Taking unknown steps into a clandestine world...

 Hello everyone!

It’s a pleasure to be here today – thanks to DL Jackson for inviting me. Halfway through the elation of clinching a guest spot here, I got stumped on the question – what will I, a romantic suspense author, talk about on a blog that caters primarily to sci-fi?

Can you say “I raked my brain to come up with a topic?” What could I tell you, sci-fi aficionados, about what it was like for me to write a romantic suspense/ espionage thriller with a strong, kick-arse protagonist doing her best to adjust to civilian life now that she has married her childhood best friend? And, oh yes – I forgot to mention: her husband doesn’t know she used to be a clandestine assassin, and someone inside her agency, the Corpus, does not agree with her leaving the ‘service’...

You peeps write and read about space, supernovas, star ships, battles in the stars, alien races— Wait a second – to convincingly portray your alien races/worlds/societies/far-flung corners of the universe, you do a lot of world-building, innit?

Well, it turns out that I also had to extensive research to build *my* world too – that of spies, clandestine agencies, espionage tradecraft. I had to immerse myself into a culture totally unknown to me (uh, hello? I’m a desperate housewife from a tropical island – what do I know about guns and spy tradecraft and danger, biological weapons, clandestine activity, assassinations, infiltration work, evasion and deceit ? *the extra pair of shoes I got that my husband doesn’t know about does not count here!*)

I might not write about such extensive worlds that requires as much world-building as you sci-fi peeps do; I do say, hats off to ye lot for going to these lengths to give us amazing, out of this world *pun intended!* stories... but I have written about a world totally unknown to me...

I hope you’ll come take a peek at what my clandestine espionage world building looks like, in Before The Morning (Corpus Brides: Book 2), my latest release from Noble Romance Publishing.

And, if you’re so inclined, take a bet on the first book in that series – Walking The Edge (Corpus Brides: Book 1) is FREE this week! Grab your copy!
Thanks for having me over today, guys! Big thanks too for letting me share the news about my novel’s release with you.

From Mauritius with love,

Zee

Covers (compressed for optimum web display) – Before the morning, Walking the edge

Excerpt – Before The Morning

From the front-facing window on the second floor of the Shepherd's Close freehold, Corpus secret agent Rayne Cheltham watched the ambulance pull away from the curb.

Shivers crept up her arms, and she hugged herself tight to ward them off.

Get a grip!

She was a professional on an assignment, an elite, trained operative from a clandestine agency that handled operations for governments and international forces as a stealthy left hand. Her agency entrusted her with the most important missions—nothing should faze her.

Before today, she would've said that nothing could affect her when she had her eyes on a goal.

But she wasn't sure anymore. She'd never had her past collide with her present like a few moments ago, in the form of her childhood best friend.

Ashford Gilfoy, better known as Ash. The boy who had been there to catch her when, at six, she had slipped while climbing the chestnut tree that sat right on the border between their two houses in Hastings, two days after her family moved there from Salisbury. The boy who had taught her how to ride a bicycle without the training wheels on the long and winding, gravel-covered lane leading to her parents' mansion. The teenager who had smashed the nose of the first lad who had broken her heart, at thirteen, during recess in the schoolyard. The young man she had left seventeen years ago on a platform at London Waterloo, on the day she bid her old life goodbye.

For the first time since that day, she was back on British soil, and kismet decided Ash should cross her path.

Why then, of all times? She was a hair's breadth away from closing the contract on this mission. Seven months of intensive infiltration work and she was ready to achieve her aim—neutralize Nikolai Grigorievskiy's criminal operations before she took out the man. The Corpus always sent her for the kill, but the trick was that she had to make her target's death appear self-inflicted, at the bare minimum, or an accident, in the direst of cases. Measles, as such operations were known in their clandestine world—a planned assassination that didn't leave any indication of the cause of death. She would then have to sanitize everything—leave no evidence, no witness, nothing that could lead back to her. Unlike her other agency counterparts, she wasn't an out-and-out black ops assassin, but a different level of highly implicated agent provocateur.

In other words, a consummate actress who got to her ends by manipulating people and circumstances. All those years of drama school, at her mother’s insistence when, obviously, she'd be too tall to become a ballerina, came in handy. In fact, her portrayal of Lady Macbeth in the drama school's end of year play had caught the eye of the people who had recruited her into the Corpus. Seventeen years into the agency, fifteen of them as Kali, her operative name, a sociopath with no apparent conscience who followed her orders with diligence. Never had any one of her targets come close to figuring she was an undercover agent. Her track record was flawless—each assignment undertaken with one hundred percent success rate and a marginal body count.

Until today, when she'd almost gotten burned.

Ash had recognized her down there. For a second, she'd thought her cover was blown. Then, she'd taken a deep breath and forced herself to remain in character. Never panic, always stay in control, breathe and gather your wits—the first lesson drilled inside the mind of any secret agent. Pulling on a blank face was one of her fortes, and Ash had bought the act. He thought she was Irina, clueless twenty-year-old from the dirt-poor suburbs of Moscow who didn't speak any other language but Russian.

She'd had a few close encounters in the past, but never like that. Rayne and Kali had two separate, compartmentalized lives that ran parallel. The two should never have touched, because that would end up making a mess of her. She could keep each persona separate, as long as she could push Rayne to some dark corner of her mind. Her job taxed her, and she walked the tight line of paranoia every single second while undercover.

But if Rayne came to the front during a mission . . . .

