Sunday Snippet: Words Not Necessary

Well, it's my last snippet post of the year and I'm happy to note I didn't miss a week. That's a goal achievement I'm proud of.

Going into 2016, I have quite a few projects on tap for release and I'm very excited about those, too. I may roll a new weekly blog feature or try a newsletter this year. If anyone is interested, please don't hesitate to contact me to be added to the list.

Not much on the television front this week. I watched the finales for The Librarians and Agent X. According to my google fu, Agent X isn't renewed for another season, which is kind of disappointing. Since there are only ten episodes, I may try my hand at recapping the one and only season. We'll see what time allows.

On a side note, I did enjoy the Doctor Who Christmas special. It's my fondest hope I can get into the new season when it premieres, but I don't hold out much hope. The heart of the show is missing for me and unless the Doctor gets a truly marvelous companion, I doubt I'll be interested or able to keep with the all the cleverness Moffat tries to weave.

Oh, well. Looking forward to my favorite shows returning and having more to chat about each week.

Tonight's post is from Words Not Necessary, a novella where my couple's ability to communicate without words is the stuff of legend.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Sometimes an outside observer can provide a lot of insight on a couple's relationship, even if they'll never understand it. London and Braun are so in tune with each other they rarely speak, yet their communication is evident for anyone to see.

And a sneaky peek…

London Groche popped the canopy of her plane and snapped the release for her helmet. Yanking it off her head, she resisted the urge to throw the protective cover to the hangar deck and grab the deckhand by the throat to strangle her.

Delia Carruthers handed London the post-flight checklist. "Sir, if you'll mark the problems in the boxes, I'll pull the panels myself and run the diagnostics."

London snorted, but checked seven of the nine spots on the list. She shoved the clipboard back in Delia's hands and arched an eyebrow, indicating the deckhand better get out of London's way.

Delia scrambled down the ladder then scurried over to the lab area to pull the cables that had better damned well "diagnose" what the hell happened to her plane. London lost practically everything. Radar, thrust, weaponry, comms, guidance, navigation, and the ability to signal. London flew with nothing but the engine and basic maneuverability. The LSO thankfully let her land because she had jack all way of communicating her lack of important equipment.

London threw her helmet over the side of her plane and descended the ladder. She ignored the squawk of outrage when a crew member almost tripped over her head gear. The lowly specialist picked it up and thrust the helmet toward the ladder where it would be out of the way. Everyone gave London wide berth, not wanting to test her patience. Rightfully so. She spoiled for a fight, confrontation, anything to get rid of the rage boiling inside her brain.

The callback went out over the comm system, giving the all clear for the rest of the squadron to land. London stayed on the hangar deck, pissed off because she should've been out there to help mop up the raiding enemy ships. Delia got the cables hooked up and London hovered over top of the deckhand until the deck chief showed up.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Lieutenant, the diagnostics won't go any faster with you breathing down her neck." Abel Gordon leveled his most piercing glare on London.

She didn't flinch away from it or him. "Don't care. This is bullshit, Chief." Planes started lowering to the hangar deck, but London held her ground. "I lost damned near everything in the middle of a battle." Her voice rose, her anger getting the better of her.

Gordon held up a hand. "I'm aware, Lieutenant. We'll handle the problem—"

London cut him off. "Problems. With an 's'. You know, plural, as in multiples, more than one, and like seven too many." She advanced on the chief, a little please the big, brawny guy backed up several steps.

Her mouth opened to continue but a firm grip on her bicep had her swinging around ready to blast whoever had the balls to interrupt her tirade. Her lips clamped shut and her shoulders sagged. The only person with the power to suck the wind from her sails. Braun Orilly. CAG, best friend, lover, and calming presence. He didn't need to tell her to shut the hell up. He understood her frustration and irritation, but he didn't put up with his pilots making asses of themselves. Not even her.

He raised both eyebrows. "Really? In the middle of the deck, you're going to go into mega-bitch mode?" He didn't speak, conveying everything with his expressive face.

London shrugged and made a pointed look at her ruined plane. "Well, yeah. Plane's down, which means I'm out of commission." He knew her well enough to know being stuck would drive her insane.

Abel backed away, turning to issue orders for the incoming pilots' post-checklist. The crew scattered, dashing to and fro to carry out their assigned tasks. London barely paid attention, her gaze on Braun while they continued their non-verbal conversation.

