Category Archives: Degree of Resistance
Wednesday musings on writing
It occurred to me earlier today that I’ve been working professionally in the writing dodge (and by professionally I mean people have given me money in exchange for my words) for about twenty-two years, now. My writing career can legally drink, if not rent a car. Which is probably for the best, if you think about it.
So while I may bitch and moan about sales at times, in retrospect I’m actually pretty happy with where I’ve gotten to at this point. Between my SF and romance names (by the way, you all DO know that I write science fiction and urban fantasy as Melanie Fletcher, right?) I have seven full-length novels, three novellas, two novelettes, and twenty-six short stories to my credit. That’s not bad at all, especially since I’ll be bringing out at least another three novels this year as well as more novellas and short stories.
And not only have I been publishing, but I’ve been gifted with a fiercely devoted band of readers (you know who you are, and you are all in the will), plus I’ve been getting critical attention for my work. Night Owl Reviews just did an interview with me, and the lovely and talented Cynthia Sax will also have an interview on Degree of Resistance up on her website soon. So, yeah, I’ve actually done pretty well in my career so far (take that, Imposter Syndrome!).
Fabulous, I hear you say, but why are you babbling at us about this? Well, 1) because I can, and 2) it helps to work out what I’m going to do next. This year I’ve decided to concentrate on leveling up to the next professional step; namely, increasing my readership, shooting for a USA Today bestseller list slot, and maybe even winning an award or two (although I’m reminded of the fact that Sir Terry Pratchett, he of the insanely successful and brilliant Discworld series, never won anything until late in his career. People rarely take humor with the seriousness it deserves. But I digress). And the best way to do all that is to keep writing, keep publishing, and keep entertaining folks, which, yeah, just twist my arm already.
Did I mention that you’re all cruel but beautiful, and I love you oodles for reading my stuff? Because I do.
It’s time to pull on my Big Writer Panties
Degree of Resistance has now been out for a shade over a week, and the bulk of my wonderful ARC readers have left reviews (thank you all, *mwah*). I have requests out to a slew of reviewers, advertising going on at various locations, and I’m in the process of getting my media pack out to various bloggers who are kind enough to host my stuff.
And so far … yeah, the sales are perhaps a touch disappointing. The folks who have read the book so far say it’s hella good (and these people have no reason to blow smoke up my ass. If I’d produced something crappy, they would’ve told me). So what that confirms is that my marketing plan is not optimal and I have to come up with a better method of getting Evie and Ben’s story out in front of readers who love smokin’ cyborg romance.
To that end, the lovely and talented Cecilia Tan (my first editor and now my cherished colleague) was kind enough to spend an hour on Skype with me on Thursday going over various battle plans and ways to promote DoR. Some of them, I must admit, had simply never occurred to me but seem obvious in retrospect (e.g. find ways to write blogs posts that will appeal to girl geek-slanted publications such as The Daily Dot and io9, since a significant proportion of my SFR-loving readers will be found there). Others will require careful use of SEO terms to boost exposure, creative use of graphics, or just plain throwing money at the problem. As I am a poor but honest writer who is still paying off the costs of Wild Wicked Weekend (Tl;dr I had a frigging ball and sold more books than last year) I’m hoping to keep this last method down to a minimum, at least until the end of the month. I still want to try submitting Empress of Storms to BookBub, but I need to save up for that as well, plus I have to wait until I’m past the 90 day limit on sales prices (since it was on sale along with Palace of Scoundrels in December, that should take effect later this month).
So goes the life of a modern hybrid author. Still the best job I’ve ever had, though.
SFR Brigade Showcase: Degree of Resistance
Hello, folks! My new cyborg romance Degree of Resistance (Pacifica Rising 1) is now available on Amazon and other online retailers of fine SF romance, and I want to share a scene here that, to me, encapsulates the relationship between my main characters, bless their hard little heads.
Some backstory: the year is 2048, the United States has fallen and the Pacifica Protectorate is the most powerful nation-state on the West Coast. Evie Contreras is a freelance cybertech who lost the love of her life, Ben Drake, twelve years ago. When she finds out that Ben is still alive and has been turned into a cyborg soldier by the protectorate, she rescues him with the help of a shadowy resistance group known as Rubicon. In return, Rubicon wants Evie to go back to the Pacifica Protectorate and retrieve a hidden AI for them. Needless to say, Ben is not happy about this.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great SF romance at the SFR Brigade Showcase!
