praised, bowing her head. “Do you think your intuition is growing as well?”

“Yes. It’s just one more thing you were right about I guess. Though it’s more like I’m reading minds than predicting the future like Zade and Synar do,” Gwen said, seeing Jurek walk through the door and give Ania an assessing look, which Ania missed with her back turned.

“I still don’t see the benefit of intuition. For example, I certainly don’t need to read my old trainer’s mind to know Jurek has a crush on you. And frankly, I’d just as soon not see what form he wishes that admiration could take. Sheesh—he needs a female,” Gwen said, tossing her fighting stick from hand to hand for something to do. She had a hard time being still lately and was reading minds a lot more than she was comfortable admitting.

Ania laughed, unaffected by the passing desires of other males for her. Jurek was a fine male, but there was only one in her life that counted, a fact she was grateful for because he was enough of a distraction. Her mate, Captain Liam Synar, had been talking about having children for the last two days, and she couldn’t get him to cease his dreaming of her carrying his child.

He had already made her confess that she had dreamed of their children when they were still new to each other. But Ania hadn’t yet figured out how to tell her mate that dream had died completely after Malachi had informed her they would be demon babies too. It was bad enough she shared a demon’s fate. The last thing she wanted was to force it on innocent children.

“Odd that you are able to read Jurek so well. I would say that in addition to your enhanced fighting skills, you have also acquired Dorian’s ability to read personal energy. Combined with what you already biologically inherited from your Thelorian father, your intuitive skills should be more than equal to Synar’s now,” Ania said, nodding in approval. “Of course, learning to control those abilities and exercise sound judgment on what they provide will still prove a great challenge for the irrational Earthling you mostly still are.”

Gwen settled for a glare. Ignoring Ania’s teasing to focus on the bigger picture was becoming second nature. Her Khalsa trainer was teaching her to keep her mind calm even when her emotions got out of control. It was more than being calm under pressure. It was the ability to calm herself when she wanted to be calm—something she’d thought she’d mastered until she took on a Siren and ended up bound to him.

“This mating deal with Zade just keeps getting worse,” Gwen complained. “I got married to an invisible groom who made me perceptive to other people’s sexual needs when I’m personally unable to do anything except wish for him. Not a very good wedding gift if you ask me. I like being physically stronger, but Zade could have kept the voyeurism stuff to himself.”

“The Creators sometimes use circumstances like your unusual mating to bestow what they wish a being to have as gifts. I doubt Dorian had that much control over what you received,” Ania said with a shrug, not needing to be schooled in Earth mating customs to hear the disappointment in Gwen’s voice.

“Are you telling me you believe your deities are partly responsible for the Klageldon dung I’m going through?” Gwen asked, rolling her eyes at how ridiculous it sounded to her. “Why? Do they hate me?”

“It took Dorian three years of training to put me on the mat. You managed to do it less than a week after your Siren mating cord was completed. Doesn’t that make you feel better about some of your new skills?”

Gwen laughed but finally nodded. “Yes. I suppose being capable of putting a real Khalsa warrior on the mat makes up for the rest of it a little.”

“Good to hear. Of course I was a lot younger when I trained Dorian. Maybe after several hundred years I’ve slowed down enough to be bested by an Earthling,” Ania said, grinning at the flash of irritation in Gwen’s eyes. “Perhaps I should even be ashamed.”

Ania saw the punch in the arm coming but figured she deserved it when it landed harder than she’d anticipated. Laughing, she danced away from Gwen to rub the mock wound. The young warrior definitely was getting stronger. She hit like a man lately.

“You just had to ruin the moment for me, didn’t you?” Gwen demanded.

“You make it too easy wearing your mixed feelings for Dorian all over your attitude that way. Why don’t we try meditating again? I know you say you can’t quiet your mind enough, but I think we should practice each day regardless,” Ania said. “Visions come during meditation much like they do through dreams.”

“If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have said no yesterday. Let’s go then,” Gwen said, jogging off the mat and putting the fighting stick back on the wall. “I haven’t seen him in my head in several days. I’m ready to send Malachi to try again. Anything is better than waiting for something to happen.”

Ania shook her head. “No. Malachi said it would do no good because there’s an energy block on Dorian’s end of the cord. Malachi can’t break through it without harming him. He said Dorian probably blocked it off to keep his captors from knowing it was there. When the demon has nothing to personally gain from being less than truthful about the situation, I find I can believe him completely.”

Gwen sighed, hoping whatever Zade was doing wasn’t hurting him. She didn’t need more worry. She was already worrying enough. In fact, worrying about him and Sarinnea seemed like all she did when she wasn’t working or training.