He draped an arm around her back and dipped his chin. "You know they'll fix it up or assign a different plane for you." His silent admonishment hit home with a quirk of his brow.

She rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose. "Right. I'll draw Stinko's plane and smell like rotten eggs for three days." The guy got his call sign for a reason.

Braun threw his head back and laughed and the tension she carried finally broke. Her posture relaxed and a chuckled escaped before she could stop it. Braun hugged her close, giving her a hard squeeze then jerked his head toward the corridor leading the crew quarters. London gave a quick shake of her head and held up five fingers. She'd follow in a few.

Delia glanced in London's direction, her fingers swiping over the handheld panel, feeding information into the diagnostic equipment. "How do you do that?"

London frowned. "Do what?" She tilted her head to one side, confused by the question.

Delia snorted. "Are you kidding? You just had an entire conversation with Captain Orilly and never said a word." She gave London a look like she should know exactly what Delia meant. "How do you do it?"

London lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. We just do." Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, she arched an eyebrow. "Don't you have a sick plane to make better?" She didn't wait for a reply, instead taking off to grab a shower and maybe some chow.

But she considered Delia's question. She and Braun did have an uncanny connection. Thinking back, London tried to remember the first time they used their non-verbal shorthand.

Her face lit up with a smile when the memory hit.

Missing planning for bombing an outpost.

Two years ago.

I'm trying something a little different for me with this one and it's fun to write. London and Braun are making it easy, which is a big bonus.

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Spirit's Bright Star

*meep* Pardon me while I have a small panic attack. It's somehow five days before Xmas and I have nothing wrapped. This doesn't happen, at least not for a long time. All I can say is the sages have been prolific and when they're feeding me words, I pretty much lose all track of time. So… a whirlwind wrapping session is on tap starting first thing tomorrow. Ugh.

I missed the Haven finale. See previous comment about the sages feeding me words. I'll catch it on demand in the near future. I hope. LOL

The Librarians and Agent X had pretty great episodes this week. I'm also in a good mood after watching the magic and mayhem the librarians get involved in. And Agent X makes the conspiracy theorist part of my brain work to figure things out. Two hour finale next week and I'm definitely interested in where the season ends.

That's it for TV this week.

Tonight's post is from Spirit's Bright Star, my holiday story that's coming in under the wire. Releasing this week!

Here's the mini-blurb:

Courtney Caine and Gib Gallagher incur the head of security's wrath. The top man for Space Station Gamma punishes his two best shadow operatives by putting them in charge of all the decorations for the upcoming holiday season, and they have to pull off creating the glitz and glamor without blowing their covers.

And a sneaky peek…

Gib pulled the information on the eight different themes McCall gave them and printed out a tentative supply list. Research sucked. But seeing how Courtney would pull together the perfect wife look greatly appealed to him.

The woman constantly amazed. She could operate under any kind of circumstance. When McCall needed a femme fatale, he almost always tagged Courtney for the role. Her transformations blew everyone away and she slipped into various characters with ease. Yet she managed to hold her own against thugs bigger and stronger than her feminine frame. She rarely let a target escape her grasp, the slip-up with Beno notwithstanding.

And he'd laid out a huge challenge for her. "I'll bet she really blows my mind." He rose and exited the interview room, heading for the clothing area to find an undercover wardrobe.

He'd probably need to hit up a stylist, too. He usually avoided the need, but his usual shaggy, collar-length style wouldn't cut it, not if he wanted to pull of portraying a big name designer. He wondered what Courtney would come up with… probably something super chic and ultra-sharp.

And sexy.

Geez, he needed to get his mind off Courtney and focus on the op.

But a few more moments wouldn't hurt. Her looks combined with a keen intelligence made for an intriguing package. Warm and witty, she let her guard down, but not often. The job required her to keep a certain aloof quality, or maybe Courtney cultivated the allure to make it easier to play her various roles.

She always kept the other operatives at arm's length. He understood why she might, but he wanted to pursue something, anything, with her. He'd heard the scuttlebutt—Courtney didn't hook-up with coworkers. He imagined several reasons why. A former romance gone bad. Or maybe a personal moral code. Regulations didn't state employees couldn't have relationships.

Whatever her reasons, he aimed to discover them. Puzzles intrigued him and he wanted to figure Courtney out. If he could unlock the door she kept firmly closed and determine what really made her tick, he stood a chance at something great. If she really didn't want him, he'd respect her wishes. But he'd try like hell to change her mind.

They could be spectacular together.

