This is a blog hop. Be sure to check the link at the bottom to see posts from other authors!
Blurb:
DAT agent Susan McAllister escapes Earth with killers in hot pursuit. She normally runs toward danger not away, and she likes controlling her own fate, not relying on three strange men and an irreverent cyberbot. Skilled and experienced, she doesn’t believe there’s any way the three crewmen of the cargo ship Erik’s Pryde can help her.
Captain John Erik thinks the sexy, headstrong passenger is nothing but trouble, but he also knows she needs help. And not being men to shrink from adventure, he’s convinced that he and his crew are the ones to provide it. When they’re infected by an illegal drug that releases inhibitions, the crew of the Pryde shows they are men who not only can fight, but can satisfy a woman’s every fantasy.
It’s no surprise when Susan discovers that being a member of the Pryde’s crew has unexpected, lasting benefits.
This is a futuristic space romp!
Buy link:
Excerpt:
The smell hit Susan McAllister first. The sharp scent of iron, immediately recognizable, stung her nostrils and madeher gag. Then she noticed the door, normally locked at all times, hung open a crack.
She’d been ready to call out that she’d brought back French pastries from the restaurant where she enjoyed an early lunch but instead dropped the white bakery bag on the back steps. Removing her Renthaur X-89 laser pistol from her oversized shoulder bag, she inched forward and released the safety. She eased open the door and stepped inside and then pushed it nearly closed. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust from sunlight to the dim interior.
The office fronted as a real estate agency but actually served as Centre District’s Domestic Anti-Terrorism headquarters. Susan had arrived that morning from the global headquarters in Mt. Saussat. In fact, if not for the fact that she never ate while flying and wanted an early lunch upon arrival, she would have been here for whatever shit had gone down.
Hugging the wall, she edged toward the workroom where her close friend and office manager, Lisle Hamilton, had set up the hologram generator, coffeepot, and storage shelving that helped form their cover of handling real estate. Behind an encrypted-lock vault door and out of sight, secure phones and code-deciphering, sub-particle computers were used for the real business of the storefront.
The Centre City office took a lot of ribbing in the Agency because of their cover. The joke was, what’s more boring than a DAT agent on desk duty? A realtor. What’s deadly boring? A DAT gent on desk duty posing as a realtor.
Deadly boring? The overwhelming scent of blood seemed to prove it. Criminy. What in hell happened?
Susan dropped to a crouch at the corner where the back hall entered the workroom. Pistol aimed up and grasped with two hands in classic shooter pose, she slowly leaned forward and peeked into the workroom.
Blood had begun to congeal where it covered the floor. Mark Nichols, who she’d just met that morning, lay on his back, his right hand inside his jacket pocket as though reaching for his weapon. Anne Barnewell lay face down. The size of the hole in the back of her head indicated a Succher 380, the weapon of choice for big-time drug dealers.
Also for cops’ personal weapons. The thought ran quickly through her mind and left just as fast.
The workroom connected to the main office by a swinging door of louvered wood, reminiscent of mid-twentieth-century architecture. From under the door she saw the body of Kyle Angustino, the son of one of Lisle’s friends and an actual real estate intern who had nothing to do with the DAT. Six people worked in the office, including Kyle, five of whom were DAT agents. Susan had no hope any of them were alive unless, like her, they’d been out of the office when hell struck.
The place appeared to be empty, but Susan didn’t change her position. Instead, she examined everything in her line of sight and listened with an intensity that had her shoulders tight with tension. Peering along the wall to the left she scrunched her brows in worry. The vault door stood ajar.
The only person in the office who had the combination was Lisle. A woman’s foot extended out the door, her burgundy shoe half-off. Lisle!
Her friend had bragged about the “killer burgundy pumps with little gold bows” when Susan had called to make arrangements to use one of the office cubicles for the week she would be in Centre City. They’d gone through Agency training together, and their paths crossed regularly. Later she would grieve for Lisle, but right now she needed to keep her wits about her and her emotions in check.