A perfect society hiding a terrible secret. An innocent man forced into cyborg slavery. A woman determined to set him free.
Freelance tech Evie Contreras is part of the Employee class of the Pacifica Protectorate, the “perfect society” that rose on the West Coast after the breakup of the United States. But Evie knows all about Pacifica’s festering core and the secrets that keep it in power. And when she discovers that her fiancé has been turned into a cyborg slave by a sadistic protectorate officer, she will risk everything to rescue him.
Evie opened the control box wired to the pressure tank that took water from the Burgess well. A set of dusty but functional solar cells sat on a pole fastened to the tank, and insulated wiring led from the cells to the control box. “Okay, the well is definitely not dry and the battery is pulling juice from the cells, so it’s got to be a failure in the pump,” she said, rooting around in the bag of borrowed tools next to her.
Ben crouched down next to her, making sure he was in between her and any potential restart of the McBride/Burgess water war. “Think you can fix it?”
She gave him an “are you kidding” glance, then returned her attention to the dusty innards of the control box. She leaned closer, nose wrinkling. “Ew.”
“What?”
Grimacing, she reached into the box and pulled out a small, stiff body. “I think it’s a deep-fried lizard. Can they chew on wires?”
He gingerly accepted the small corpse. The arid air had done a fine job of natural mummification on it. “Not as much. It might’ve peed on something, though.”
“Yay.” She peered deeper into the box. “Yeah, I think you’re right—looks like a contact got corroded. I can fix that.”
As she got to work, Ben kept an ear cocked to the radio clipped to his jacket pocket. After giving them a royal chewing out for taking an unauthorized beer break, J.C. was overseeing the repair of the War Wagon while a chastised Vince and company drove the bartered food and the wounded security officer back to the base in the Bandit. Rob had volunteered to stay behind as backup, and Evie’s presence had been requested at J.C.’s side once she was finished with the well pump.
He watched her frown in concentration at the control box. “There, that should work. I already primed the pump so—” She flipped a switch and the pressure tank rumbled before settling down to a satisfied gurgling. “Damn, I’m good.”
“Yes, you are.”
She squinted at him, patches of color blooming in her cheeks. He didn’t think it was because of the blustery wind. “Thanks. We better get back to the War Wagon.”
He got up and gave her a hand, hanging onto it once she was on her feet. She didn’t try to pull away, which was reassuring. “I’m sorry about punching the wall in your office,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
The corner of her mouth quirked. “I think you were justified.”
“I don’t, but thanks for that.” He stared at the hollows between the hills of her knuckles, the elegant strength of the hand. He never wanted to let it go. “I just hate the thought of you going back to Pacifica without me.”
The wind drove strands of dark hair across her face, curtaining it. “I know, but I don’t have a choice. Ballardie and I are the only ones who know how to shut down Lilith’s server. He can’t go so it has to be me. But I’m going to have Mark, Rob, and Lisa backing me up, and they’re all armed and extremely psycho. I’ll be fine.”
Ben wanted to smile at her description of the security officers. “Baby, you could head in there with a cyborg army at your back and I’d still worry.”
She snorted. “Is there anything I could say that would make you feel better?”
“Not really.” He brushed the hair away from her face. “I guess … I’m feeling useless right now because I can’t protect you, and I’m scared I’m going to lose you again, and if that happens…” He didn’t want to think about the yawning abyss that would become the brief remainder of his life in that case.
Those lovely russet eyes softened. “I understand about being scared,” she said, cupping his cheek. “That’s how I felt every time you went on deployment. I never knew if you were going to be in danger or not. All I could do was wait and pray that you came home.”
“Shit.” He pressed into the warmth of her hand, memorizing how she felt against his skin. “If this is how you felt, I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s part of loving a soldier. I knew that going in.” Her thumb stroked his cheekbone. “But I also knew if there was any way for you to come back, you’d take it. And you proved me right. You survived twelve years under Camden, and you came back to me. So I’m telling you right now that I’m coming back to you, and I’m bringing Ally with me.”