I'm looking forward to having this one out there. Courtney and Gib were so much fun to write.

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye

Ho-Ho-Ho Under the Mistletoe—Spirit's Bright Star #MistletoeHop

Sponsored by Romance Beckons

Enter for a chance to win an awesome prize!

Grab your mistletoe and pucker up!

Welcome to the Mistletoe Hop, an excellent sampling of authors sharing short excerpts from their work.

Readers: Please enjoy the steamy snippets and consider picking up the full book by clicking on the buy link. Enter by leaving a comment for a chance to receive a free copy.

Bloggers: Please check out the excellent previews and spread the word.

~*~

My favorite family tradition started about ten years ago. I got the wild hair idea to have a themed holiday tree. I had my oldest kiddo pick the theme and we came up with ideas for how to make ornaments and use things around the house to decorate. To date we've had Under the Sea, Buried Treasure, Nature's Bounty, Candy Land, Snowflakes and Cupcakes, Techno Tree, Imaginext, Noah's Ark, Seahawks Rule—much to the chagrin of my Browns loving husband, and Bells are Ringing.

This year my daughter got to choose and she wanted to do something a little vintage. We've decorated a white tree with old fashioned looking ornaments in jewel tones. She hasn't really named it yet, but I've been calling it our Vintage Jewel tree. It's really quite lovely.

After getting the tree decorated, my favorite 'me' tradition is to turn on some seasonal music, get a glass of wine or cup of tea, and decompress by reading a holiday romance. It's a nice little respite from the crazy schedules, piles of presents, and butt-loads of wrapping paper waiting in the wings.

After getting the tree decorated, my favorite 'me' tradition is to turn on some seasonal music, get a glass of wine or cup of tea, and decompress by reading a holiday romance. It's a nice little respite from the crazy schedules, piles of presents, and butt-loads of wrapping paper waiting in the wings.

~*~

Traditions are wonderful things. But what happens when you can't follow an established one? Or you don't have any in the first place? When writing as ML Skye, I tend to focus on science fiction or speculative romance, imagining a future where couples have the same issues of contemporary times, but find love in a different galaxy or another planet. They also celebrate the season, albeit in a slightly different way.

My holiday release, Season's Bright Star, features a couple who have to go undercover to bring in a wanted criminal and their alter egos are the design team for the huge holiday display on a space station. Courtney and Gib have very different upbringings and some of their traditions helped shape who they are. In Courtney's case, letting go of the not so wonderful customs could free her to pursue a terrific new path with Gib.

I had so much fun writing the book and I'm giving a digital copy away for this blog hop. Please leave a comment for your entry and share your favorite part of the holiday season. (Maybe it involves books!)

~*~

Book Tagline: On Space Station Gamma, Courtney and Gib discover love while working undercover during the holiday season.

~*~

Courtney Caine paced back and forth in the small interview room of Outpost Five, Space Station Gamma's security hub. The ass chewing she'd just received still burned and the man who caused it offered zero help. And the new assignment to fix their screw up sucked balls.

She stopped and whirled around. "Dammit, Gib, how the hell can we pull this whole 'get the station ready for every damned holiday ever' thing McCall wants?" Warren, the head of security, had to be out of his mind.

No, more like pissed off and looking to make two of his undercover agents pay the price.

Her fellow ass-chewee, Gib Gallagher, tilted his handsome head to one side and pondered her question. Courtney wished the guy didn't look good enough to eat. Tall, built, and rough around the edges, the exact type she tended to go for. And a prime candidate for the security forces, which put him out of her reach. She avoided workplace relationships like the Tanthiac plague—who needed the awkward vibes after it inevitably ended?

Gib snapped his fingers. "I've got it. We could arrive under the guise of a brilliant omnisexual designer with his overworked and harried assistant in tow."

She frowned. "You couldn't pass for an omnisexual. No way."

Gib scoffed. "I'll have you know if a hot dude or smokin' alien asked me for sex, I'd totally consider it."

And if she asked? Yeah, he'd absolutely entertain the idea. Alas, she would never broach the topic.

Couldn't. Even if she wanted to.

Courtney rolled her eyes. "Really? What kind of guy would you be attracted to?"

He answered. "Someone buff, tough, and rough. Oh… and tall. Maybe with dark hair." He waggled his eyebrows.