Ania hung up her fighting stick and went to retrieve her shoes, stalling while Gwen mentally wrestled with her concerns. She was all too aware of the turmoil in her pupil and friend but had said little about it. She didn’t want to throw Gwen into a depression. So far Gwen had managed to hold up best when she managed to push away the worry on her own.

“Have you seen Dorian’s meditation room?” Ania asked at last, not questioning Gwen’s quiet frown or the single shake of her head the question brought. “It’s very comforting. A lot of his energy is there. I think you’ll like it. We’ll try that today instead of his quarters.”

“If it makes me cry, I’ll put you on your ass again. All I do is worry and cry. Both are nothing but a waste of energy and time,” Gwen said.

“Do not be so prideful. Besides—if you cry, who will see or care?” Ania said with shrug. “Your tears are not a sign of weakness, but rather evidence of the depth of your feelings for your mate. They break down your physical and mental walls. They might even make the meditation easier for you.”

Gwen sighed as they headed out the door and down the hall to the room she’d purposely never visited. Even just walking by the closed door, she could tell the man’s energy was there. But he wasn’t, and she knew it would only make her miss Zade more to expose herself to it. Being already full up on the torture of missing her mate, she had intentionally stayed away.

When Ania held the door wide, Gwen took a deep breath and reluctantly stepped across the threshold. Inside there was blessed peace and the same calm Dorian exuded. Unable to stop them, Gwen let the tears roll unchecked down her face. She had never fully appreciated the calming affect he had on her until he was gone. Now it was one of the things she missed the most.

“Here—wear this,” Ania said, holding a robe up for Gwen as they both slipped off their shoes. She was pleased when Gwen just slipped her arms into it without debate. “Use the sleeves to dry the tears you shed for him. Dorian would hate that. He’s very particular about his clothes.”

Gwen snickered at Ania’s teasing even as she sniffed. “It almost feels like he’s here,” she said. “I expect him any moment to come through the door frowning and complaining.”

Ania nodded and smiled. “Yes. Dorian has embedded his energy into everything in this space. It stands in defiance of any energy coming through the door that might disrupt the peace. No holy place has ever been guarded better. Dorian is more than just strong in body. His spirit is immense.”

“I don’t know how I stayed away from him for as long as I did. I also can’t let myself believe that it ends like this—with him abducted and us not able to find him,” Gwen said.

She lifted her arms and saw the long sleeves hanging over her fingertips. She was tall enough to handle the length of the robe, but having been made to fit a tall Siren male, the arms were too long for her. It was like wearing a boyfriend’s sweater in school, she supposed. And why did Zade always make her think of the sentimental aspects of her mother’s culture?

“I swear Zade has turned me into some damn wimpy Earth female. All I want to do is wrap myself in this robe, lie down, and cry myself to sleep. Only sheer willpower, and the knowledge of how stupid that would be, keeps me from doing it,” Gwen confessed.

“I can feel your distress, but I do not think it is necessarily a negative. It validates how close in spirit you are with your missing mate. Kneel down on the pillow over there,” Ania said, pointing to the braided rug and pillow that Dorian brought from Rylen.

“Must I do the kneeling thing?” Gwen asked, hating that she sounded like child begging its mother not to have to do a chore. She was a commander—damn it. Where was her pride?

“Yes, you must do as I ask. Kneeling grounds you to the ship. It is not as good as grounding to planetary soil, but out here it is all we can do. While you kneel, allow yourself to experience your weaknesses for your mate and try making peace with your feelings. I assure you doing so will only make you more fierce as a warrior. Vulnerability is the other side of great strength in battle,” Ania instructed.

“But what if I fail? What if nothing I do helps us find him?” Gwen asked, all the questions and concerns a swirl of pain inside her.

“Gwen Shenu Jet, you made your mate proud the moment you stepped into this room where so much of his energy and power is invested. Now do as I request,” Ania ordered, turning her pupil to face where she wanted her to go before stepping back.

Gwen sighed and walked to the pillow, doing as Ania asked as she knelt. She pulled Dorian’s robe tighter around her body, reveling in the scent of him that still clung to it. It was tempting to take it back to his quarters where she had been sleeping every night he’d been gone.

As she took a deep breath, the pain of not spending those last nights with him when she could have done so filled her heart.

Then suddenly her mind went back to the day they had gone to rescue Ania. She had been so resentful of Zade that day and had acted hatefully when he offered her comfort, as was typical of her usual interaction with him. Zade had sent calming vibrations into her despite her bad attitude and her insistence of not needing his help.