Damn it, she wasn't a rookie agent on her first mission. Cherries, as the CIA called them. Hell, even during her first undercover operation, she'd had no qualms and no trouble achieving her aim.

Why today, when everything was smooth sailing toward a much-desired goal?

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the windowpane. The glass was warm against her clammy skin.

She was sweating?

That will not do. I have to take control again.

She had to forget about Ash, about Rayne, and focus on being Irina, the one who would bring down a notorious criminal. Her agency and the whole world counted on her to take out the piece of scum. She was their last hope, sent in as the trump card after good cops got killed when trying to bring Nikolai to justice.

Someone knocked on the door, and she pulled away from the window. Damn it, she still had a job to do.

Willing confidence to steel her spine on a deep breath, she turned around. She blinked a few times, called forth tears. She was supposed to be a young wife who'd just been hit by her husband, a man she'd left downstairs at the party with a leggy blonde draped all over his side.

The moisture trickled onto her cheek, and she swiped her eyes to smear the kohl and mascara.

There—she should present the desired picture of despair.

"Da?" she answered as she stepped toward the door.

The panel opened quietly. "Zdrastuyte, Gaspazha Grigorievskaya."

Hello, Mrs. Grigorievskaya. Such formality. Only one man addressed her with such deference and respect—Boris Petrov, Nikolai's right-hand man.

"Zdrastuyte, Boris Ivanovich." She replied him with the same formal greeting, using his patronymic name to further show her respect, as was customary in the Russian culture.

Boris was the least disposable target in the whole operation—the keystone. She had to bring him down, or at least create a rift between the two men. Everything would crumble afterward. Nikolai wouldn't have his main pillar of support, and would thus crash down through the pyramidal structure of his operations.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

She shrugged, forced a small, tremulous smile. Russian wives, she'd learned, tolerated a lot of their husbands' outbursts. "It's nothing."

"You shouldn't listen to what Mikhail said. He is just jealous that Kolya's attention is not wholly directed onto him any longer."

"It does not bother me," she said in a small voice.

Make a move, she silently urged him. For her plan to work, Boris had to capitalize on the simmering embers of passion that flared between him and his boss' wife, and that he denied all the time. She'd already lost too much time, and had to start the measles process.

I have to take matters in my hands. There's no other way.

She trained her eyes on him. Boris was a big, burly man in his mid-forties. Anyone could imagine him knocking out a person with just a flick of his thick wrist. Toying with him was like playing with fire—she could get burnt. But she had no other choice. The time had come. Five months to gain Nikolai's trust and compliance; two months to insidiously plant the seeds of discord within the criminal's entourage. She didn't have much leeway to work at influencing outcomes anymore. No—she had to provoke.

Rayne inhaled, felt the oxygen fill her lungs and clear her brain. She forced herself into her character. What would Irina do?

She gasped, and brought her hands to cover her mouth. With rapid steps, she rushed to Boris' side. She reached out with one hand and trailed the tips of her fingers along one of his eyes, swollen nearly shut from a blow.

"You shouldn't have," she said in a soft whisper, letting tears streak down her cheeks. "Not for me."

Boris' swift intake of air was the only sound that hissed between them. He closed his eyes under her touch.

Do it, she urged.

"I am so"—she paused and sobbed—"so sorry." Her voice was small and breathless, heavy with sadness.

Boris settled a heavy, meaty palm on her hand, to keep her fingers unfurled on his cheek. "Forgive me, Irina. I couldn't let him say those ugly lies about you."

He is caving.

"Boris, please." She pleaded with him.

"I will do anything for you."

"I am a married woman."

"Why don't you leave him?"

She gasped. "I cannot. I pledged myself to him."

"But look how he treats you!"

"Borya," she said, using the nickname for Boris, "back in Russia, for every one like me, there are ten other girls, more beautiful, waiting to take my place."

"There isn't any woman more beautiful than you in all of Russia."

She smiled, making sure she displayed sadness and resolution on her features.

"You are such a sweet man." When he wasn't forcing underage girls into the cargo holds of boats docking out of most major European ports, plying them with drugs before supplying them like meat to brothels and sex perverts.

"Leave him," Boris said, the words a subtle urge.

"I can't. Where would I go?" She gently tugged her hand from under his and took a step closer to him. "I can't go back to that life, Borya."

"Irina, please—"

The sound of the door opening startled them. Nikolai stood on the threshold, his tall, dark form an intimidating silhouette in the dim doorway.

Kali threw one look at Boris, shook her head softly, and took a few steps away. The back of her knees hit the edge of the window seat. She stumbled backward into a sitting position on the upholstered ledge.

Nikolai's narrowed gaze went from Boris to her, and back to his right-hand man.

"Leave us," he said softly, the words obviously an order.

Boris nodded and exited the room.

Good—she’d sown the seeds of doubt. Her "husband" would wonder what went on between her and Boris, and Boris would try to get closer to her. She would play on this nearness between them, subtly make people wonder if something was happening behind Nikolai's back.

At that point, she would move her final chess piece—Nikolai would die at the same time as Boris. For the world, things would look like an altercation gone wrong between a spurned husband and a forbidden lover, with her caught in the crossfire. That's how she'd ensure her exit from the operation.

Yes, all the pieces of the game were falling into place. She just had to play along.

Nikolai closed the door behind Boris, the click of the latch falling into place sounding louder than it should have.

He turned toward her, pressed his shoulder against the doorframe, and pushed his hands into the pockets of his Gieves and Hawkes champagne-coloured, tailor-made linen trousers.

