Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Rise of the Branded by Scott Keen

Title: Rise of the Branded
Author: Scott Keen
Series: Scar of the Downers #2
Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy
Release Date: November 22, 2016

Summary:
Pursued into the wild by the soldiers of Ungstah, former slave Crik and the other freed Downers encounter the magical and terrifying nature of their world. They face spectral Shepherds, man-eating Rukmush, and the ancient giants of the earth. When two of their group are captured, Crik is distraught and powerless.

Meanwhile back in the city, Durgan, former Captain of the King’s Guard who allowed Crik and his friends to escape from Ungstah, is now a Downer, one of the Branded. Amid the murmurings of an uprising among the Branded, Durgan just wants to be left alone to search for his missing son. But in the process, he discovers how dark the powers of Sulfus the king truly are. Durgan must take a stand in the coming war between the Branded and the powerful armies of Sulfus.

To kill any hope of escape for the city’s Branded, the army comes after Crik and his friends to make an example of them. The answers for Durgan, Crik and freedom for all Downers lie hidden in the dark recesses of the Northern Reaches, in the treacherous places Crik and his companions are about to enter.

Scar of the Downer #1
Summary:
Branded on the slaves in the Northern Reaches beyond Ungstah, the scar marks each one as a Downer. It is who they are. There is no escaping this world. Still, strange things are stirring.

Two foreigners ride through the Northern Reaches on a secret mission. An unknown cloaked figure wanders the streets of the dark city of Ungstah. What they want no one can be sure, but it all centers around a Downer named Crik.

Crik, too scared to seek freedom, spends his days working in his master’s store, avoiding the spirit-eating Ash Kings, and scavenging food for himself and his best friend, Jak. Until he steals from the wrong person. When Jak is sold to satisfy the debt, Crik burns down his master’s house and is sentenced to death.

To survive, Crik and his friends must leave behind their life of slavery to do what no other Downer has ever done before – escape from the city of Ungstah.

What is the biggest influence/interest that brought you to this genre?
I would have to say that the biggest influence in my life that brought me to writing fantasy was J.R.R. Tolkien and his work. The Simarillion and the history of middle-earth fascinated me, all the stories and characters that grew out of it. It revealed to me the depth that is possible in a fantastic world. But even before I knew of Tolkien, I always loved fantasy. I remember watching The Neverending Story as a kid and being amazed by it. Whenever there was a special and The Wizard of Oz came on television, I always wanted to watch it. There is something inside of me that has always been drawn to that genre more than any other. I think it gives me, as a writer and the way I write, the chance to explore what it means to be human.

When writing a book, what is your favorite part of the creative process(outline, plot, character names, editing, etc)?
My favorite part of the creative process besides writing the actual book is developing the story. Before I sit down to write, I usually spend quite a lot of time just thinking about the story and the characters. I take notes of the plot points, the characters and their names, and any other detail I want to include. In screenwriting, I begin outlining the story with what they call a step outline. When I prepare to write a novel, I spend time listing the chapters and what each one may include. That way, I can see the story progress as a whole. That’s not to say that it doesn’t change while I do the actual writing. It is always fluid. But that, I would say, is my favorite part. Discovering the world I’m building is exciting. It is completely unchartered territory. You can go anywhere, do anything, meet anyone you want. As the saying goes, the world is your oyster, and that is most definitely true when writing fantasy.

When reading a book, what genre do you find most interesting/intriguing?
My reading tastes are very similar to my writing ones. I spend a lot of time reading young adult and middle grade fantasy. After all, that is what I write. I like to see what other authors are writing and what children are reading. But beyond that, I am drawn to books that take me away from the modern setting. So, the classics and stories set in history have always been intriguing. In a way, if the story sits too close to home, I find myself having very little interest in it.

If you could co-author with any author, past or present, who would you choose?
That’s a very good question, and one I’ve never thought about it before. In fact, the more I think about it, the more difficult it is to answer. Although I’ve never written with someone else, I have brainstormed a stage play before with my wife. She left the writing of it to me. I would imagine that it could be a sensitive process unless the visions matched. But if I had to choose someone, I would probably choose Tolkien.

Have you always wanted to write or did it come to you "later in life"?
I didn’t come to novel writing until quite late. As a teenager, I wrote songs for the band I was in. I also wrote poetry to some extent, but it was very sporadic. Looking back, I believe I was trying to scratch an itch, but I couldn’t ever satisfy it. When I went to college, I signed up for a screenwriting course and loved it. But the idea of trying to write for a living hadn’t entered my mind. At one time, before I started law school, I did try to write a novel. I never got past the first page. I didn’t know where to go. Then, after one semester in law school, I realized I didn’t want to be a lawyer. So, I entered the Script & Screenwriting MFA program. However, it wasn’t until I read The Book of the Dun Cow by Walter Wangerin Jr. that I truly sat down to write my first novel. That was in 2006-2007. I was nearly 30 at that time. But I have worked at some form of writing since my teenage years.