She snorted. "You moron, you just described yourself. That's not omnisexual. Hell, I don't think there's a name for wanting to screw yourself." She shook her head. "I don't even want to know what kind of alien you'd be into. Probably a thick-skinned, scaly Scathian,"

He wrinkled his nose. "No way. Their scales would chafe too badly and the slime green coloring kinda skeeves me out. Now the blue-toned Caprisians are another story—wait… you think I’m buff?" He waited a beat. "Of course you do. That's how we landed in this mess in the first place."

Damn. The. Man. She would not take full responsibility.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Uh uh. You're not laying the blame on me. How do you figure it's my fault?"

He smirked. "You shouldn't have been checking out my ass. We wouldn't have lost Beno if you were focused on the job." His brow arched, daring her to counter.

~*~

Book Blurb: Courtney Caine and Gib Gallagher incur the head of security's wrath. The top man for Space Station Gamma punishes his two best shadow operatives by putting them in charge of all the decorations for the upcoming holiday season, and they have to pull off creating the glitz and glamor without blowing their covers.

~*~

~*~

Please stop by my website

Get the holiday spirit and relax! Visit the other participating authors.

Sunday Snippet: Wires Crossed

Argh!!! The Flash, Arrow, and Agents of SHIELD left off at cliffhangery moments. But what awesome episodes!!! I have lots and lots of thoughts, but won't share here for the sake of saving some space. LOL

Haven has one more week and will end on a double episode. I truly hope it ends well, mainly because I've been with the show since the very beginning.

The Librarians and Agent X are still entertaining me. I really enjoyed last week's Agent X and can't wait to see what happens this week. Gotta say the actor playing the foil in last week's episode is making the rounds. He's been on a lot of shows I've been watching.

Looking forward to Agent Carter coming soon. I love the format and the entire cast of characters. Can't wait.

That's it for the TV roundup this week.

Tonight's post is from Wires Crossed, a novella where my main characters have a ton of conflict to work through.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Vanessa Twill and Justin Hardwick don't always see eye to eye and the tension between them is thick and taut. When a training exercise goes bad, the duo is grounded until they get their act together. Forced to communicate, they work out some issues and realize they didn't have their wires crossed… a saboteur did. Literally.

And a sneaky peek…

Vanessa Twill sat in the cockpit, watching her trainee perform a difficult series of maneuvers. "Nice job, Catnap. A little rough on the ending sequence though." She typed in a brief report on the comm screen. "I want you to spend an extra hour or two in the simulator this week."

Catnap, also known as Catherine Napali, replied, "Copy that, Lieutenant." She flew around and got into formation with the other trainees.

The next cadet flew out, not one of hers, and Vanessa settled in for a few minutes of relaxation.

"Hey, Van. Your newb made some sloppy mistakes out there." Justin Hardwick broke into the radio silence on a ship-to-ship call.

Her counterpart in training often drove her mad with snide comments and too many helpful suggestions. They rarely saw eye-to-eye on teaching techniques. From the moment they'd met, they'd been at each other's throats over the right way to whip the new squadron into shape.

Vanessa flipped over to Justin's frequency. "She didn't do anything a few extra sessions in the simulator won't iron out." And some extra attention from Vanessa.

Justin's snort crackled over the radio. "She should go back out there and run the sequence three more times. Correct the mistake while she's making it."

Vanessa rolled her eyes. Justin's answer to any and all busted moves—repeat the exercise three times or more. If they didn't run the risk of damaging multibillion dollar spacecrafts, she might go along with the stupid idea.

She went to respond but her radar panel lit up like a pleasure casino. The squawk of everyone speaking at once had her cutting the main comms to drown out the noise and hopefully help the pilot in distress. Justin's candidate spun wildly and she stayed quiet while Justin calmly tried to talk him through the procedure to get back on track. When he failed, he had no other option but to have the kid get clear of the plane.

"Red Hen, eject, eject, eject." Justin's voice rang out, loud and clear, over the line.

Vanessa sucked in a harsh breath and held it, hoping like hell the kid remembered the location of the trigger mechanism. A second and a half later, the panel blew and the seat shot up and out of the plane, which continued to spiral out of control. Vanessa slowly exhaled, her heart beating a rapid staccato. She ordered the trainees back to the ship and led the formation to the hangar deck. Justin stayed behind, waiting on the SAR transport to come out and pick Rafe Hernandez, Red Hen, up.

Coming to a smooth landing, she popped the canopy of her bird and removed her helmet. Rising up, she looked around for the deck hand that she normally handed her equipment off to, but met the angry gaze of the XO, instead.