Her "husband" focused his steely grey eyes on her.

The stare burned into her skull. Still, she refused to look up. Not yet.

Bio:

Zee Monodee
Stories about love, life, relationships... in a melting-pot of culture
Zee is an author who grew up on a fence - on one side there was modernity and the global world, on the other there was culture and traditions. Putting up with the culture for half of her life, one day she decided she'd stand tall on her wall and dip toes every now and then into both sides of her non-conventional upbringing.
From this resolution spanned a world of adaptation and learning to live on said wall. The realization also came that many other young women of the world were on their own fence.
This particular position became her favorite when she decided to pursue her lifelong dream of writing - her heroines all sit 'on a fence', whether cultural or societal, in today's world or in times past, and face dilemmas about life and love.
Hailing from the multicultural island of Mauritius, Zee is a degree holder in Communications Science. She is married,mum to a tween son, & stepmum to a teenage lad.

Buy Links:

Before The Morning: An action/adventure, romantic suspense tale on the backdrop of a clandestine espionage agency - come read the story of Rayne, a spy who leaves that life in the name of love, & Ash, the man who changes her world!
https://www.nobleromance.com/Books/420/Before-the-Morning

FREE for this week: WALKING THE EDGE (Corpus Brides: Book 1): A romantic suspense novel, wherein an amnesiac woman is on the quest for her forgotten memory... Escape from London all the way to Marseille, France, and discover the secrets, deceit, danger, & the powerful love, she uncovers during her search!
https://www.nobleromance.com/Books/304/Walking-the-Edge 

Contact Links:

Blog: http://zeemonodee.blogspot.com/

Facebook & Goodreads: Zee Monodee

Twitter: @ZeeMonodee

Why I write

This question came up in a past interview, and I really never gave it much thought until I had an “author’s meltdown”. What’s an author’s meltdown. Well, it’s when we get frustrated with running in place, never seeming to get anywhere, or it feels that way. It’s like writer’s mid-life crisis.  I asked a friend, why am I doing this? I’ve dedicated time, energy, brain-cells and yet no amount of promotion, and hard work seems to be generating any different results.

Insanity:  Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. So, does that mean I’m crazy? After careful deliberation, a few stiff drinks, and a pity party with my editor, I’ve come to the conclusion I’m not.

Okay DL, you just said you keep doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results—and that is crazy. But hear me out, because instead of expecting different results, I’m hoping for them. What does that amount to? It means I have a dream, a vision for the future. Now that I resolved that I haven’t lost my mind, I can step back and look at why I’m really doing this.

I could give the standard, “Because the voices in my head told me to”, or perhaps this oldie but goodie, “I would go crazy if I couldn’t write”, but really, that’s not why, those are just symptoms of the obsession. I love to tell stories. I love to create worlds and characters, and I believe I always have.

Writing is like being a child all over again. Remember playing with your dolls or toy soldiers and building a world around them, giving them personalities, names and careers? They were real people to us. Often they had superpowers or the traits of heroes and heroines. I guess I can say I never grew up, not all the way. I still like playing in those make-believe worlds, except now, I do it a little differently, and I invite others to join me.

So what does that make me? I do it because it’s a dream—and I do it to create worlds to play in, and I’m doing it so others can see my fantasies. That makes me what, a dream-weaver? LOL Yeah that seventies song is playing in your head right now, isn’t it? We could call it dream sculpting I suppose, or a general contractor of adult play-lands. Yeah, I like that last one.

When I really thought about it, got to the meat of my obsession, I realized that sometimes adults need to play too. And sometimes we like lots of playmates. Because hey, it’s so much more fun to storm that castle with friends. And this is the reason I write, nothing complicated.

So if you write, why do you do it? Money? Success? Why do you really do it? Talk to me, because there is a little “dream weaver” in all of us.

So, I’ll leave you all with an invitation to come play in my worlds. The doors are open. Let’s storm the castle together. Better yet, let’s take a ride into space and land in the middle of a revolution. You might fall in love with an underground leader, or meet a Regulator sworn to uphold the law at all costs.

Blurb for Rebel Souls: 

"Good morning, Duchess.”

Born in the fires of revolution and baptized in the blood of those who fought for a better life, Captain Ava Frost smuggles illegal materials to a war machine that will someday free her people from an oppressive government.

A child of two worlds, Ava is bound to a heritage that won’t release her. While living on New Xiera, Ava meets Brodie Mark, a boy who will become a leader of the revolution, a man that will someday challenge her love and loyalties in every way imaginable.

Ten years pass, Ava crosses paths with Captain Seth Reynolds, a Regulator commander looking for a dangerous cargo of fissile materials. She falls for the enemy, endangering all the underground has struggled to achieve.

When Brodie Mark, a man she thought dead, walks back into Ava’s life, she must make a choice. The wrong one could kill her. The right choice could get her arrested and destroy a freedom in its infancy.

“No man flies three days to the edge of Nexian space without a reason.”

Have a great weekend!

D L

I'm editing, so here's an excerpt...

Yesterday I was busy working on edits for both of my upcoming May releases, so my mind is like mush. Instead of coming up with an interesting post, I thought I'd just share an excerpt with you from Satin Sheets in Space, which releases May 29 from Decadent Publishing. It is a M/F/M menage which is part of their 1Night Stand line.

Her partner for the evening pulled her close as the music slowed. “Thank the gods they changed the music. I need to be closer to you.”