As she brought that moment to mind, she could actually feel his calming vibrations settle over her again. Maybe they had been stored in the robe and she was draining them off. Maybe none of his energy would be left in the robe afterwards and this moment was the last time she was ever going to feel his energy again. The pain of that possibility was nearly unbearable to her, and she had to bite her lip to keep from saying it out loud.

Hot tears ran unchecked down her face as Gwen wished for nothing more than to wrap her arms around Dorian again and tell him how much she appreciated all that he was. She might never be an easy female to live with, but she for sure would not be so cold and hateful to him when he came back. Instead, she would thank him for caring for her.

Ania padded silently across the back of the room in bare feet, careful to not disrupt the energy Gwen was calling into herself. It was as if the very room and all the objects in it were trying to comfort Dorian’s mate in his absence. Energy was seeping from things and going into Gwen. She had not seen anything like it happen before and feared disrupting it before it had become all that it was meant to be. Her trust in the Creators allowed her to see that they were working through Gwen to set them all on the right path.

While Ania paced and waited, she chanted the names of the Creators under her breath, hoping they would hear her prayer and aid them. Feeling the resonation of her chant inside her gut, her head whipped toward Gwen, who suddenly groaned and fell forward.

Ania ran across the floor and rug to the now unconscious female, positioning her carefully with the pillow under her head. Gwen was tangled in Dorian’s meditation robe, but Ania only tucked it more tightly around her.

Then, knowing that vision trances were unpredictable in length, Ania found a comfortable position on the floor where she could best guard Gwen’s body until her spirit returned from wherever it had gone to look for Dorian.

***

When Gwen finally became aware of herself and her surroundings, she feared the worst. Looking down at her clothes had her swearing because she was just as sparsely clothed as she had been in the first vision she’d ever had about where Zade was being held.

Again she had no weapon and no shoes as she crept along the sides of buildings and across rough ground that hurt her bare feet. Relieved to see an end to the torture of her feet, Gwen finally saw the larger building she recalled contained Zade, but this time she made herself look around before rushing inside.

Finding it hard to turn her head as easily as she wished, Gwen raised hands to her neck. She was wearing a collar. Even without a mirror to check, she would bet a year’s wages it was the same type she had seen on Zade before.

Dropping her hands, Gwen looked around, finally noticing a single female wearing a collar who was working in what appeared to be a small garden outside one of the residences. Walking within hearing distance, Gwen stopped far enough away not to alarm her.

“Are you here to free me?” the female asked.

Gwen noted her tone was hopeful even though she never raised her head from her task to even look at who she addressed. She pondered briefly whether or not a lie would serve her goals best, but in the end opted for bald truth. “I’m not sure what I’m here to do other than find my abducted mate.”

“If you are not here to save me, then I cannot help you,” the female said, turning away.

“Look, I’m Commander Gwen Jet. I work on a Peace Alliance rescue ship. If you help me, I’ll make sure the Peace Alliance knows you’re being held here as a slave against your will. That’s all I can do.”

Gwen waited, but the female just continued to ignore her.

“Shades of Kellnor—I’m here only because I’m having a vision. They don’t seem to last long so please tell me what the name of this planet is before I wake up,” she demanded, running a restless hand through her short hair. She noticed the female had short hair as well. What did their captors have against long hair?

“I cannot be a slave,” the female said firmly.

“I know. No one is meant to be a slave,” Gwen agreed. “Now please—I’m begging you. Tell me where I am—where you are.”

The female finally stopped working and looked Gwen full in the face. Startled awareness grew in Gwen as she recognized her, but she said nothing because the female seemed finally ready to talk.

“My name is Sarinnea. This is the planet Terris Rein. I cannot become a bonding slave again. You must rescue me,” she demanded.

Gwen nodded. “Yes, I see that now. When I come to get Dorian Zade, I will rescue you as well. You have my word.”

“Dorian Zade? You’re coming for Dorian? Hurry then because his owner is very unhappy with him,” Sarinnea said, beginning to cry. “He—he is damaged and cannot perform his duties to his mistress. I fear she will tire of trying to fix him. I hear talk of his mistress selling him to someone else.”

“Would this matter to you?” Gwen asked, testing the female and her vision.

The female sniffled and nodded, going back to her tasks. “Dorian is my child. Of course I would care.”

“Sarinnea,” Gwen said, reaching out only to see her hand was transparent. “The vision is ending, but we’re on our way. I swear it. We’re coming to get you both.”

“What can you do, Gwen Jet? You’re just another slave,” Sarinnea said sadly, sniffling as she went back to her work.

“Trust me,” Gwen said fiercely, her voice fading. “I’m not a slave.”

“When you wear the collar, you have to be a slave,” Sarinnea said. “Dorian has been rendered unconscious by his several times, yet he still resists his fate.”