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “You better. I don’t think I can live without you.”
“Same here. Twelve years was long enough.” Her lips quirked. “And as for you being useless, may I remind you that you just walked into a strange town alone, convinced an armed man to let you into his bar, singlehandedly negotiated a ceasefire between two crazy people, rescued a bunch of our guys in the process, and you didn’t fire a single shot or spill a drop of blood doing it. You’re about as far from useless as it’s physically possible to be.”
He considered what she’d said. Viewed in that light, it was kind of impressive. “I was just doing my job,” he said, self-conscious.
“That’s what heroes always say.”
“You think I’m a hero?”
Her smile was blinding. “Well, you’ve always been my hero.”
Christ, he loved her. He pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek on top of her head. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, “but damn, I’m glad I did it.”
“So am I.” She leaned back and kissed him, her lips cool and soft. “And I know this is kind of pointless to say to a hero, but try not to worry about me. The thing is—”
She shifted, her hands moving. He suddenly found himself on the cold ground, right arm straight up behind him with his hand flexed in a wrist lock and her foot braced under his shoulder blade. “—I’m not exactly what you’d call helpless.”
He huffed out a rueful laugh. He could break the lock with his augmented strength, but not without hurting her. And if he was honest with himself he was damned impressed that she’d put him on the ground so neatly. “Someone’s been practicing.”
“Yup. Rob’s pretty damn good at hand-to-hand, and I still remember everything you and Tio Christo taught me.” Her voice dropped. “I’m coming back, Ben. And I’m bringing our daughter with me. You’re not going to lose either of us ever again.”
The grip around his wrist disappeared. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the most beautiful mouth in the world. Upside down, he wasn’t sure if she was smiling or frowning.
She planted her hands on her hips. “You believe me, right?”
He grinned. “My momma didn’t raise stupid children, ma’am. I believe you.”
“Good.” She toed at the dust. “Now get up. I’m freezing my ass off out here and I want to go home.”
Home. That sounded like a fine idea.
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Mid Week Tease: Degree of Resistance #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, folks, and welcome to Mid Week Tease hosted by Angelica Dawson! So, Degree of Resistance (Pacifica Rising 1), is now out and available for purchase. Today’s scene is where Evie first sees the graphic evidence of what the Pacifica Protectorate did to Ben. Next week we’re back to sexytimes, I promise.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
A perfect society hiding a terrible secret. A betrayed man forced into mindless slavery. A woman willing to break all the rules to set him free.
Freelance tech Evie Contreras is part of the Employee class of the Pacifica Protectorate, the “perfect society” that rose on the West Coast after the breakup of the United States. But Evie knows all about Pacifica’s festering core and the secrets that keep it in power. And when she discovers that her fiancé has been turned into a cyborg slave by a sadistic protectorate officer, she will risk everything to rescue him.
“Excuse me,” Evie said, “where’s the ICU?”
The nurse pointed down the hallway. “Go down, turn left at the nurse’s station, then left again at the restrooms. It’s behind the big blue security doors—you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.” She followed the directions to the doors that were marked “ICU—authorized medical personnel only.” If they were locked and controlled by Lilith, would the AI let her through? And even if she got through the doors, someone might challenge her.
Act like you belong. That was easy enough; she was already wearing scrubs. For added verisimilitude she grabbed a pile of sheets from a small cart as a prop, plopping the tablet on top. Taking a breath, she pushed at one of the doors. It opened and she stepped through.
A short hallway beyond ended at a circular nurse’s station manned by a handsome and clearly bored man in surgical blue scrubs. His curly black hair had been cut short, and he needed a shave judging by the heavy five o’clock shadow, but his eyes lit up when he saw her.
“Hel-lo,” he said in a drawled British accent. “Did someone finally hear my plea for more help?”
“That’s what I was told,” Evie said. “I’m Ally. Where do you need me?”
“Oh, my.” The man gave her a slow up and down that was too deliberately over the top to be offensive. “Don’t ask me questions like that, love. I’m still on call for two more hours.”
She snorted, glancing at the whiteboard propped up on the station’s counter. It had to be a list of patient rooms. “I bet you say that to all the staff members.”