Gods? A different religion, perhaps? She didn’t care. Desire coursed through her from head to toe. He could touch and taste every inch, without any objection from her.

He leaned down, his warm breath grazing her neck. Her nipples perked, pressed against his hard body.

“I noticed the galaxy on your shoulder.”

She sighed with disappointment, having expected him to kiss her. “Yes, I have a tattoo.”

Would a little ink stand in their way? She tried to pull away, to brace for his dismissal, but his hold on her never faltered.

“I like it. Why did you choose the Milky Way?”

Releasing the breath she’d been holding, Danyka smiled with relief. Her cheeks ached from the joy this man brought her. “It’s a tribute to my father. We’d often lie on the back lawn and watch the stars. He taught me about the constellations in our galaxy, and many other celestial bodies throughout the universe.”

A wave of sadness washed over her. She missed those moments, and her father.

Her date brushed his thumb along her cheek, bringing her attention back to him. “And what did he teach you about the possibility of other life—out in space?”

Did she really want to ruin this evening with talk of her belief in aliens? No.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

Oh hell. “He told me not to assume Earth is the only planet in the universe capable of sustaining life.”

“So you believe?”

“In a matter of speaking, yes.” There, she’d said it. Now watch him run. “But I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone from another world.”

His placed gentle kisses across her neck, lighting a fire deep in her core. “I believe, too.”

And if you want to see the smokin' cover for Satin Sheets in Space, head on over to Layna Pimentel's blog where I'm revealing it there.

Falling Into Science Fiction Romance by Pippa Jay

I’d never considered myself a romance writer. As a teenager, romance novels meant the shelf of Barbara Cartland paperbacks belonging to my mum. Things I read only out of desperation when there was nothing else left in the house and I’d already spent my pocket money on the last stack of books. They were mostly bodice-ripping historicals that frankly I didn’t understand. No, two years ago I was a straight scifi/fantasy writer with a preference for character-driven stories rather than loads of techy descriptions. Romance didn’t figure.

 The first indication I got that Keir might not be the scifi I’d defined it as came after my husband read the first draft and said it was good but not his kind of thing. He also declared that it was ‘mushy stuff for girls.’ (Yeah, he got slapped for that). But it wasn’t until a couple of friends had read it too that the comment ‘this is a romance’ came up.

Seriously? A romance? But I don’t write romance!

But the more I looked at it, the more I realized my own characters had pulled a fast one on me. It was a romance, and now a whole new range of possibilities opened up. Instead of submitting it as a science fiction story, I subbed it as an sfr (a sub-genre I hadn’t even been aware of despite being a fan of Anne McCaffrey) and got offered a contract. Woo hoo!

My editor wasn’t satisfied with the romance elements however. She made me strengthen that aspect of the story, and I learned a heck of a lot about romantic tension in the process. Now I don’t seem able to write any story without at least an element of romance in it, but I’m happy with that.

So I’m proud to call myself an sfr author, and to be a part of that community of writers, with thanks to those who pointed me in the right direction with my story. “To infinity and beyond (with a kiss).”

So what makes a good science fiction romance story for you? A simple ‘will they/won’t they’ storyline? A love story set against galactic conquest? Love that’s doomed to fail? Please tell me in the comments (with your contact details) and I’ll choose a random winner to receive an e-book copy of Keir. And there’s more! To celebrate the official release date on the 7th May I’m offering a special prize over on my blog here, open internationally. You can also see the full list of blogs for the Keir Book Tour for more chances to win. All prize draws will take place after midnight BST in the UK on the 14th May. Good luck!

If you can’t wait to find out if you’re a winner, all new titles at Lyrical Press Inc are 30% off for the first week after release.

Keir - a science-fiction romance available 7th May 2012 from Lyrical Press Inc:

Blurb:

Outcast. Cursed. Dying. Is Keir beyond redemption?

For Keirlan de Corizi--the legendary 'Blue Demon' of Adalucien--death seems the only escape from a world where his discolored skin marks him as an oddity and condemns him to life as a pariah. But salvation comes in an unexpected guise: Tarquin Secker, a young woman who can travel the stars with a wave of her hand. 

But Quin has secrets of her own. She's spent eternity searching through space and time with a strange band of companions at her back. Defying her friends' counsel, Quin risks her apparent immortality to save Keir. She offers him sanctuary and a new life on her home world, Lyagnius.

When Keir mistakenly unleashes his dormant alien powers and earns instant exile from Quin's home world, will she risk everything to stand by him again?

Author Bio:

A stay-at-home mum of three who spent twelve years working as an Analytical Chemist in a Metals and Minerals laboratory, Pippa Jay bases her stories on a lifetime addiction to science-fiction books and films. Somewhere along the line a touch of romance crept into her work and refused to leave. Besides torturing her characters, she spends the odd free moments trying to learn guitar, indulging in freestyle street dance and drinking high-caffeine coffee. Although happily settled in historical Colchester in the UK with her husband of 18 years, she continues to roam the rest of the Universe in her head.

Links: 

Blogsite: http://pippajay.blogspot.com/
Twitter: @pippajaygreen http://twitter.com/pippajaygreen
Facebook: 
Keir - Beyond Redemption (book page) https://www.facebook.com/pages/Keir-Beyond-Redemption/114058821953752
Pippa Jay (profile) https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001581482219
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5054558.Pippa_Jay

 Book trailer:

To celebrate two of my upcoming releases in June, that are science fiction romance, Rebel Souls and Courtesan Boot Camp, I'm going to be blogging about all things science fiction for my next few posts. Today I wanted to talk about some of the fun and interesting things I picked up while researching my novels.