Author Bio:
Scott grew up in Black River, NY, the youngest of three children. While in law school, he realized he didn’t want to be a lawyer. So he did the practical thing – he became a writer. Now, many years later with an MFA in script and screenwriting, he is married with four daughters, two of whom he homeschools.

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The Rise of the Binded #2

Scar of the Downers #1




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Truly, Madly, Whiskey by Melissa Foster

Title: Truly, Madly, Whiskey
Author: Melissa Foster
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 10, 2017
Summary:
A new, emotionally riveting, sexy standalone romance by New York Times bestselling author Melissa Foster. Watch mysteriously sexy Bear Whiskey claw his way to his happily ever after with sassy, rebellious Crystal Moon.

In TRULY, MADLY, WHISKEY…

Eight months is a long damn time to have the hots for a woman who keeps a guy at arm’s length. But Crystal Moon is no ordinary woman. She’s a sinfully sexy, sass-mouthed badass, and the subject of Bear Whiskey’s midnight fantasies. She’s also one of his closest friends.

Just when Crystal thinks she has her life under control, scorching-hot, possessive, aggressive, and fiercely loyal Bear pushes all her sexual buttons, relentless in his pursuit to make her his.

The more Bear pushes, the hotter their passion burns, unearthing memories for Crystal that are best kept buried. But there’s no stopping the collision of her past and present, catapulting the two lovers down an emotionally charged road that has them questioning all they thought they knew.

What Others Are Saying:
"When it comes to contemporary romances with realistic characters, an emotional love story and smokin' hot sex, author Melissa Foster always delivers!" The Romance Reviews

"Like Nora Roberts, Melissa Foster has captivated me with her fantastic, sexy, romantic stories." K. Winning

"One of the greatest contemporary romance authors of all time." Underneath the Covers

"I'm highly addicted to her stories, and still want to kick my own behind for taking so long to finally read her." The Power of Three Readers


They drove to Woody’s Burgers in silence, which was how he knew there was probably more to this than a shitty visit with her mother. He also knew she wasn’t going to tell him what was really going on. At least not yet. He came on strong, but they had a solid friendship that felt more like a relationship and went beyond his desire to finally taste her luscious mouth. He cared about her, and one way or another, he’d figure out a way to get her to talk. He had to, because knowing she was hurting and not being able to fix it made him want to tear someone’s head off.

He parked the truck and reached across the seat, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey.” He waited until she met his gaze. “Whatever’s going on, you know you can talk to me.”

Her eyes fell to their hands, and a hint of a smile lifted her lips. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

Woody’s was a low-key burger joint with brick walls that had been painted white and bright green tables and benches. Overgrown ferns and decorative iron lights hung from metal rods along the ceiling. The floor was a mismatched patchwork of wooden planks. It didn’t look like much, but they had the best burgers and fries in Peaceful Harbor, and tonight Bear had the prettiest girl in the harbor on his arm, too. It was a good night, despite the cloud hanging over Crystal’s head. He’d shelter her from whatever storm came her way.

He slid into the booth beside her.

“There are two benches for a reason,” she pointed out.

“Oh, right.” He kicked his feet up on the bench across from them, the tips of his black leather boots visible over the edge of the table.

She laughed.

“Your turn.” He tapped her thigh, leaving his hand there as she lifted her feet beside his.

She pushed his hand from her thigh without a word, and he stretched his arm across the back of the bench.

“Are you always like this?” She picked up the menu and looked it over.

“You’ve known me for a long time. You tell me.”

“I know how you are with me. I mean with other girls. I’ve never been out with you, like on a date.”

He began kneading the tension from her shoulder. “Then maybe it’s time to remedy that.”

The waitress interrupted before she could respond, and they ordered burgers and fries, and Crystal ordered a milk shake. Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry mixed, please. She was unique in everything she did, and he loved that about her. Their food came quickly, and they made small talk about getting ready for Tru and Gemma’s wedding.

When he couldn’t stand the edge in her voice any longer, he said, “Tell me about your mom.”

She shrugged. “Nothing to tell. We’re not very close.”

“Why was tonight so rough?” He picked up a fry and dunked it in her shake as she lifted her burger to her mouth.

“Um…?” She lowered her burger to the plate. “What are you doing?”

“Dunking my fry in your shake.” He popped it in his mouth. “Haven’t we done this before?”

“No.”

“We’ve known each other for almost a year and we’ve never had fries and shakes? That’s not true and you know it.”

“You’ve never dunked your fry in my shake,” she clarified.

He brushed his shoulder against hers. “Whose fault is that? I would love to bury my fry in your luscious milk shake.”

