Sunday Snippet: Clubbing on Space Station Delta

Welcome to the last post of 2019. I hope everyone had a terrific holiday or the best they could have given the trash fire that has turned into a raging wildfire of possible corruption and back-channel maneuvering in the RWA. I'm not a member of the organization but I stand with marginalized authors. Period. Full stop.

I believe I made it through the mild case of the flu. I'm still a little stuffed up and achy, but otherwise doing well. I caught some decent television time also.

I watched an episode of Riverdale and thoroughly enjoyed it. Once again, the play on theme of the episode title worked so well. I'm sad because it's almost the end of the season and that means no more Luke Perry soon.

I finished Dirty Sexy Saint and ended up really liking it. I also caught the new Quickie, The Naughty List and loved that also.

Caught another episode of Murdoch Mysteries and enjoyed the different approach. The episode played out almost like a dinner theater murder mystery and I'm totally there for that.

Frankie Drake also had a different style of episode and I loved it. The cold opening had me wondering for a few moments if we'd lost a major cast member. Well done.

Watched an episode of Midsomer Murders and, weirdly, it reminded me of Doctor Who if only because two of the actresses in this episode guest-starred on the series. I've been watching some of the marathon leading up to the New Year's premiere of the new season.

I'm finishing out the week with a full arc of Sapphire and Steel. I started season three and since there's only one assignment for this season, I'll have it finished up later today.

And that's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Clubbing on Space Station Delta, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Macie Gunn discovers a very different side to Nix Handleman, her commanding officer, when they get some downtime on Space Station Delta. Macie likes what she sees, but wonders if Nix will keep the stick out of his ass once they return back to duty.

And a sneaky peek…

Nix has had the stick up his ass for too many years.

Nix replayed Macie's offhand comment over and over in his mind. He didn't mean to eavesdrop on her conversation with Jenna, but it had been hard to avoid. Once the briefing room emptied out, voices carried.

He shook his head. "I don't have a stick up my ass." Then again, he didn't exactly burn through good times like he once used to.

Not since his best friend Eick Nambi died because of a stupid barroom brawl.

Maybe that should change. Eick's death had been eight years ago. Nix advanced up the ranks and made captain.

He snorted. "By working my ass off, not by shoving a stick up it." Cutting through the mess hall, he stopped outside his office.

Macie's observation stung more than he wanted to admit. He liked her, the newest member to his squadron. She'd transferred in almost six months ago.

Keying in the entry code, he nudged the hatch open with his shoulder. "I should get to know her better." A matter of pride… especially now.

Not like he didn't have the general basics down. Her remarkable skill in the cockpit put her ahead of some of his seasoned crewmen. And she believed in working as a team, sharing glory and accolades. Vivacious, witty, and gorgeous, she didn't let the beauty go to her head.

Hooking up with her wouldn't be a hardship and the relaxed regulations no longer made fraternization a forbidden taboo.

Nix huffed out a breath. "Discretion is crucial though." Which could be a problem.

Because… Macie loved scuttlebutt. She enjoyed nailing her fellow pilots with embarrassing information and drawing attention to them. And she rarely missed an opportunity to offer an opinion on the latest and greatest fodder from the rumor gristmill.

Even if Nix wanted to pursue something more with Macie—and he didn't right now—he wouldn't trust her to keep her big yap shut.

Leaning back in his chair, he tapped his pen on the desk. "Doesn't mean I can't shake up her perception a little." And prove he most definitely did not have a stick up his ass.

This story is so much fun! I love writing characters who have to move past preconceived notions. Macie is in for a big surprise.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Close Quarters

So, I'm pretty much caught up on the holiday shopping and just in time. We adopted another doggo this week and I ended up with a mild case of the flu. So far, a multi-symptom medication is taking care of the flu and the puppy is chewing her way through anything she can sink her teeth into. We're working on the little shredder to help break her of tearing into everything.

Slow week for television, but I did watch a Classic Who arc. I think I have one left of season nine.

Caught two more episodes of Gargoyles. I had a great conversation with my oldest about the shows we watched together when he was little. Some great memories shared of how much fun we had.

Started Mr. 365, a Passionflix original, but stopped it about halfway through because I'm behind on everything and I wanted to catch Dirty Sexy Saint, the holiday movie for this year. I'll finish up Mr. 365 soon.

I'm in the middle of Dirty Sexy Saint and, so far, love it. I'm so glad I got a founding member's subscription to Passionflix.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Close Quarters, the second novel in the Scorched Homeworld series.