When I research my science fiction romance novels, I always come across some interesting things you don’t think about when you’re grounded on Terra Firma. Here’s a few.

The stronger the gravity, the faster you age. So in theory, the further off a planet you are, the longer you’ll stay young. Anyone for an extended trip to the moon?

If two pieces of metal touch in space, they will permanently bond together. Wonder if that would help with the patching of a ship’s hull. Hmmm. Instant welding. Got some possibilities there.

The Earth gains 100 tons every day from falling space dust. And one has to wonder just what is in that space dust raining down on us. Another plot possibility.

Venus is the only planet in our galaxy that rotates clockwise. My husband says that’s just like a woman. Pthhhhhhhh. Hey, it seems the only planet going in the right direction, is named after a woman. Sound familiar?

If you go into space unprotected, you will last approximately 1.5 minutes without permanently damaging your body. After that, things get ugly. On a side note, holding your breath in space with kill you, as gases in your lungs expand. Also, moisture evaporates away rapidly, so you’d be more likely to get sunburned than flash frozen. The only man who suffered exposure in space and lived to talk about it, described the moisture on his tongue boiling away.

Astronauts can’t burp in space. Wonder if it’s the same for passing of “other” gas? Considering the close quarters on a shuttle, this is a blessing indeed. That’s going out to all the women who have had their men roll up car windows and lock them while they turn the vehicle’s cab into a stink bomb. (I know I’m not the only one who’s experienced this atrocity. Am I?)

There are two golf balls on the moon. Not real green, but hey, I bet they got some distance on that drive.

Some asteroids have other asteroids orbiting them. I find this both scary and fascinating. Scary that there are asteroids out there big enough to have their own gravitational field, and fascinating in that they have a gravitational field and could be landed on, in theory, just like they did in the movies. Go Bruce Willis.

Okay, ready for some science and excerpts?

Courtesan Boot Camp ~
Release date June 27th, 2012

She stopped in front of the tall door and stared at it for several seconds before she found her courage. Shay cleared her throat. “Open,” she spoke in her most commanding tone. Stepping forward on instinct, she smacked face first into the hard surface, which had failed to vaporize as expected.

Shay reached up and rubbed the tip of her nose. What kind of freaking planet is this?

She poked it and cleared her throat. “Open.” The door didn’t move. Shay glanced around for a button, or something, anything to activate the mechanism that opened it. Lever? Fuck. Nothing but a round thingy. She bit her lip again. Certainly nothing as primitive as….

You have to turn the round thingy, honey. This time Milos’s voice came through by brainwave, telepathy, or whatever he was using to annoy the shit out of her.

“Stay out of my head.”

Turn the knob. Open the door. It’s not rocket science.“I know rocket science. I don’t need your instructions.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“You’re an asshole!”

“Nice language.”

Shay lifted her chin to look in the face of…dear gods. Dark hair, green eyes, strong jaw and chin. The man standing in the doorway had looks that would melt a woman where she stood. And she’d just called him an asshole, or he thought she did. Her mouth dropped open.

Outside of the Ruellan prince, he had to be the most attractive man she’d ever seen, and even then, he might even be more handsome than Tavin. He had a good four inches on her, making her five feet nine feel petite. The tall drink of Dominus wore loose-fitting pants like her martial arts instructors, and no shirt, unlike her martial arts instructors.

On his chest he bore a tattoo of a Ruellan military insignia from a spec-ops unit made up of Toric soldiers—for-hire mercenaries. The tattoo, a dragon-like creature known an avenger, whipped its tail around, moving across the surface of his skin through a nanite-infusing technology. The nanites were housed in microscopic beads that made up the ink used by the artist. They were programmed to change the color inside each bead, going from clear to any hue in the spectrum within a micro-second, creating a moving picture that could travel from head to toe on its host, if the person had been tattooed in that manner. A lengthy and painful process, Shay had only ever seen pictures of it before.

The avenger opened its mouth as though it were roaring, and slipped down his chest, across his abs in a serpent-like, undulating motion, sliding back up onto the opposite shoulder, where it wrapped its tail around his arm before freezing in place.

It was not uncommon for a Toric to be tattooed in such a manner. The general population of the mongrels had a touch of sadism, making her wonder if what Milos told her were true—that he didn’t like anyone.

Most Toric were mixed breeds, with roots on every planet in the galaxy. Full-blooded Torics were rare and most often were advisors to royalty, or like the little asshole, Milos, close to the royals.

And dear gods, abs like that really existed in more than airbrushed images in holo-mags. Her head began to spin and Shay grabbed his arm to keep from swooning.

He glanced down at her hand and back up to her face. “I hope your manners are better than I’ve seen thus far.”

She yanked her hand off. Heat flushed through her body, certainly turning her a nice cherry red. Again, an inappropriate response for a Ruellan courtesan. “Oh shit.” Followed by another—she was making a stellar impression.

The corner of his mouth twitched. Are you coming inside?

She sucked in a breath and stepped inside. Fantastic, another mind-reader. “Dayne?”

“At your service.”

Ah, tattoos that move by nanite. Wonder if it travels to other places on his body? To find out, check out the story releasing June 27th.

Rebel Souls ~
Release date June 1st, 2012

“Ava!” Uncle Theo barked above the alarms. Ozone rolled across the deck, and overhead lights blinked on and off with a buzzing pop, creating a strobe effect. “A little help here. We’ve got a League destroyer off our port bow.”

