Degree of Resistance

AmazonBestsellerThey turned the man she loved into a machine. Now she’s going to prove that he’s still human…

In the post-apocalyptic Pacifica Protectorate, cyber tech Evie Contreras and military officer Ben Drake are newly engaged when Ben is killed in an accident. Grief-stricken, Evie throws herself into her work until she finds an impossible image—Ben, still alive and working as a mind-wiped cyborg guard for a luxurious resort.

Determined to rescue Ben, Evie accepts an offer of help from a shadowy resistance organization. In return, she must retrieve an AI holding vital climate information from Pacifica’s capital. With a vengeful protectorate closing in, can Evie and Ben reconnect with each other and protect the Earth from a deadly new disaster?

Excerpt available here.

  • Science Fiction Romance, MF
  • Word Count: 80,000
  • Heat Level: 4
  • Published By: Belaurient Press

Content Advisory


“Beautiful, fluid with whipsmart technology, and good to the core. Nicola M. Cameron has given us a fast-paced, heart-tugging cyber-romance that I couldn’t stop reading. A deeply satisfying book for fans of cyberpunk, science fiction, and romance alike.”
– Cecilia Tan, RT Award-winning author of Slow Surrender

Rated Five Stars. “If you like the Westworld series, dystopian stories, or just cyborgs in general, this will be an enjoyable read.”
– Whiskey With My Book

Rated Five Stars. “This is exceptionally well written…the story is intriguing, with lots of twists and turns to keep your interest.”
– Archaeolibrarian

Rated Five Stars. “No word was wasted, and every scene felt absolutely necessary to drive the story forward…I cannot WAIT for book two so I can learn what happens.”
– L.T., Amazon review

Where to Buy

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Apple | Kobo | Google Play | Smashwords | Print


“Let me see you, Ben.”

Without a word he loosened the knot in the towel and let it fall.

He reminded her of a da Vinci nude she’d once seen, every muscle developed without unnecessary bulk and giving the impression of restrained power. His chest was the same from her memories at the pool, beautifully shaped pads of pectoral muscle and shoulders ending in curved deltoids that she wanted to grip. The same light scattering of blond chest hair narrowed to a trail that led down over trim abs to his navel and beyond.

His legs were those of a runner, lean muscle and tendon rising in powerful mounds at the backs of his calves, along the length of his thighs. The hair covering them was sparser, only slightly darker than the hair on his chest, and curled against his indoor-pale skin.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at his groin. The hair darkened here, turning sandy brown and curling in a springy nest around a well-shaped cock, neatly circumcised. It had thickened a little, judging from the way it stood out from his body, but wasn’t anywhere near full erection yet.

He laughed softly. “You should see your face. You look like all your birthdays and Christmases came at once.”

“I think they just did.” There were no scars, no signs that any part of his body was artificial. “You’re perfect.”

He glanced down at himself. “I think you may be a little biased, but thank you.” His pupils expanded, compressing all the light blue into a thin ring around each black pool. “Besides, you’re the one who’s perfect.”

He came to her and knelt, gently urging her knees apart so that he could move closer. Her heart raced as he loosened the belt on her robe, letting it fall to each side. The terrycloth gaped open, putting her on display the same way he’d done for her.

He didn’t say anything for a minute as he drank her in. The nervousness she’d felt earlier was gone, banished by the naked worship in his eyes. “You’re everything I ever wanted.” His voice was husky. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

She fought back the sudden urge to cry from sheer relief. “Kiss me. Please.”

He did, his chest pressing against her breasts as he slid the robe down her arms, his mouth devouring hers. She surrendered to the delicious sensation, every brush and teasing press lighting up her nerve endings like wildfire. When his tongue trailed along the soft inner flesh of her lips she opened them, welcoming him in. Between her thighs an echoing heat began to build.

It was the night in the front seat of the GoCar all over again, but this time they didn’t have to stop. And it was much better than the evening in the park hotel because now he knew who she was, who he was.

His tongue danced around hers before breaking away to lick at the roof of her mouth. A shocking pulse of pure sensation ran through her body and she moaned into his mouth.

She broke away for a necessary breath and heard him chuckle. “Okay, so I like that,” she muttered, amused by his smugness.

“Good. I like making you moan, baby. Plan on doing a lot of it, to be honest.”

Graphic by Lynn Turner