Here's the mini-blurb:

After trying to out maneuver their crew mates who bet on whether they'd ever hook up, Molly and Sloan discover an abiding love and embark on a committed relationship. Their biggest problem? Trying to figure out how to live in close quarters without making each other insane.

And a sneaky peek…

The brush of Sloan's chest across hers and the sting of his teeth on her skin sent shock waves straight to Molly's toes. She welcomed it. The pressure continued to build and Molly waited for the swirl of pleasure to hit.

Sloan's hot breath in her ear sent a delicious shiver down her spine and she edged closer to the precipice. He changed up the pace, thrusting faster, harder. Molly toppled over the edge, pleasure exploding like a starburst and she shattered, moaning Sloan's name.

Her release pulled him into the vortex after two more surges and he came hard, breathing raggedly as he gasped against her throat.

Spent, Sloan collapsed and rolled to his side, hauling Molly against his chest, her face lying over his pounding heart. He caressed her arm as their breathing returned to normal.

When coherent thought was an option, he lifted her chin so he could see her. "We're pulling an all-nighter, aren't we?" He groaned when she chuckled and nodded affirmative.

Amused by his reaction, Molly playfully walked her fingers up his chest. "We could always stay in bed, if you'd prefer." She knew that as much as he'd want to, the neat freak inside him wouldn't allow it.

His grimace confirmed her knowledge. "I didn't think so." She sat up and pulled him along with her. "Let's go, Captain. We've got a lot of work to do." She grabbed a robe from the back of the door and slid it over her shoulders.

Sloan wished she hadn't decided on the robe. It was his favorite—short and silky—and he'd be distracted with her wearing it.

He pulled on some sweats and followed her out into the living area where she was making what passed for coffee. As she reached up to the top shelf to get two mugs he caught a glimpse of the rounded flesh of her behind and decided they would have to take a break every couple of hours or he'd go insane. When he looked back up, Molly was grinning at him… that had been her plan all along.

He gave her his best CAG glare, which only made her laugh.

Keeping his face stern, he gestured to the profusion of paper. "Okay. Where do we start?"

Molly wasn't fooled at all. She spun and danced around the stacks of papers somehow managing to not move a single sheet. The loosely knotted robe slipped open, exposing a line of flesh down her middle.

She didn't fix it, just plopped down on the hastily cleared cushion and grabbed the stack closest to her. "Why don't you go through these and weed out the non-qualified applicants."

She waved the pages at him when he didn't respond and caught him gazing at her barely covered breasts. "Sloan… hello? You do want this mess cleared, right?"

Sloan's eyes snapped back to her face, the evil grin on it told him she knew exactly what that robe did to him.

He shook his head. "You are so bad, Molls." He grabbed the papers with a determined look in his eyes. "We will have at least a third of this room cleared within two hours." He sat down beside her and started to review the first application.

Molly smirked and stood up. "Two hours?" She grabbed another bunch of pages that were already disqualified and looked around for a file to stick them in. "Why two hours?" She found a file on the floor and bent over to pick it up, exposing herself to his perusal.

Sloan didn't say they couldn't have a little fun while they cleaned up her mess. His strangled oath didn't mean he hated the view.

Sloan willed his body not to respond to Molly's blatant teasing. "Because in exactly two hours I'm carrying you back to our bed so I can screw you senseless for torturing me."

He gave her a look, daring her to contradict his statement.

Molly gave him a wide grin. "Is that a promise?" She scribbled 'qualified apps' on the side of a box and shoved it his way. She'd go through those later.

Sloan raised an eyebrow. "Do you doubt me?" He picked the box up and set it beside him, then nodded at the floor. "Get busy… time's a wasting."

He went back to reviewing the next application to the sound of her laughter.

I love writing Molly and Sloan and it's fun to dive into how sharing space changes the dynamic of a relationship.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Chasing the Sun

There's nothing quite like hitting the third week of December and realizing less than half my holiday shopping is complete. I need about five more hours each day to get everything finished up. Something tells me I'm not going to see that extra time.

Had a decent week of television viewing. Caught an episode of Riverdale and, wow, I'm seriously impressed with how the relationship with Betty and Alice is being portrayed. I'm on the fence with the Hal stuff. Was completely thrilled I didn't have any Hiram to deal with and loved the father / son stuff between FP and Jughead and Archie and Fred. It's so bittersweet to watch Luke Perry's scenes.

Caught another arc of Sapphire and Steel. I should be getting ready to start the third season next week.