“I’m working on a plan B.” The destroyer had already fired once. The shot clipped their hull close enough to start a fire in the forward control panel. The deck erupted into chaos, and the crew scrambled to extinguish the flames before they spread through the oxygen-saturated environment.

“You better move.”

“Going as fast as I can.” A holographic dome encased her, providing a three-hundred and sixty degree view of her controls, readouts, everything she’d need to get them out of the situation they were in. Uncle Theo was right. None of it was worth a damn if she didn’t out-maneuver them, and quick. Captain Ava Frost spun her seat and hit the navigation charts. A blip on the dome indicated the Avira, her ship, had moved within range of League cannons, more than confirmed by the shot from the Regulator vessel. The next one would punch a hole in the Avira’s bow, and they’d crumple like foil if she didn’t get her ionic shields up. “I see her.”

“They’ve got backup. Two off the starboard.”

“Fantastic. They want to make it interesting.” Ava whirled the other way and brought up the schematics of their ships. “Got them. Make that four League Destroyers. We still got a buddy on the other side of that wormhole.” She eyed the screen. Too much attention for a small time smuggler. “What are they all doing here? They don’t normally patrol together.” Whatever it was couldn’t be good. From the grim expression on her uncle’s face, he’d come to the same conclusion. If they wanted to get out of this alive, they’d need to lose them.

And she’d investigate later. Ava ignored the wailing alarms and the burning in her throat and eyes. She had to focus, or they were done. Her uncle never surrendered his ship, so there wasn’t a question as to what she’d do. It was the how she hadn’t figured out.

No, the destroyer wasn’t docking with her ship, and they sure as hell weren’t boarding. The Galactic Regulators, pit bulls brought in by the United League of Planets to enforce law in League space, had locked on to their position, and it would only be a matter of moments before they made link and demands. Of all the police forces out there in the universe, they were up against the most highly trained and diverse group of law enforcement. Every world with membership in the ULP sent their top candidates to train and serve as League Regulators. Most Regulators came from military backgrounds in special operations and thrived in hostile environments, looking for trouble wherever they could find it. There would be little she could do to surprise them, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying.

Her favorite part.

So, what are some of your favorite science authors have employed in science fiction romance? From Warp drives to holo rooms and cyborgs, is there anything that comes to mind? 

Have a great weekend.

D L 

Mech Man blog tour: Interview with L.J. Garland

I'd like to welcome L.J. Garland to the blog today. (For those who don't know, L.J. Garland is a husband and wife writing team.)

LJG: Thank you for having us here today! We’re looking forward to the interview.

It's a pleasure. Can you tell us how long you've been writing with the hopes of publication?

LJG: We wrote for about five years before getting published. The first story was enormous…like 240K or something crazy like that. Yeah, it’s in a drawer, locked away. LOL But the next two stories were more realistic, coming in around 80K. They both got sold around the same time. But during those five years of writing, we studied the craft like crazy. Heck, we’re still studying it. This business tends to be fluid, so you have to watch what’s happening.

How did you get started?

LJG: Hmm, well, it wasn’t until I met my husband that the bug really bit. This story idea just jumped into my head, and I came home from work one day and said, “Honey, I want to write a book.” He was like, “Okay.” We discussed the plot and characters, the setting, etc. until we both agreed (we were on the same page <g>) So, off I went to write the first few chapters. Around chapter five, I decided to stop and show him what I’d done. I’ll tell you, there’s nothing so intense as sitting by, gnawing your nails, while the man you love reads what you wrote. Course later he told me that he’d been just as nervous. Before he ever read the first word, he wondered how he would tell me if it sucked. LOL  We’ve been writing together ever since.

What genres do you write in, and what appeals to you about those genres?

LJG: We write romantic suspense, sci-fi romance, paranormal romance, time travel romance. We love them all. There’s two things that appeal: 1. the romance genre itself leaves the door open for any genre 2. All of these set the stage for an excellent chance to blow something up. LOL We love high-action stories, lots of peril, and an intense relationship between the hero and heroine.

What titles do you have published? 

LJG: On the Fringes – He’s an intergalactic thief. She’s the law. He’ll cross the universe to steal her heart. (SFR)
Cadence Interrupted – He knows she’s keeping secrets. The only thing she trusts are her skills as a pilot. (romantic suspense)
MechMan – She wants revenge. He wants to be human. (SFR)

Do you have any recent or upcoming releases?

LJG: Dead or Alive – Accused of murder, he turns to the only person who can save him. Too bad she’s a bounty hunter who holds a grudge. (Decadent Publishing, 1Night Stand, SFR – May 5)
Sins of the Mind – He wants to protect her, but everyone she loves is dying. Is he next on the killer’s list?


Where can readers find you?


LJG: We can be tracked down at www.lj-garland.com. Or we can be caught at http://www.garland-and-gould.blogspot.com/ where we blog, chat about stuff, and interview other authors. Or, we can be emailed at mail@lj-garland.com - We love hearing from people who have enjoyed our stories.

Where can readers find your books?

LJG: On the Fringes –  Kindle

Cadence Interrupted –  Kindle

MechMan – Paperback / Ebook

Dreamspell Revenge – Paperback / Kindle / Ebook

Dead or Alive – May 5 from Decadent Publishing
Sins of the Mind – May 20 from Decadent Publishing

Mech Man blurb:

Raven is on a suicide mission. Jex is a biomech on a mission to save humanity. They discover their mutual passion to destroy the enemy isn’t their only desire.