He shook his head. "That one was a little too close for comfort, Lieutenant. Let's make sure it doesn't happen again."

Slumping back down into the cockpit, Vanessa closed her eyes and counted to ten. They were lucky no one got hurt and Rafe remembered his training. But she'd give Rafe an earful when he got back in.

Justin and Vanessa have many a battle to fight and most of them are up hill.

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Wings Get Clipped

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Even if you don't celebrate anything holiday related, I hope the festive nature rubs off and make December terrific.

So… Gotham. Interesting stuff building in this season. I'm truly loving all the potential and the twists and turns. I'm very curious about how they'll deal with Gordon's actions. I love how he's not afraid to get messy, but there has to be some kind of line he won't cross.

The Flash and Arrow crossover event ended up being pretty decent, especially since it bridges the setup of a new show. Could it have been better? Absolutely. But I think it accomplished a ton of stuff and stayed true to the characters.

The Walking Dead finale seemed a little flat, but I'll give the showrunners this one. The rest of the season has been so top notch; I'm willing to wait for a bigger payoff. In all honesty, I'm not super excited about adding the uber-villain into the mix just yet, even if the actor they cast is incredible. I'll reserve judgment until I see the new episodes.

Haven inches ever closer to the end and I'm on the fence about the stunt casting of Shatner. I love the man as an actor, but I hope the payoff is worth using him. I do have a ton of joy over the fact they're addressing Duke and Audrey's somewhat tumultuous relationship. It's my fondest hope the combined effort of Duke, Audrey, and Nathan will be what it takes to rid Haven of Croatoan and keep the town safe. We'll see if I'm on track very soon.

The Librarians and Agent X are still enjoyable. I like the slow reveal of John's background in Agent X and love the dropped hint in the most recent episode. Won't say more to keep the post spoiler free for now.

Last but not least, Agents of SHIELD and Doctor Who. I'm kind of excited to see where AoS ends up. I like seeing a darker Coulson, but I'm not sure I buy him getting all bent over the death of a woman he pretty much just met. Eh… we'll see what happens. And Doctor Who… well, I honestly don't have a lot to say. Or maybe I've got so much to say I can't possibly put it all in one post. Still hugely disappointed and, quite frankly, too stupid to really understand what the big freaking deal is with the hybrid crap. At least the Xmas episode looks pretty fun.

And that's it for television this week. I hope to start Daredevil and Jessica Jones over the holiday hiatus. YAY!

Tonight's post is from Wings Get Clipped, a novella where my characters bond over a huge external conflict.

Here's the mini-blurb:

In the middle of a war, a long-standing personal vendetta comes to light against Schuler Grace and Gren Gambolina's commanding officer and it puts the two soldiers directly in the line of fire. Fighting the enemy within, while doing battle with their adversaries on the warfront, Schuler and Gren form an unbreakable bond to see them through their biggest challenge.

And a sneaky peek…

Admiral Shellan sat before the Joint Council, ready to deliver his final demand. "You're going to put me in charge of the Andromeda theater." He'd already received concessions for several topics and he'd saved the most important for last.

The chairman leaned forward. "Shellan, we won't allow you to pursue a personal vendetta in the middle of a war. If that's your plan, you can stay in the Triangulum theater."

Shellan nodded slowly. "I assure you I'm not gunning for Wharton. I know the Andromeda theater and you need my knowledge." He paused, waiting several long beats. "If you want to win."

The members of council glanced back and forth between each other, two going so far as to bob their heads up and down. Shellan settled back in his seat. He'd won this round. The chairman wouldn't be able to refuse Shellan's demand to move his command to the outpost in Andromeda.

And Shellan would get his chance to take Wharton down, once and for all.

The chairman folded his hands on the table. "Admiral Shellan. You're hereby assigned as the supreme commander of the Andromeda theater. But… I caution you, on the record, about using this post to enact a personal vendetta against Commander Wharton. You'll be removed from command and stripped of all commendations if we get any kind of indication you're abusing your rank, are you perfectly clear on that topic?" Wizened eyes pinned Shellan with their gaze.

The admiral gave a curt nod. "I am." He didn't stand on ceremony and rose from his seat. "I'll leave immediately." He strode toward the exit and twisted the knob. "I'll get results. You can count on it." Yanking the door open, he walked out of the room, back straight and head high.

His aide fell into step beside him. "Sir? Everything went according to your plan?"