“Only the ones who’ve stolen my heart.” He plunked his hand over his breastbone. “Promise me I’ll see you later, Ally. It may be the only thing that gets me through this deathly dull shift.”
This one was a charmer, which made things easier and harder at the same time. Easier because he’d let her slide past. Harder because he’d undoubtedly check out her ass as she walked away. “No promises—”
“Samir. Dr. Samir Haddad.” Something on his console beeped and he grimaced. “Damn. Duty calls, love. I’ll catch you later?”
“You can try.” Giving him a smile, she walked around the station, resisting the urge to hurry.
The nurse’s station sat at the crosspoint of four corridors like a bull’s eye. Luck and left-to-right reading habits were with her and B corridor was immediately opposite. She headed down there, counting rooms until she came to B4.
The board had Drake, B printed neatly next to the B4 slot. Licking dry lips, she grabbed the door handle. The worst they would do was kick her out, maybe yell at her for coming in without authorization, right? She’d take that if she could just see him for a minute, make sure he was all right, maybe even talk to him.
She opened the door, ready to smile.
And stopped.
Her mind couldn’t comprehend the form that was on the hospital bed. It was as if someone had made a lifelike mannequin of Ben, then removed both arms and everything below the middle of its chest. The holes in the trunk and arms had been sealed neatly with some sort of gelatinous caps, and a variety of tubes and wires ran from them to a combination of equipment arranged around the bed. Some of it she recognized from her own work, like the rounded white med droid with the spidery arms that stood in the corner. The rest appeared to be high-tech hospital equipment, all of it keeping what was on the bed alive.
She’d known intellectually what a cyborg was. Artificial arms, legs, internal organs; she could accept that. She thought she could accept that. But this was something that bypassed rational thought and went straight to the primitive brain, terrifying it.
She gasped a little when he opened his eyes. “Ben?” It was a whispered prayer.
But he heard her. Those grey-blue eyes opened, blinking a few times before he could focus on her. It broke her heart when he smiled. “Evie?”
Go to him. Touch him, tell him it’s going to be all right.
She couldn’t move.
His smile faded. He glanced down, craning his neck. His eyes went wide, filling with horror. “No. Oh, God, no!”
She choked back a sob, shaking her head.
Fierce color flooded his face. The horror disappeared, replaced by incandescent fury. “Get out!” he shouted, raising his head off the bed far enough to jostle some of the wires and tubes. Somewhere an alarm began to bleep. “Goddamn you, Evie, don’t look at me! Get out!”
She wanted to. She didn’t want to see any of this. Screwing her eyes shut, she fumbled for the door handle behind her.
“Get out!”
There it was. She stepped backwards, away from the raging half-man screaming at her from the bed.
And backed into someone. When she turned, Samir glowered down at her. “I think we need to have a chat, Ally.”
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Mid Week Tease: Degree of Resistance #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, folks, and welcome to Mid Week Tease hosted by Angelica Dawson! So, Degree of Resistance (Pacifica Rising 1), is now out and available for purchase. And to switch things up a bit, today’s scene is more tense than teasing — after Evie, Ben, and Evie’s daughter have been captured by Ben’s former commanding officer General Camden, Evie’s ex … I hesitate to call him boyfriend. Guy she was expected to have sex with in order to keep her job? Anyway, Gene shows up, wanting his property back. Ben’s not going to be very happy about this, as you will soon see.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
A perfect society hiding a terrible secret. A betrayed man forced into mindless slavery. A woman willing to break all the rules to set him free.
Freelance tech Evie Contreras is part of the Employee class of the Pacifica Protectorate, the “perfect society” that rose on the West Coast after the breakup of the United States. But Evie knows all about Pacifica’s festering core and the secrets that keep it in power. And when she discovers that her fiancé has been turned into a cyborg slave by a sadistic protectorate officer, she will risk everything to rescue him.
Camden settled back on the desk, wrinkling her nose. “There, that’s better. Now, the rest of us can have a lovely little chat.”
“Yeah, about that,” Gene said, practically vibrating in place. “You want the guy and his kid, fine. You’ve got them. I’m taking Evie now.”