A war against the Darch has raged for years, and humanity is on the verge of extinction. Scientists have created biomechs to supplement as warriors, but it’s just a temporary fix on what appears an insurmountable problem. One desperate scientist injects JXS241, a biomech warrior, with what he hopes is the solution for mankind’s survival. But the biomech is captured by the enemy.

Raven Nirvanni survives on the fringes of a shattered culture. While on a self-imposed suicide mission to annihilate an enemy destroyer, she encounters the imprisoned biomech. Deciding the fate of humanity far outweighs the destruction of a single ship, she recues him and decides to ensure he reaches his destination.

With the enemy anticipating their every move, Raven is completely taken aback when she realizes she’s falling for JXS241. But can she really love a machine? And if so, can he reciprocate?

Excerpt:

The needle slid between the third and fourth vertebrae in his neck. A flash of heat shot through him. More pressure was exerted to penetrate the synthetic cartilage of his neurospine.

Accessing his internal response center, he raised the pain threshold, but not so high he couldn’t monitor the procedure. Immobile, he waited for it to be finished.

“Done.” The doctor stepped back. “JXS241, system check?”

“No change,” he said, and reset his pain threshold. “As you said, Doctor Mechins. Just a pinch.”

“Good.” The doctor made a note on his techpad. “There are three biomechs just outside the lab, waiting to escort you and the information I implanted into your neurospine to the planet Altaiga.”

“Give me a ship, doctor. I’ll get myself to Altaiga.” Taking three biomechs away from the war to act as escort was a waste of resources.

“The information you carry is critical to the war effort.” Dr. Mechins tapped the techpad. “You’ll take the escort.”

JXS241 rose from his chair. The decision was illogical, but sometimes humans determined situations based on feelings rather than sound military strategy. He yanked a black shirt over his head and shrugged into his military-issue jacket.

The science lab shook, equipment toppled, and assorted paraphernalia crashed to the floor. Alarms barked to life, an alert that the base was under attack. Dr. Mechins’ reserved manner morphed to terror. His gaze rolled toward the ceiling.

“They’ve discovered us.” He grabbed JXS241’s arm, dragged him to the lab door. “You’ve got to get out of here. Take the other biomechs, commandeer a ship, and get to Altaiga. The fate of humanity may very well depend on you.”

JXS241 stepped through the doorway. Three heavily armed escorts awaited him. One shoved a pulse rifle into his hands. He grasped the familiar weapon, glanced at it, and toggled the setting to kill.  

“Wait.” The doctor clutched his shoulder. “You may notice some changes—”

The lab exploded. Hot twisted metal and glass missiled through the air, spiking everything in its path. A rush of heat shoved Dr. Mechins against JXS241, and they tumbled into the outer hallway.

Hands grabbed the biomech, lifted him to his feet, and propelled him away from the lab. On the floor lay the doctor, ripped metal and shards of glass jutting from his back, blood pooling beneath him.

“Medic required at lab, level seven,” the tallest biomech said into his com-band. His gaze shifted from the doctor to JXS241. “In line, soldier. Primary objective is to obtain a ship and fly out.”

JXS241 moved behind the other biomechs, and they hastened to the hangar where pilots scrambled to their fighters.

Scattered throughout the bay, sparks of light appeared and stretched into beings. Six-and-a-half to seven-foot men and women materialized. Graced with flaxen hair, and beatific smiles, immense gossamer wings protruded from their backs. With a serene facade they surveyed the hangar.

The enemy had arrived.

Author Bio:

L.J. Garland is a husband-wife writing team who has thrived within their own romance for over 20 years. One of their favorite things to do is get into a hot bubble bath and brainstorm story ideas. Amid their long list of hobbies and interests, two activities stand above the rest. They are both licensed helicopter pilots with hundreds of hours of flight time, and they practice with a variety of weaponry from long bows to high-powered combat rifles. This, along with years of military experience, gives their books a heightened sense of reality. They enjoy their life together in a house filled with love, laughter, and adventure along with their three cats, whistling guinea pig, and three boisterous sons—who conspire to ensure there’s never a dull moment. They love hearing from readers who’ve enjoyed their stories at mail@lj-garland.com.

For more of the interview, pleases visit http://jessicasubject.com on May 23.

Sexy? - Guest post by Kashif Ross, author of Barcode: Legend of Apollo

*Warning* I'm a no makeup, lingerie, talk a little dirty, and tell me exactly how you want it type of guy. So when I'm blunt and honest, don't be surprised. I just call it how I see it.

Yeah. I want to go there. I want to define sexy because too many people try reaching such a prestigious goal, but fail miserably. What the hell is sexy?

Sexy is what you make it, right? Kind of.

From my experience, I've learned that women define it. No matter how many theories a guy comes up with, we'll all listen to women in the end. Women are the Greek goddesses of hot & steamy. From your curves to soft and gentle areas, you are erotic. Well...you were.

Once upon a time, I thought everything was sexy. I could see the true allure in the world and appreciated the uniqueness of life. But I can't do that anymore. I'm married. I've set my standards and realized that sexuality has become saturated.

There are pole dancing classes, unique lingerie, sex toys, photo shoots, body paint, skinny jeans, workout videos, and a heap of other tools...all made to help you become sexy. Though there are so many options, everything that is enticing looks the same now. Why? You've been programmed.