She laughed. “Not happening.” She took a big bite of her burger, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk, clearly trying to avoid talking about that.

He finished his burger and put his arm around her again, dipping another fry in her shake. He held it up for her, and she swatted his hand away, pointing to her full mouth. Her eyes were wide, but smiling, which he totally dug.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what. Tell me why tonight was so rough, and I’ll leave your shake alone.”

She shook her head, and he dunked another fry. She whimpered, trying to swallow her burger as quickly as she could.

“My girl doesn’t swallow well. Noted.”

She laughed/snorted and choked on her burger. He patted her on the back, both of them laughing.

“I’ll help you with that whole swallowing thing,” he offered, which made her laugh harder, causing her to snort again.

She tried to catch her breath, and he dunked another fry.

“Hey!”

“Just try one. You’ll like it. I promise.”

She eyed the fry as if it were poison.

“One bite.” He dragged the fry along her lower lip. Leaning closer, he said, “You’d better lick that off before I do.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her tongue swept over her lower lip.

“Christ Almighty,” he grumbled.

She laughed. “That’s pretty good. Salty and sweet.”

“Stick with me, baby. I’ll make sure you get your fill of salty and sweet.”



Author Bio:
Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes contemporary romance, new adult, contemporary women’s fiction, suspense, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Her books have been recommended by USA Today’s book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary CafΓ© and Fostering Success. When she’s not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success. Melissa has been published in Calgary’s Child Magazine, the Huffington Post, and Women Business Owners magazine.

Melissa hosts an Aspiring Authors contest for children and has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Melissa lives in Maryland with her family.

Visit Melissa on social media. Melissa enjoys discussing her books with book clubs and reader groups, and welcomes an invitation to your event.


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Monday, April 10, 2017

Monday's Montage Mantlepiece: Space Invaders


Summary:
Soldier Mine by Amber Kell
When Kreslan is attacked, little does he know the shapeshifting beast who saves him will completely change his life.

When Kreslan Piers is attacked in the cargo hold, he is rescued by a rare shape-shifting beast who transforms into the reincarnated leader of an entire planet. Will Kreslan be willing to give up his dream of being an ordinary soldier to partner with an extraordinary creature?

Vohne has been named by his human half, and the longer they’re together the more he’s remembering the details of their previous lives—lives he shared with Kreslan before watching him die. When they reach the Thresl home planet, Vohne has to break the news to his skittish mate that they not only does he belong to Vohne, but he is fated to be his other half for the rest of eternity.

The Viking in My Bed by Jan Irving
Wise-talking college student Bailey Moore saves his romantic side for the historical romances he’s secretly addicted to—until he wakes up crushed under six foot plus of sexy, aroused ancient Viking.

Bailey Moore is a cynical, wise-talking college student who saves his mushy, romantic side for the historical romances he's addicted to-until he wakes up crushed under six feet three inches of aroused Viking warrior.

At first he takes Freyr GrΓ­msson as a glorious odd ball obsessed with Medieval role playing-down to his rough hewn sword, but Frey insists Bailey is his guide in this new world and when Bailey is attacked by a mysterious creature, he's convinced that he and Frey have to wage a battle to drive evil forces off campus. But when his Viking conquers him in bed, Bailey is afraid Frey will also lay claim to his secret, vulnerable heart.

Retribution by Jambrea Jo Jones
Retribution: Is love worth the cost?

Rave Anders lost everything - his job, his lover, and part of his soul. Accused of a crime he didn't commit, it's taken him years to build up a respectable intergalactic transport business. Pulled into a web of intrigue and espionage, Rave is forced to face ex-lover Kain Sims, the one man he no longer trusts.

On a mission for the Alliance, Kain must convince Rave the fate of a world rests in both their hands. Kain needs Rave to help to destroy a deadly weapon before it can be used to eradicate a planet. But that's the easy part; the hard part is making Rave believe he never wanted to leave him in the first place.

Can they save a world and reclaim the love they once shared, in a galaxy of deception?

One Breath, One Bullet by S.A. McAuley
Face to face, and rifle to rifle. The time and location change, but never the circumstance. Merq Grayson and Armise Darcan are enemies. And neither will be considered successful until the other is dead.

It is the year 2558. A mere decade has passed since the signing of the treaty which ended the three hundred year long Borders War. In the midst of an uneasy peace, the world gathers for the first Olympic games since the war began.

The Rifle competition showcases the very soldiers who fought in the war, pitting former enemies against one another again. Continental States Peacemaker Merq Grayson will once again battle the Dark Ops officer from the People’s Republic of Singapore, Armise Darcan, this time under the flag of their own uneasy truce. The relationship between Merq and Armise is one of violence, secrecy, and a growing intimacy that could have them both branded as traitors.