Evie wasn’t sure who tensed first, herself or Ben. If Gene took her now, she knew she’d never see Ben or Ally again.
The general pursed her lips in dismay. “Oh, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. I need her for this next part.”
Gene’s attention jumped between Evie and Camden. “We had a deal. I was supposed to tell you if she showed up. You’d take anyone she was with, and I’d get her. That was the deal.”
Camden’s bright good humor didn’t change, but a thin layer of ice formed under it. “To paraphrase one of my favorite movie characters, I’m changing the deal.” She leaned forward, fixing a predator’s grin on the younger man. “Pray I don’t change it further.”
Evie had to bite back a hysterical laugh when Gene’s jaw dropped in shock. He struggled to regain control, his status as a Shareholder’s heir helping to shore that up. “That shit may work on your soldier boys, lady, but it doesn’t work on me. I went to a fuckload of time and expense to get a cabin up north for her, and I’m not going to waste all of that because you want to play some fucked-up game.”
Camden blinked. “I see. And what were you planning on doing in this cabin with Ms. Contreras?”
“What do you think?”
Ben’s muscles tensed for a lunge at Gene. Evie gripped his arm hard.
The general steepled her hands, raised index fingers resting on her lips. “I’m thinking you were planning on kidnapping a citizen of the protectorate and imprisoning her in that godforsaken wilderness near Portland so that you could rape her whenever your wife-to-be cut you off from your marital privileges. Is that roughly what you had in mind?”
This time Gene’s jaw almost hit his chest. “I’m not—I don’t—what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Evie had to throw all of her weight into keeping Ben on the couch. “Don’t,” she pleaded softly. “Please.”
Camden threw them a smirk. “Captain Drake here doesn’t seem all that impressed with your plans, Mr. Song. Neither does your inamorata, to be honest.”
Startled, Gene glanced at Evie. “Look, I know it’s little primitive but it’ll do for now.” From the slight whine in his tone, it was clear he was annoyed at having to use persuasion. “But you can stay there and no one will ever be able to find you, I promise.” He held out a hand. “She’s not stupid enough to shoot either of us. Come on, let’s go.”
Evie stared at him. He was right; Camden wouldn’t shoot the heir of Dae-Jung Song in his own home. If she took his hand and walked out the door with him now, she’d live.
As his sex slave, trapped in the middle of nowhere and totally dependent on him for everything. Protected behind his privileged bubble, he couldn’t understand that his offer wasn’t life. It was a life sentence.
Slowly, she shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Gene.”
His brow furrowed. “Goddamn it, Evie, I’m telling you I found a way we can be together. Hye won’t ever find out—”
“I don’t care about Hye. I’m not going anywhere with you, don’t you understand that?” She wrapped her hand around Ben’s. Gene spotted the gesture, eyes widening in astonishment. “I don’t want to be with you.”
His incomprehension disappeared, replaced by anger. “You belong to me,” he snarled.
“No, I don’t. I never belonged to you.” All those emotion bottled for so many years rose to the surface, burning her clean. “I didn’t have a choice about fucking you—that was all your father’s idea. Now I do have a choice. I’m free, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He bared a set of perfect teeth in a predator’s snarl. “You stupid bitch. I’m going to stash you in that cabin until that fucking fidelity clause is up, and I will fuck you any way I please, and you will say ‘thank you, sir’ each fucking time, do you understand—”
“Sit down, captain,” Camden barked.
Ben dropped back onto the couch from a half-crouch, blue eyes flat and murderous as they fixed on Gene. “Then tell him to shut his mouth before I shut it for him permanently,” he said softly.
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So, yeah, I’m nervous
Degree of Resistance will be available at midnight tonight, which means everyone who pre-ordered a copy (*MWAH* I love you so much), you’ll immediately be able to jump into Evie and Ben’s story.
And I’m nervous. I know that sounds sort of ridiculous — this is my seventh novel, why am I nervous? I have no idea, I just am. I’m really pleased with it, and I kinda fell in love with these two so I want their story to do well. And since the sales for Palace of Scoundrels have been meh, I may be kind of worried that the success I had with Empress of Storms was a fluke and this one might tank as well. It’s a legitimate fear, after all.