“We’re coming, Sarinnea. Tell him we’re coming. This is not just a dream,” Gwen said.

Then the world she’d been in receded and Gwen heard herself moaning with a headache far worse than any she’d ever known.

“Raging fires of Helios—having visions hurts,” she said, bringing both hands to her head. “I can’t keep doing this shit.”

Yet ironically, as badly as she hurt, Gwen was still wishing she’d been able to control the vision long enough to check on Zade again. Instead, she’d spent too long talking to Zade’s mother, but at least she knew where they were now.

Trying to fight her way out of the darkness, Gwen wanted to ask Ania for help, but the words seemed to be frozen on her tongue. Or her tongue seemed to be frozen and unable to form the words. It was hard to tell the difference, but whatever was happening, it was only making her madder.

Meanwhile, her mind continued to churn with what needed to be done.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Writing a Space Opera/Science Fiction Romance

One of the standard pieces of business that comes along with publishing your own work is the decision of how to classify it which affects how it appears in searches.  For an ebook, this is critical SEO for both the internet in general and for sales channels.

When I uploaded the first book in the FORCED TO SERVE Series, my brain was aching trying to figure out one or two categories that would work. Is it science fiction? Well, soft sci-fi probably. I am not a physicist or a biologist and I didn't write it to debate the possibility of life beyond our tiny planet. I am beyond the arrogance of thinking the Earth is the only one of its kind, but I get that my work might not be science based enough to be science fiction by some standards.

Is it paranormal? It has a demon. It has mysticism. It has Khalsa warriors who can speak ancient words of control which have vibrations that automatically manifest in those hearing them, such as turning the person's energy against them in a fight or causing a trance.

Someone early on who read THE DEMON OF SYNAR and THE DEMON MASTER'S WIFE said they considered this series primarily "fantasy". Okay. I don't mind that either. I'm definitely a "rose by any other name" sort of author.

Readers who chat with me seem for the most part to be very open-minded about categories. Like me, they don't care which label a book carries if they like the story. The only reason I have to care is because the label, title, keywords, metadata, and so on is how the book gets found, outside of word-of-mouth recommends, which is my favorite kind of growth.

So what did I do to categorize?  In addition "paranormal romance", I chose "space opera" as a category because I liked thinking of the series that way. I know some who write work classified as space opera find the term derogatory. I simply don't have that problem at this time. The FORCED TO SERVE Series really is a "friends in space" body of work. The primary setting for all the books is the spaceship they all work and travel on around the galaxy. No I haven't dug deep into the scientific impossibilities. Half the fun is assuming it's possible and then getting on with the plot. Each book sends a small sub-set of crew members to do a mission, and then they come back "home" to the ship.

I created this series in the tradition of what seemed to me to be "a soap opera set in space" as the definition says. It is a bit Star Trek, a bit Star Wars, and some Firefly. It is mostly about the relationships between the characters and their personal development. It's not a political or sociology platform for anything--or at least I don't see that in the books myself.

For those who have read my contemporary romances, and/or followed me on any social media at all, you are well aware that my only goal is to provide entertainment for a few short hours. I want to make readers laugh, sigh, and maybe wince a little, but in the end I want people smiling as they finish. There is a need for escapist science fiction stories that don't leave a reader feeling emotional beat-up like apocalyptic ones that make you cringe with their darkness. There's PLENTY of those on the bestseller list. And I read one myself now and again.

But that's not me as an author. That's not the creative space I want to write from when creating my stories. I want to write about healing, spirituality, space travel, mystical creatures, and humanity reaching beyond itself to evolve.  So that's what I am doing in the FORCED TO SERVE Series.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Genre Debate: Science Fiction vs Paranoramal vs Fantasy

Thanks much to Jesse Coffey for hosting me on her Edin Road Radio blog on April 19. We talked about my new paranormal/science fiction/space opera/Jesse thinks fantasy maybe series. How's that for genre confusion? However you want to categorize the new work I'm currently writing and releasing, I am having great fun writing the Forced To Serve series which is almost as fun as talking to Jesse about it.

Here's the link if you want to listen. Let me just plug Jesse's Edin Road Radio site by saying she interviews two authors a week every week, which is a lot of authors every year. Check out both her upcoming list and her archive. You might find some of your other favorites there.

Warning about mine: Southern accent and giggling likely to be heard. Jesse cracks me up and I end up saying and doing strange things around her. Hmmm...maybe I need to make her a character in one of my books. I think I will...muwhahahaha <practicising my evil laugh> . Vengeance will be mine. I obviously need to go back to the contemporaries for a while. Malachi (the demon in the series) is a bad influence.




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