I'm not going to get into some political babble, but not enough people explore various realms of sensuality and seduction. Too many people look at Kim Kardashian, Angelina Jolie, Zoe Saldana, Rihanna, Chris Brown, Fifty Cent, The Rock, or Bradley Cooper. After analyzing these stars, people work at becoming just like them.

Pardon me, but screw them. No star or one person defines sexy. Taking pictures of your body in the mirror ain't cuttin' it. Sexting...are you serious? Booty shots--especially if you have no butt at all--not cute. Amateur porn? Stop or I'll shoot you.

There is no privacy anymore. There's no mystique or allure. Nowadays, sexy is defined by how much you put out. How much you can show off.

That's not me. That's not sexy.

Attraction is meant to be mental warfare. Every writer knows this. If you want to turn a reader on, add sexual tension. Don't reveal too much. Let it play out in the reader's mind. The more explicit you are, the less you allow the reader to fill in the blanks.

If you want to be sexy, you need to become an author of your own life. Let your viewer wonder. Let thoughts of you fester in their brain until it explodes. You want them to overflow with intrigue.

Stop giving it away for free! The more you expose, the less they wonder. Eventually, curiosity will vanish and they'll simply want the final product.

So women, until you get sexy back on the right track, I'm stealing your defining rights. You're not sexy until you're like a good book--full of mystery, twists and turns. By the way, having a good cover helps.

Barcode: Legend of Apollo blurb:

Spencer's an infamously well-known “god” uninterested in his own fate. He turns nineteen-years-old on the first day of his last year at Colt Academy, the academic institution for gladiators. To celebrate, he unwillingly mentors a mysterious nerd, watches his family's helicopter plunge into the ground, and meets a strange Louisianan boy that may want to kill him. With the future of his family's fortune on the line, Spencer not only has to fight the occasional trip to Hades, but also train with his most hated childhood friend, discover the truth about his mother's death, and reestablish his legend as America's savior.

Barcode: Legend of Apollo excerpt:

I’m such a failure.

My instructors say I’m the first of the bloodline that isn’t naturally a top ranking student. Therefore, professors are inclined to boost my grades in order to keep “the great Apollo” at the top of his class.

I apologize dear ancestors. I will honor you by falling on my sword.

Damn. I don’t have a weapon yet. Give me a few days, folks.

I find a seat on a stone bench next to a small pond and watch as several lizard-fish swim and crawl through the shallow water. One has the flesh of a koi fish but the body of a garden lizard. The gold and black colors blur as my heavy eyes close and my head drops. I’m still jet-lagged.

As I open my eyes, a sharp kick lands between my ribs. Before my attacker can remove her foot, I grab it tightly and swing her into the pool.

The plague sitting in front of me with her butt dipped in an inch of water, and her arms folded neatly around her legs, just so happens to call herself Hannah’s best friend, though I knew her long before the two met.

This tomboy has a kick that’s out of this world. Her barcodes are powered by the goddess Atalanta. Every god and demigod has a code that they’re born with. That’s what separates us from Apes and humans. Some gods bond well with their bodies, while others pump so much power into their flesh that they can hardly stand. Ever. It can be a gift or a curse.

“You got my panties wet, jerk.”

“Why would a boy wear panties?”

“Don’t call me a boy, you ugly pig.”

“You walk like one, talk like one, but wait, you kick like a girl,” I tease, but my ribs scream in pain. Even more, I’m defiantly conscious that Michelle’s beauty competes closely with the most attractive girl on campus, Hannah. Still, she and I are mortal enemies that will one day battle to her death.

I’ve seen these visions in my sleep. Any morning I wake up after slaying her just so happens to be a great day. Yes. I’m very aware that many people consider these dreams, but if they are prophetic, The Writer does truly love me.

“What does Hannah see in you?”

“What do you mean? She said that in our first year you always gushed over my blue eyes, and wouldn’t stop raving about my face.” I watch the wicked witch’s eyes nearly leap out of their sockets, and her face turns pale. If the tattoos on her legs shine, I’ll need to flee for my own safety. “Geez. You look so upset; I almost think it’s true.”

Author Bio:

For the past three years, Kashif Ross has been mainly known as a teacher. Yet, he's managed to pick up very random titles along the way. Previous jobs include Student Molecular Oncology Researcher, Camp Counselor, CGI Animator, Character Designer, and Professional Geek.

Now he's an author living in California's Bay Area. You can find posts about his random thoughts and adventures on his blog, www.kashifross.com.

Website / Facebook / Goodreads

Exclusive Cover Reveal - The Power of Three

I'm so excited to reveal the cover of The Power of Three, an upcoming release with Decadent Publishing, as part of their new erotica Edge line. This is my first paranormal romance, but it can be classed as scifi romance as well.

So, here's a little about the story first:

Cursed to live amongst several stone gargoyle statues, Oscar watches a young couple, yearning to participate in their sexual activities. For he has been away from his own lovers for over a year, and longs to touch and be touched again.

When he tumbles off the headboard onto the couple, he is released from the statue but must find a way home. His only thought: a ménage with the man and woman who freed him. But will they try something new to grant him his return passage, or leave him wandering Earth alone?

And here's the cover:

What do you think?

Also, if you didn't get a chance to see the cover reveal of the four launch stories for Decadent Publishing's new erotic science fiction romance line, Elatia, hop on over to The Galaxy Express to check them out!

http://www.thegalaxyexpress.net/2012/04/cover-reveal-exclusive-decadent.html