But there is more at stake than pride or medals in these games. And neither Merq nor Armise may be able to make it out alive before the fires of revolution are set ablaze again.

To See the Sky by L.M. Brown
Can a lab rat whore find love with the servant of his master, or will their different backgrounds and prejudices keep them apart?

In the distant future, where the devastation caused by war has driven the human race below the surface of the Earth, society is split in half. The rich scientists live in towers where they can monitor the surface and determine when the poisonous gasses have cleared and the world is safe for humans once more. Meanwhile the majority of the human race lives in crowded labyrinthine caves, where life is harsh and short. Uneducated and with no real prospects for the future, a 'lab rat' is lucky to live to see thirty years of age. Employment options are minimal and few can escape the fate of choking to death on the dust of the caves.

When AJ, one of the poorest members of society, needs credits for medicine for his sister he is in a desperate situation. With no other options available he risks alienation from his family by selling himself to the highest bidder. Love is the last thing on his mind, but while Blake, his new owner, might not be Mr Right, Ryder, his servant, just might be. Unfortunately, their different backgrounds, prejudices, and AJ's brutal owner seem destined to keep them apart, but true love can be theirs for the taking, if they can only find a way.


Soldier Mine by Amber Kell
"Just who I wanted to see."

Kreslan Piers didn’t need to turn around to know who had sneaked up behind him in the hall. Barley Tankis’ voice haunted his dreams. The bastard had made it his mission in life to bother Kres since basic training. Unfortunately, Barley’s father was an admiral in the fleet, so complaining about Tankis’ behaviour never produced any results. Kres had learnt that lesson the hard way and had a scar on his arm to show for his efforts.

"Hello, Barley." Kres reluctantly turned to meet his nemesis.

"Hello, faggot," Barley sneered. If his usual expression wasn’t so unpleasant, the tall blond could have been considered handsome with his wide shoulders and icy blue eyes. Unfortunately, it didn’t take much digging to find the vast ugliness that lay beneath the surface.

"What do you want?" Kres had just finished sixteen hours of guard duty after one of his co-workers had come down with a cold. He could barely keep his eyes open. He didn’t need to put up with Barley’s crap on top of everything else. He longed for a few hours of sleep followed by a trip to the bar to grab a willing bedmate for a round of stress-reducing sex. Hell, at this point he was so desperate he might even be willing to consider a woman.

"I talked to Sergeant Wallace, and he agreed with me that you should guard the creatures tonight."

Kres’ stomach churned over Barley’s smug expression.

Shit. So much for stress reduction.

Even though he knew it was pointless, he offered a token protest. "I can’t guard them tonight. I just got off sixteen hours. I’m going to get some food, then go to sleep."

Fuck, he needed sleep.

"So I should go back and tell the sergeant you’re ignoring a direct order?" Barley’s cold eyes glowed with malice.

Anger pulsed through Kres. He knew he was powerless but that didn’t stop him from issuing a threat that would no doubt go unfulfilled. "One of these days you’re going to get what’s coming to you."

He had to believe that. It was the only thing that kept him from punching Barley in the face and getting court-martialled.

With a final glare at Barley, Kres turned and headed towards the cargo bay.

"Enjoy your shift." Barley’s mocking laughter followed him down the hall.

Kres wished he could get away with punching the bastard again, but the last time he’d done that, he had been the one who had ended up in the brig for three days while Barley had roamed free. Kres had learnt his lesson. He only did things to Barley when he knew he could get away with them.

Sergeant Wallace gave him a cool look when he arrived. "Took you long enough to get here."

"I came as soon as I heard you wanted me on guard duty, Sergeant. I just got off a double shift." Kres didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in his voice. His feet hurt, his back ached and he longed for his hard cot of a bed with a fierce need. At this point, a trip to the brig would at least allow him to get some sleep.

"Then you shouldn’t have volunteered for this one," the sergeant barked at him.

"I didn’t, Sergeant," Kres replied through gritted teeth.

"Are you saying Barley is a liar?"

How he longed to say yes.

"I would never say that, Sergeant. But then, as I didn’t volunteer and Barley said you insisted I do this watch, I’ll let you make the judgment call."

The older man gave him a long, considering gaze. "I like Admiral Tankis. Too bad his son is a prick. Unfortunately, because you were volunteered, I let my other guard go. I’m going to need you to take this shift, soldier, and then I’ll make sure Barley takes the next three."

The thought of Barley watching animals for one evening much less three drained away most of Kres’ anger. "I’ll do my duty."

The sergeant slapped Kres on the back, almost knocking the wind out of him. "I knew I could count on you. You’re a good man, Piers."

The Viking in my Bed by Jan Irving
Oh. That felt just toooo good.