Of course, when I mention this to various people they whap me around the head and tell me to stop being ridiculous, it’s a solid story that’s hitting in the middle of the android/cyborg/AI romance wave and people will like it (and if it sucked these folks would have sat me down for a come-to-Jesus talk). And I feel better for awhile.
And then, because my brain is paranoid and hates me, I think, “Well, shit, what if I offend Latinx with my portrayal of Evie? I grew up on the south side of Chicago with Mexican-American friends and neighbors, but that was decades ago. Eve and her family are on the West Coast — maybe I got language use wrong. Or cultural elements. And what about Song and her family? What did I screw up?”
To which my betas have pointed out that 1) this story takes place 31 years in the future, in a different country that’s only loosely based on the West Coast as it is now, and a lot of cultural stuff will have changed, plus none of the characters are cardboard cutouts put in simply to tick an ethnic box. Which is nice, but doesn’t mean that I didn’t foul up somewhere. I will say now that if I got something wrong, for the love of Kage Baker tell me so that I can learn from my mistakes and fix them in the next book.
So, yeah, Nic is perhaps a tad overwrought at the moment. This too shall pass and I’m sure I’ll feel much better in the morning, but for now don’t be surprised if you find me in a corner somewhere gibbering quietly to myself.
On the plus side, the DoR print books arrived this afternoon. Damn, CreateSpace, do you hire the Flash to deliver your stuff or what? So I am totally set for Wild Wicked Weekend.
Author swag, promo, and wine — oh, my!
So I’m running around like the proverbial headless chicken trying to get my gift basket and author swag for Wild Wicked Weekend put together, and I like how things are shaping up. The gift basket will have a tiara, three–count them, three–bottles of wine, both Two Thrones books and Degree of Resistance (CreateSpace worked a miracle and the print copies should arrive the morning I leave for San Antonio), some lovely chocolates from World Market, Belgian hazelnut cookies, a VISA gift card, a Burt’s Bees care package, and a purse-sized lint roller and bottle of hand sanitizer for purposes of practicality. If you’re coming to San Antonio next weekend, make sure you bid on my basket — it’s going to be awesome. Also, come find me at the group signing and get me to personalize your books.
I’m also busy doing promo on Facebook and Twitter for Degree of Resistance, (THREE MORE DAYS, PEOPLE! Get your copy at 99¢ while you still can!) and I came close to disaster a few times. See, in order to have the ad graphic appear instead of the graphic link to Amazon I have to upload the ad first, then paste in the text with the Amazon link. The link is still active, but that way I get to choose what graphic gets used in the post.
Under normal circumstances this little dance works splendidly, except that my graphic is only one of two graphics on my desktop at the moment and I almost posted a picture of Louis Herthum a couple of times. Which wouldn’t be bad, mind you, especially since he provided so much inspiration for this book. But it’s rude to involve people in your PR without their permission.
That being said — damn, he’s cute.
The State of the Writer
As of an hour ago I finished the Weasel Word edit on Degree of Resistance. I am going to do a final read through this morning (what I refer to as the gloss pass), then compile the file for Amazon and upload. As of tomorrow it’s pretty much locked in place, so all I have to do then generate the ARC copies for my advance readers and focus on advertising, whee! I have to admit I am very pumped about this book — all of my betas have been very positive about it, and one even said it’s the best thing I’ve written to date. I also realized that it’s my seventh full-length novel, which is kinda cool now that I think about it. I Are A Writer!
Getting the ebook locked in also means I can get this place clean before heading down to San Antonio next week for Wild Wicked Weekend. I’ll have print copies of Empress of Storms and Palace of Scoundrels available — I was hoping to have copies of Degree as well, but I don’t think I can get them shipped in time, boo!
By the by, we’re having a release day party on Facebook starting at 7:00 PM CST, and among other things I’ll be giving away a brand-new Amazon Fire HD 8 tablet with 32GB of memory, as well as Amazon and Starbucks GCs and custom jewelry, so make sure you stop by for the festivities.