Shellan let a wide, slow smile grace his face. "Of course, Schwartz." He made a turn and strode down into the landing bay where his flagship waited to depart.

Schwartz leaned in closer to the admiral. "And Wharton? Did they question you about him?"

Shellan sent his aide a sideways glance. "Of course they did. They sputtered and spewed their usual ass-covering platitudes then gave me exactly what I wanted."

Schwartz followed Shellan onto the ship. "And that would be?"

Shellan turned and faced his aide. "The chance to kill two enemies in one go, Schwartz, what else?"

As my characters discover, Shellan will be huge obstacle to overcome.

That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.

ML Skye

Get Hooked: Reel in a Great Book—Dress for Dinner #MFRWAuthors #MFRWHooks

Welcome to Book Hooks, the weekly smorgasbord sampler hosted by the MFRW Authors Blog.

Readers: get hooked and reel in some great books. Authors are sharing short excerpts from their work. Please enjoy and consider picking up the full book by clicking on the buy link.

I hope everyone is geared up for the holiday season!

For my selection, I'll be featuring an excerpt from Dressed for Dinner, the final installment in the Top Dog Pilots series.

This week, Maggie meets her uncle's new bride.

Series Tagline: Two top pilots, Max Cutter and Maggie Harper, like to mix a little personal with their professional life.

Book Tagline: A formal dinner with an admiral challenges Cutter's ability to play nice.

~*~

Maggie observed her new auntie in action. Her fingers lingered too long on the sleeves of the male officers. Her eyes flashed promises at each and every one. She thrived on suggestive words and innuendo. And she had a throaty laugh that seemed to be a mating call. Maggie would bet the woman had claws when crossed.

She aimed to find out.

Working her way through the throng of men packed around the vivacious red head, Maggie smiled sweetly. "Uncle Artie suggested I show you to the head… sorry, the facilities, so you can freshen up a bit." She turned to the disappointed masses. "Sorry, boys. She'll be back later." Maggie didn't wait for Celine to respond. She grabbed the woman's arm above the elbow and dragged her down the corridor.

Celine stumbled along beside her, the heels of her fuck-me shoes skittering on the nubby surface of the deck. Maggie shoved open the hatch and tugged Celine inside.

The other woman whirled around to face her. "What. The hell?" She tossed her head and straightened her shoulders.

Maggie smirked. "I'm sorry? You weren't done holding court?" She turned the water on and rinsed her hands. "I'm sure the guys will understand. None of them want to piss off a retired admiral."

Celine rolled her eyes and snorted. "Please. I've got Arthur wrapped. He finds it amusing when all those young bucks fawn all over me." She moved to stand in front of a mirror, adjusting the bodice of her dress.

Any lower and her tits would fall out.

Maggie shook her head back and forth. "You know, Celine. The thing about manipulative creatures like you is… you always think you're smarter than anyone else."

Celine's lips curved up in a nasty smile. "I usually am, darling."

Maggie shrugged. "Maybe. But the other thing about your type…" She moved to stand behind the other woman, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "And this is the best part, so pay attention." Celine narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. "You always trip yourself up. You can't help it." Maggie backed away, giving Celine room to refresh her lipstick. "Believe your own hype and eventually, it'll bite you on the ass."

Available on Amazon

~*~

Series Blurb: Follow the adventures of Max 'Ripper' Cutter and Maggie 'Magpie' Harper, two ace pilots at the top of their game. Whether it's surviving Hell Week, exploring uncharted space, or dealing with a unique family situation, Cutter and Maggie rise to the challenge.

Book Blurb: Max Cutter and Maggie Harper are top dog pilots, training up and coming aviators on the Pathos. Their system garners the attention of the admiralty and a new recruitment program is initiated—one with a family connection to Maggie. When she has to reveal a big secret, Cutter is less than thrilled. But they've been together long enough to smooth the choppy waters.

Until Maggie's uncle arrives with his much younger new bride, Celine Rockwell Harper. Maggie takes one look at the woman and sees a recipe for disaster. She confronts her new aunt and gives the sultry woman a warning—sooner or later, Celine will trip herself up. Celine is confident she can deal with any fallout her mild flirtations may cause.

When Maggie has to bow out of the full dress dinner with their commanding officer, her uncle and his wife, Cutter is left to handle the grasping and pawing Celine on his own—no easy feat. When the nightmare dinner party is over, Cutter welcomes Maggie's brand of cleansing his palette.

~*~

~*~

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Reel in more great books! Visit the other participating authors.