The bell over the front door tinkled, indicating someone entering from the street. A woman said, “Here’s a box for—Oh, dear God, what is this? What’s going on here?” There was no answer. Then, “No, please, no! Oh—”
Susan heard the unmistakable sound of the Succher firing and then a loud noise as something fell to the floor.
“What the hell?” A man pushed the vault door farther open. All that showed was a cuff-linked, white-shirted arm and a hand with long fingers. “What’s going on out there?”
“Nothing,” came a male voice from the front. “I didn’t have the keys to lock the door. I thought pulling the blinds would be enough to make people think we were closed. Forgot about delivery people.”
“Goddamn it. Go through Hamilton’s purse, for Christ’s sake, and find the keys.”
“Okay,” the guy in the front grumbled.
“Jesus, I have to do everything,” Vault Man said.
Susan pulled back. The lead guy knew Lisle’s name. Because he knew her or because of information gleaned while there? And how did he know about the vault room? Had he come to the office because of it, or had he and his buddy happened into the office and thought the heavy door hid more than it did? She dismissed that idea right away because really, who in the world robbed a realtor’s office? So, assuming they already knew about the vault and Lisle, the conclusion was ominous—the murderers were associated with DAT.
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I couldn’t wait to vote! It was something to aspire to, like getting my driver’s license or going away to school. So the very first election after turning 21 I voted, by golly, and I haven’t missed a presidential election yet. I admit that I don’t always vote in local elections, and that’s because as adults, Jack and I moved so much I never got involved enough to find out who was running and what they stood for. But even when we were on the road trucking—through two presidential elections—we made sure to vote absentee.
forming the U.S. government. The electoral college makes sure that states like where I live have a say in who becomes president, just like the big states. If not for it, the states with high populations would always determine our president. They decided on a representative form of government. And then they left it up to the people to elect their representatives. It’s our responsibility to do so or the system falls apart.
I love (love, LOVE!) reading. Some books haven’t been really great, but a lot have been. So many stories have occupied my mind long after reading them, for the characters or the lyrical writing or something I can’t quite put my finger on. But it’s not very often I go back and re-read them. In fact, off the top of my head, I can only think of two books I’ve re-read. Well, four I guess, but three are of the same series.
writing style, but then she wove a tight, exciting sci fi/fantasy adventure romance that kept me glued to the book from start to finish. In fact…I kinda want to read it again now.
Remember that song, Red Sails in the Sunset? Probably not unless you’re as old as dirt, like me. I always liked it, though. So romantic, watching a sailing ship in the sunset as it sets out on the ocean. The sails are billowing and catching the last rays of the sun. There is adventure there. There is a dream. There is the wide sea and endless stars during the night. But there is NOT me.
thanks to corona virus, no one can cruise right now. But even in the happiest of times, no way would you get me on a cruise ship. I’m happy for those who do enjoy the voyage. More power to you! I understand lots of people have already signed up for when ships set sail again. For me, I’ll happily wave goodbye from the shore!
Excerpt:
Are you the sort of person who plans every detail of a trip? Or one who takes off with only vague ideas of where you want to stay each night on the way to your destination? Do you even have a destination? Of course, traveling for fun and traveling for business are two different things. I want to talk here about vacationing.
were living in Virginia but of course had trucked extensively in the western states she wanted to see. She pulled out a map and started at the Grand Canyon, then worked her way up through Utah, Colorado, and into the Dakotas. We worked at a school and had the summer off, so I said, “That will be a great month-long trip, You’ll have fun!” “A month?” she said. “We’re doing this in two weeks. I have every minute planned.” Wow! They came back exhausted but I guess had spent at least ten minutes at each attraction, lol. They had fun, and that’s all that really counted. But that’s not the way Jack and I roll. As they say, different strokes for different folks!
What’s in an Award? Maybe just what you need to keep going.
contest and then won?
Series: Sea of Love
Book: 
won awards with their work (but were to shy to say so here). Some writers there maybe haven’t won an award award, but they’ve received recognition for their writing in other ways, through great sales or love notes from their fans and such. An award doesn’t matter that much in the long run. It’s the love of the readers and the joy of being able to do what we love. Those are awards enough.