Mid Week Tease: Degree of Resistance #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, folks! I’m gearing up for the release of my new cyborg romance Degree of Resistance (Pacifica Rising 1), and it’s time to start posting some hot little teasers so that you know what you have to look forward to on February 21. The book is also available for pre-order on Amazon at a sale price of 99¢, so snag your copy now before it goes up to the regular price of $3.99.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
A perfect society hiding a terrible secret. A betrayed man forced into mindless slavery. A woman willing to break all the rules to set him free.
Freelance tech Evie Contreras is part of the Employee class of the Pacifica Protectorate, the “perfect society” that rose on the West Coast after the breakup of the United States. But Evie knows all about Pacifica’s festering core and the secrets that keep it in power. And when she discovers that her fiancé has been turned into a cyborg slave by a sadistic protectorate officer, she will risk everything to rescue him.
“I’ll have Ally packed up and ready to go tomorrow.”
“No problemo, El Capitan,” Evie brushed a spiky lock of hair behind one ear, flicking the purple tip with a finger.
Ben sighed. “You know I feel old every time you call me that, right?”
“Yup. That’s why I do it.” She tried not to stare too openly at the man behind the wheel of the GoCar. Not only was Ben Drake her late uncle’s best friend and a good friend of her family, he was also her employer, at least until she started college in the fall. And she understood it wasn’t too terribly slick to crush on your boss, especially when you were nineteen and he was thirty.
Even if he was tall, handsome as hell, and confident in an “alpha male without being an asshole” way. That last part was so damn sexy it carbonated her hormones every time she saw him. She decided to cut him some slack. “Seriously, though, it’s all good. I’ve got everything ready for her in my room.” Ben’s six-year-old daughter Ally had stayed over at the Contreras’s often enough that everyone knew the drill. The little girl was sound asleep at her dad’s base quarters now, one of the other officers keeping an eye on her while Ben ran Evie home. “Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”
He hesitated, then gestured vaguely, his PPDF grey uniform jacket dark against the GoCar’s upholstery. “It’s supposed to be two weeks, but you know that can change. Will that be all right with your folks?”
She had to grin at that. “You’re kidding, right? Mama’s already cooking up everything Ally likes, and as far as Papa’s concerned the more kids in the house, the better.”
Something in his expression flickered and she bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t put it that way. It sounded too much like flirting. Or worse, a suggestion. Yeah, Papa would be over the moon if she made him an abuelo, and Mama would be even more thrilled. But first she’d have to get married, then apply for a child permit. Then and only then would the contraceptive implant the local clinic had installed after her first period be turned off. No chance of unexpected kids in today’s Pacifica Protectorate, that was for damn sure.
She wasn’t even sure she wanted one, anyway. Babies were a huge time sink, and she had a lot of schooling ahead of her. But having a six-year-old stepdaughter might be okay, a little voice spoke up.
She quashed that voice. It was stupid even to hope. Ben was smart, hot, and a Defense Forces captain. There had to be tons of women after him. “Anyway, we’re all set to have her, don’t worry about that. You just take care of yourself.”
“Roger that.” He grinned at her, his smile dazzling even in the dimness of the car interior. “And thank you, Evie. I don’t think I tell you enough how much I appreciate everything you do for Ally and me.”
“Oh. Um, you’re welcome.” She could feel her cheeks heat at the praise, which just made them blaze even more. Ben’s wife Marilynn had died in her sleep from an unsuspected aneurysm when Ally was two. Christo was still alive then, and the entire Contreras family had unofficially adopted Ben and Ally. When Mama suggested that Evie become Ally’s regular babysitter, she’d grumbled a little for show, but soon came to appreciate the extra money Ben gave her for her school fund.
Over the last four years, however, her feelings towards both Ally and Ben had changed. Ally was a sunny little girl who lived for hugs, reading, and playing with Evie’s collection of BuildIts, cybered building blocks that could be made up into simple robots. Evie liked to tease Ben that one of these days he’d come home to find out that Ally had turned their household electronics into a kludged-together death ray. Ben would just smile and say that the Defense Forces would be happy to recruit her for their research department.
As for Ben, at some point he’d crossed an invisible border from being Tio Christo’s best friend to a handsome man who took up more and more space in Evie’s thoughts. When she turned eighteen last year, Ben had surprised her by asking if he could file the necessary permits to make her Ally’s official guardian. “Just in case. You know DF grunts—we like to have everything covered,” he’d said. She didn’t want to assume anything from the gesture; she was of legal age, and it made perfect sense for the family that already loved Ally to take care of her in case anything ever happened to him.