Warm lips on my sweet spot. A lot of guys had made the mistake of thinking my sweet spot was in the obvious location, but I have a thing for having my right armpit licked and suckled, right over this little mole.

A soft beard scraped my skin with just the right amount of pressure. I shivered, arching my body.

I was aware I was close to waking up, like a boat about to bump onto a beach, but the hand stroking my bare chest felt so good I didn’t want to. What was good about Thursday? Thursday was rain, midterms, coffee with Candy, and maybe I’d be able to squeeze in an hour boarding. Maybe.

Thursday was not vivid blue eyes staring into mine. A wide, delighted smile, like a kid’s smile. Plump ribbons of braided blond hair that framed a tanned face. Miles of muscle that I was...stroking?

I sat up.

"Good. This will be better when you’re awake, yes, seiΓ°maΓ°r?" a heavily accented voice boomed.

He was so loud I covered my ears. The guy on top of me had a chest like a fog horn.

"What are you doing?" I squeaked.

I was naked. Since I’d moved into college residence, I could sleep naked, which saved a lot of time on laundry. My two other roommates were guys, so it’s not like I was going to offend their tender sensibilities.

"I am making love to you, of course," the gigantic blond bellowed.

"Stop shouting!" I yelled.

He frowned, looking like a puzzled golden retriever. "You shouted."

"I live here!" I said with, I have to admit, very little logic. "Listen, Conan, can you get off me?"

He was built like Arnie and he was squishing my legs into my bed. This had to be a set up. I wondered who wanted to yank my, uh, tail—which was hard enough to wag right now.

But so was Conan’s.

"I am not called Conan," he told me stiffly.

"Uh huh. So how much did my friends pay you?" He pushed back the blankets. His name might not be Conan, but if they made a rubber to fit his dick, it would be Conan-sized. I stared, my mouth watering.

Focus, I scolded myself. Just because he has the kind of cock I’d love to suck, I mean love, going down as far as I could on the monster and holding those big rocks and squeezing them...

Right, focus. I got out of bed and grabbed some briefs off the back of a chair.

Conan got out of bed and stood there, hands on his hips, as naked as Michelangelo’s David.

"Where’d you put your clothes?" I looked around, then sniffed. "Do you smell smoke?"

"You ask a lot of questions," he noted.

"Is that a new kind of weed? What is that smell?" Had I left the boiler plate on again? Geez. It smelled like scorched earth in here. It hadn’t been that long since I’d done the laundry.

"It is the mark of my passage to this world," Conan said.

Mark. I saw the hardwood floor was scuffed up. There was a burn on my fake wood wall and a seared heap of cloth that was a weird red colour. I stared at the wool, trying to figure out why it looked both familiar and strange. Oh, it had been dyed with raw madder. I’d helped Mom mix that natural dye for her weaving projects. I picked up the cloth, seeing fragments of a round neckline and cuffs with metal links featuring a snarling animal face. Wow. Mom would be really into this. I was about to ask Conan where he got the shirt when I noticed something else...

"Oh no, my graphic!" The new knot design I’d finished the night before was scorched, the paper curled. Damn. I stuffed it carefully in my messenger bag. Maybe I could photocopy the design. I wanted to show it to my prof later today.

I looked at the guy I’d woken up with.

He was very tall, towering over me. He wore a neatly trimmed dark blond beard. On either side of his face were golden braids, though the rest of his hair was long and free.

He was gorgeous, but obviously obsessed with some kind of role-playing. Figures there’d be something wrong with him since I’d woken up with him. I’d always picked the lemons in the barrel.

But he had a sweet smile.

And I had class in less than an hour.

I tossed more of my clothing, looking for a clean T-shirt. I found one with palm trees and camels my Mom had snagged for me on a trip to Cairo. It was clean. Now I needed my favourite pair of stonewashed jeans.

Conan was still standing there, glowering at me like I was a servant boy who’d forgotten to dress his royal highness.

"Okay," I said. "I gotta get to class. It was real funny." I swallowed. How he got me so hard, so excited. How he felt covering me. "Ha ha. Now go, your Lordship."

"I am Freyr GrΓ­msson," he continued, in a language I didn’t understand. Maybe it was Middle-earth. I found my jeans.

"There’s coffee and, I think, some left over pizza in the fridge," I told him. "Bye."

I sneaked one last look at him over my shoulder as I snagged my backpack.

He took my breath away. Glowing golden skin, glowering at me out of electric-blue eyes, hands on his corded hips, the kind of hips with dimples created by muscles. He had scars on his body too. Probably some kind of makeup to go with his persona. His cock hung long from a thatch of blond hair almost as bright as the gold on his head. Holy geez. I gave it a wistful glance and then slammed the door behind me.

Retribution by Jambrea Jo Jones
“Commander Rave Anders, a panel of your peers has found you guilty of theft of government property. You are hereby dishonourably discharged and sentenced to thirty days on the penal colony Devil’s Island.”

Rave fell to his seat in disbelief as the panel left the room. Just like that, his military career was gone, like so much smoke. Most would think that was the worst thing, but it wasn’t. The worst was Rave’s lover, Kain, couldn’t be found.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He turned, hoping to see Kain. His stomach sank when he saw his friend, Sela instead.

“It’s no use, Rave. It’s as if he’s disappeared. His parents don’t know where he is, either. I’m sorry.”

He rested his head in his hands. “I can’t believe it, Sela. He’s out there, somewhere, hurt. He’d be here if he was able.”

Rave looked up at Sela and saw the guards approaching behind her.

“I’ll do what I can to find him, Rave.”

He gave a sharp nod and turned to follow the guards to the pod waiting to take him to Devil’s Island, his thoughts in turmoil. How would he survive the next thirty days? Being in the military put a target on his back and Devil’s Island was one of the worst prison colonies in the universe. His heart ached at the thought of Kain, alone and hurt while he could do nothing about it. Nothing really mattered if Kain wasn’t safe. The guard shoved him into the craft and shackled him to the seat.

After the criminals were processed, the ship started the journey to Devil’s Island.

“Hey, you’s that military thief? Yep, you is. You’s the guy whose got fucked up the ass, but then, I hear ya like that, don’t ya?” The passenger beside him snickered. “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of action on DI.”

Rave leaned over and yanked him close enough that Rave could smell the man’s putrid breath. “Shut the fuck up.”

“No need to gets with the rough stuff. I ain’t after that pretty ass,” the man mumbled as Rave shoved him back into his seat.

Rave closed his eyes to block out the upcoming nightmare. He had two hours to devise a plan that would keep him from getting killed while being detained. He had a lover to find.

One step at a time.

His thoughts drifted.What had happened?

That question played over and over in his mind. One minute, Kain had left the ship. The next, the Alliance had boarded the ship and arrested Rave. Two days before the ship docked, the crew had conducted an inventory and those government boxes hadn’t been there. The Alliance had shown up, and suddenly, there the boxes had sat, pretty as you please. Something wasn’t adding up.

Rave didn’t do suspicion. He placed his faith in all his crew and expected their trust in return. Kain had never given him a reason not to trust him. Hell, Rave loved the man. He couldn’t love a traitor, could he? Focus, Damn it! Worry about now.

The force of take off glued him to the seat. He swallowed then bit his lip. He wasn’t prepared, not really. All the training in the world couldn’t prepare a person for a prison colony—an open world full of the worst criminals in the universe. He couldn’t figure out why the Alliance wanted to send him to a high security planet. He should have been shipped off to one of the minimum security colonies.

When the flight smoothed out, Rave forced himself to relax. He had to get some sleep. He wouldn’t get much on DI. Rave prayed he would wake from this nightmare, wrapped in the comfort of Kain arms, ready for their morning romp.

Kain, where are you?

One Breath, One Bullet by SA McAuley
Year 2546The Dark Continental Republic

I hated the heat of the desert.

The mask on my face was confining, filling with the condensation of each breath I dragged into my lungs and forced back out in shallow gasps. The goggles over my eyes should have protected me from the yellow and grey cloud of Chemsense the Dark Continental Republic Army had unleashed on our battalion, but I could feel my eyes watering, the liquid gathering in pools that threatened to make my skin too damp to maintain the protective seal.

I was on my knees and I couldn’t remember when I’d stopped walking. I wasn’t far enough away yet. The shouts of the DCR soldiers—and the sonicpops of their weapons as they picked off States soldiers—were muffled but still too close. My body tilted, and I planted my hands into the sand without thought. I collapsed into the dune when my right shoulder ground together, bone against bone, tendons ripping. I thought those DCR goons had only managed to dislocate it, but this pain was worse than that—a grinding impact of racking, vision-blackening pain that didn’t ebb even when I flopped onto my back and let my arm lie unmoving in the scorching sand.

My mantra, pounded into me through years of training, repeated in my head as I consciously stilled my body.

One breath.

Inhale.

Hesitation is my enemy.

Solitude my ally.

Death the only real victory.

Exhale.

A ferocious hot wind whipped around and over me, driving sand into my open wounds, like a million simultaneous pricks of a pin. If the wind kept up like this it was going to drive away the lingering cloud of Chemsense. And I needed the thick, toxic cover if I was going to make it over the dune and out of sight of the DCR forces.

If I was going to survive, I had to keep moving.

My body was drenched in sweat—mine and the ripe remnants of the soldiers I’d fought hand to hand. My ribs on the right side were crushed and with each breath I wondered if this would be the inhalation that sent a spear of bone into the soft, vulnerable flesh of my lung, collapsing it and killing me before backup could arrive.