But in her heart of hearts, Evie wondered if it meant something else. He could have asked Mama or Papa to become Ally’s guardian—they would have said yes in a heartbeat. But he’d asked her instead. Once the permit had been approved, she’d caught Ben looking at her more and more, something wistful in his eyes. He’d never said anything, never made an overture. Was he waiting for her to make the first move?
Did she have the gónadas to do it?
Before she could open her mouth, he cleared his throat. “Anyway, I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She slumped against the seat. So much for that. “Yeah, okay.”
She reached for the door handle, then paused. Serving in the Defense Forces was a dangerous job. Christo was proof of that. And while Ben was an experienced soldier, there was never a guarantee that he’d come back from a deployment. She was of legal age and had her contraceptive implant. And the worst, the absolute worst he would do was tell her no. It would break her heart, true, but it would break her heart even worse if he never came back and didn’t know how she felt.
She took a deep breath, then leaned back into him and pressed her lips to his, heart pounding. This close she could smell the light scent of his usual body wash, and underneath it the scent of cotton, salt, and something she could only describe as healthy male. His lips felt warm and firm against her own, but he didn’t react to the kiss. Please, Ben. Do something.
Still no reaction. Deflated, she pulled back just enough to see his eyes. The light blue had almost completely disappeared, pushed into a thin ring around a dark center.
“Oh, thank God,” he muttered.
And then his arms slid around her, pulling her in tight as his mouth came back down on hers, forcing out a soft whimper. Dimly she hoped that he didn’t take that as a no. Because it was most definitely not a no.
It was nothing like kissing guys her own age. It was much, much, much better.
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Mid Week Tease: Degree of Resistance #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Hello, folks! I’m gearing up for the release of my new cyborg romance Degree of Resistance (Pacifica Rising 1), and it’s time to start posting some hot little teasers so that you know what you have to look forward to on February 21. The book is also available for pre-order on Amazon at a sale price of 99¢, so snag your copy now before it goes up to the regular price of $3.99.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
A perfect society hiding a terrible secret. A betrayed man forced into mindless slavery. A woman willing to break all the rules to set him free.
Freelance tech Evie Contreras is part of the Employee class of the Pacifica Protectorate, the “perfect society” that rose on the West Coast after the breakup of the United States. But Evie knows all about Pacifica’s festering core and the secrets that keep it in power. And when she discovers that her fiancé has been turned into a cyborg slave by a sadistic protectorate officer, she will risk everything to rescue him.
She leaned back on her arms, letting her robe gape open at the top. His eyes darkened as the soft terrycloth material softly dragged across her nipples, teasing them. “May I see you?”
Without a word he loosened the knot in the towel and let it fall. Let her look.
Her first thought was that 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,” he said. “You look like all your birthdays and Christmases came at once.”
“I think they just did.” There were no scars, no obvious signs that parts of his body were artificial. “You’re perfect.”
He glanced down at himself. “I think you may be a little biased, but thank you.” He looked back at her, pupils expanding until all the light blue had been pushed into a thin ring around each black pool. “You’re the one who’s perfect.”
He came to her and knelt, gently urging her knees apart so that he could move closer. She felt a flicker of embarrassment at the thought of him seeing her 30-year-old body nude, but couldn’t resist the pressure of his hands. Her heart raced as the belt on her robe loosened, falling 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 looked at her. The embarrassment 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 sweetly 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 built and she could feel the first traces of slick wetness there.
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. Liquid fire ran through her body and she moaned into his mouth.
She leaned back for a 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.” He kissed his way down to her ear, doing something wickedly good to the spot underneath it and pulling another moan out of her.
Her breasts tightened, the nipples starting to ache. Two could play that game. She ran the tip of a finger lightly around the shell of his ear, ending by gently rubbing the lobe between her finger and thumb. The shudder that went through him confirmed a direct hit.
“Wench,” he muttered against her neck. “Evil, vicious wench.”
“And that’s the way you like it.”
“Mm-hm.”
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Nicola Cameron Writes 