I ripped the transport chip out of the hidden pocket where it was sewed into my tattered uniform. My thumb hovered over the button as my mind warred with the instinct just to press it. But I couldn’t simply transport out of this clusterfuck. The transition would be too much of a shock to my mangled body.

If I was going to succeed, I had to keep moving.

The thought was all that propelled me. There was no desire to survive left in me. No want of more from life. It was my orders, my mission, that forced me to sit up, shift to my knees and stumble to my feet.

My right arm hung loosely at my side. My firing arm. Without it I could never be a sniper again. And that should have been the least of my concerns, but I couldn’t silence the part of me that contended that death would be preferential over never shooting my rifle again.

I staggered, then caught myself before falling again. The pain of my disconnected shoulder was almost too much to bear—a jolt of red, angry agony that sliced across my vision with each step forward. Silver droplets swam in my peripheral eyesight, a sign that my already throbbing head was on the verge of erupting.

I trudged through the unending sand of the DCR desert because I had no other choice. To stop was to fail. And I didn’t fail. The sand felt thicker than the detritus of an American Federation riverbed. My feet sank deeper than into the suck of a United Union bog. I moved slower than the day I’d taken my first tentative steps off the hospital bed in the States when I was five years old and my legs had nearly been taken by the sonic explosion that had destroyed the only home I would ever know.

And I knew this desert was worse than all of those places because I was dying.

I was closer to death than I’d been in the People’s Republic of Singapore the night Armise took a blade to my throat.

Armise.

The name rushed through me like endorphins, heating my already boiling blood. I barely had enough brain cells left active and firing to stand, let alone move, but my hate for Armise fed me like a vial of surge emptied into my bloodstream.

That I’d fucked him more times in the last year than I wanted to count didn’t matter.

That there had been a part of me anticipating he would be on the ground in the DCR when I arrived was like a psychotic practical joke.

He’d had the infochip I was seeking the entire time.

It had been inches from my fingers when I drove into him last night. But he had waited until my soldiers and me were trapped in a standoff with DCR forces—sonicrifle to sonicrifle—to let me in on that vital piece of intel.

I wouldn’t let him so easily get under my skin again.

I might not have eliminated him, but I’d obtained the infochip I’d been sent to extract. And I’d taken Armise’s finger in the process. I choked on the laughter that bubbled up in my throat. Too bad the missing digit wasn’t on his firing hand.

If nothing else, I would survive to kill him.

Whatever this was between Armise and me ended here. Now.

But even in my haze I was aware of how irresolute that promise sounded.

I kept moving.

Until I wasn’t anymore.

Blackness overtook me in an uncontrollable instant.

To See The Sky by LM Brown
AJ4982—known as AJ—squinted at the ‘employee wanted’ cards pinned on the wall of the agency. He could only read the figures on the cards and had no idea what jobs they offered. He didn’t care, he’d do anything to raise the credits for his sister’s medicine. Finally he spotted one with the figure 500 printed at the bottom in bold black lettering. He grabbed the card from the wall and marched over to the clerk’s desk.

"Hi, I’m Landon. How can I help you today?" the bespectacled clerk said as he took the card from AJ’s outstretched hand. His eyes widened slightly as he scanned the job details before turning back to AJ.

"Put this back where you found it," Landon ordered as he passed the advert back.

"I want to apply for the job," AJ stated.

Landon looked him over, taking in his messy hair, ragged clothes and swiftly assessing him to be one of the uneducated masses. "You can’t do this job."

"I’ll do any job."

Landon looked at the card again and cleared his throat before reading the text. "‘Wanted—Laboratory Technician with at least three years experience in bio-science for temporary assignment in sector R9’. Still think you can do the job?"

AJ ducked his head, embarrassment sweeping over him.

Landon gave him a sympathetic glance. "Can you even read?"

"I can read enough," AJ snapped.

"You can read figures, the same as the rest of the lab rats," Landon corrected. "You can tell the time, see what things cost and make sure you’ve been paid correctly. The scientists need their staff to be properly educated. Now, what was your last job?"

"I was a runner down in the tunnels," AJ replied reluctantly. With the surface of the planet uninhabitable after the Last War, the human race had taken refuge beneath the ground. The underground community was outgrowing the caverns they inhabited at an alarming rate. The original emergency caves had filled as soon as the survivors took refuge. Within just two generations the cave system could no longer hold everyone and the tunnelling downward had begun. More than five hundred years later the digging still continued, with twisting tunnels stretching out in every direction as they struggled to accommodate the ever-increasing population.

"I’ve got nothing for a runner these days," Landon said. "Since the collapse in sector C14 workers in the tunnels are being laid off. No one’s hiring at the moment."

AJ knew all about the collapse in C14. He had lost a friend in the accident and several lab rats from his own sector had been injured badly enough that they would never work again. AJ had been in sector C13 at the time of the collapse and he could still hear the screams from the neighbouring sector as the roof caved in on the diggers and runners who were trapped within it.

"I’ll do anything."

Landon sighed and tapped the screen of his hand-held computer. "Can you wait tables?"

"How much does the job pay?"

"Ten credits a night."

"That’s not enough."

Landon gave him a stern look over the top of his glasses. "Lab rats can’t afford to be picky."

"I need five hundred credits in three days."

The clerk’s jaw dropped. "What sort of trouble have you got yourself into?"

AJ bristled at the implication he had done something wrong. "It’s for medicine for my sister. The physician has given her three days if she doesn’t get the lung decongestant. What have you got that’ll get me the credits?"

Landon shook his head. "I’m sorry. I’ve got nothing. Have you thought of moving her to a less dusty sector?"

"Of course I have. We don’t have the credits to move either. There must be something I can do to get five hundred credits." AJ had no intention of giving up. He had too much at stake.

Landon contemplated him for several minutes before glancing around the office. When he appeared satisfied no one lingered in earshot he leant forward and lowered his voice. AJ inched closer as well.

"I’ll do anything," he repeated.

Landon gave a small nod. "Okay, here’s the deal. Officially, we don’t offer this sort of work…"

AJ breathed a sigh of relief. "And unofficially?"

"If you’re collared you can earn upwards of one hundred credits a night, depending on what you’re prepared to do."

"What do you mean?" AJ had never heard of the expression ‘collared’.

"Some of the waiters wear collars to advertise they’ll accept credits for sexual favours."

AJ jumped backwards as though he’d been bitten. "Prostitutes?"

Landon waved his hand frantically. "Keep your voice down."

AJ cringed. "I can’t have sex for credits."

"You can get your credits in a single night if you find someone who’ll accept your prices. You set your own. Get lucky and you could make your five hundred with a single blow job."

AJ looked at the three collars Landon pulled out from his desk drawer. The first was red, the second blue and the third silver. They were all about an inch wide and each sparkled in the dimly lit cave with blinking coloured lights.


SA McAuley
I sleep little, read a lot. Happiest in a foreign country. Twitchy when not mentally in motion. My name is Sam, not Sammy, definitely not Samantha. I’m a pretty dark/cynical/jaded person, but I hide that darkness well behind my obsession(s) for shiny objects. I’m the macabre wrapped in irresistible bubble wrap and a glittery pink bow, I suppose.


Amber Kell
Amber Kell has made a career out of daydreaming. It has been a lifelong habit she practices diligently as shown by her complete lack of focus on anything not related to her fantasy world building.

When she told her husband what she wanted to do with her life he told her to go have fun.

During those seconds she isn't writing she remembers she has children who humor her with games of 'what if' and let her drag them to foreign lands to gather inspiration. Her youngest confided in her that he wants to write because he longs for a website and an author name—two things apparently necessary to be a proper writer.

Despite her husband's insistence she doesn't drink enough to be a true literary genius she continues to spin stories of people falling happily in love and staying that way.

She is thwarted during the day by a traffic jam of cats on the stairway and a puppy who insists on walks, but she bravely perseveres..

She also writes under the name Mikela Q. Chase.

LM Brown
L.M. Brown lives in England, in a quaint little village that time doesn't seem to have touched. No, wait a minute- that's the retirement biography. Right now she is in England in a medium sized town that no one has ever heard of, so she won't bore you with the details. Keeping her company are numerous sexy men. She just wishes that they weren't all inside her head.


Jan Irving
Jan Irving has worked in all kinds of creative fields, from painting silk to making porcelain ceramics, to interior design, but writing was always her passion.

She feels you can’t fully understand characters until you follow their journey through a story world. Many kinds of worlds interest her, fantasy, historical, science fiction and suspense—but all have one thing in common, people finding a way to live together—in the most emotional and erotic fashion possible, of course!


Jambrea Jo Jones
Jambrea wanted to be the youngest romance author published, but life impeded the dreams. She put her writing aside and went to college briefly, then enlisted in the Air Force. After serving in the military, she returned home to Indiana to start her family. A few years later, she discovered yahoo groups and book reviews. There was no turning back. She was bit by the writing bug.

She enjoys spending time with her son when not writing and loves to receive reader feedback. She’s addicted to the internet so feel free to email her anytime.


SA McAuley
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Amber Kell
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EMAIL: amberkellwrites@gmail.com

LM Brown
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EMAIL: lmbrownauthor@gmail.com

Jan Irving
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EMAIL: janmairving@gmail.com

Jambrea Jo Jones
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EMAIL: binojo2@yahoo.com



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