Watched an episode of Murdoch Mysteries. Really not sure what to make of the neighbor interaction. My gut says the wife is probably some type of murderer. We'll see if I'm proven right. I have a vague idea of who I think she'll end up taking out if she is.

Also watched an episode of Frankie Drake Mysteries. Enjoyed seeing a family member added to the fold. Loved Nora's mama bear protection instincts.

Also caught another episode of Midsomer Murders. Very happy this has another season coming up.

That's pretty much it for television this week. I also dived deep into the holiday music on a couple of days. Tonight's post is from Chasing the Sun, a sexy short that might end up turning into a novella.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Chance Martin and Rena Chavez are best friends, and maybe something more, if their work will stop getting in the way. But when Chance can't deal with a set of orders to remove an admiral with lethal action, he starts a downward spiral he can't stop. Rena has to pull him back from the edge, no easy task because she always follows orders.

And a sneaky peek…

Rena sat reading the after action report from the Moru Zasu explosion. The space substation held a key position on the relay route from their home planet Xanxia to the newly discovered Celestene, a planet the central government coalition hoped to start settling soon. They had to if they wanted to ease the current population burden.

God, what a close call? Complete with bodies flying out of the blast area with the recon ship just barely getting clear of the explosion.

She huffed out a breath. "Did Chance even bother to mention it?" Nope. Just wrote down the facts and went on with his duties. Closed the file.

A full week ago.

Yeah… something's just not right with him.

Her pen tapped the pages of the report and Rena pondered how distant he'd become. "Chance Martin can do aloof and biting on his best day, but lately he's been over the top with it." Maybe that explained his almost complete withdrawal from social activities. "He never shows up for the late night poker fests anymore." And he sure doesn't haunt the tiny little bar in the far cargo hold of the Valor.

She'd looked for him on multiple occasions.

She hadn't seen him around much since his spacewalk. And truth told… she hadn't made much effort to hunt him down—other than checking the bar and poker games. She wondered if anyone had. Probably not. She didn't like the guilt trip that set in. It had teeth.

God, she hated when her conscience reared its ugly head.

But, dammit, Chance had stunned her when she had reached out after he ejected during a battle. His admission of not wanting to come back knocked her for a loop. Rock-solid Chance Martin had a death wish? It boggled her mind. "And I don't know how to deal with it."

So… she hadn't been there for him. Not really.

His confession messed up the way she viewed him and she had no idea what to say. "After all, I'm not the one who's supposed to skirt the boundaries and pull my ass out of the fire." No, that would be Chance, much to his father's dismay.

Being the son of a government official made him push against boundaries, sometimes going too far.

Rena played by the rules. Always went by the book unless everything else failed. And, okay, she tried to keep things loosely defined when it came to Chance, because he got her on a level no one else did. "But he's not allowed to do things like give up and not want to come home."

He was supposed to bounce back and be the same guy she'd known longer than anyone else on the ship. Not disengage from life and crawl inside his head to hide away from everyone who cared about him. But he did exactly that.

This one is coming together in fits and starts. I've got a solid idea of where I want things to go but the sages aren't always on the same page.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Call to Come Home

I wish I could say it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, but it's so not. LOL I'm hoping I can add some holiday cheer to the casa sometime this week. I think I'm going to make 2020 my year to finally purge a ton of stuff we no longer need or use.

Didn't have a great week of television, but did get a few things watched. We got a Disney + account through our wireless carrier so I did start a rewatch of the Gargoyles series. I have so many fond memories of this show when my oldest was little.

I finished the Gilmore Girls marathon and had some pretty intense feels. I watched sporadically when it originally aired, mainly because I had three youngish kiddos at the time. I really love the vibe of this show, even when I wanted to strangle the characters sometimes.

Caught another episode of Midsomer Murders and also realized series twenty isn't the last one. Yay!!

Caught a full story arc of Sapphire and Steel along with a full arc of Classic Who. I'd forgotten how much I truly disliked the Master way back when.

I finished out the week with The Trouble with Mistletoe, a Passionflix original. If you're not a member, consider signing up. I love the service!

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Call to Come Home, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Hollace is on a mission in enemy territory to retrieve power cells to keep their temporary base station running. She bumps into a man she shares a past with, the presumed-dead son of her commanding officer. When Verge refuses to leave with her, ignoring the call to come home, she takes matters into her own hands to reunite father and son… and to pick up where she and Verge left off.

And a sneaky peek…

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Hollace Winter stepped inside her commanding officer's space.

Vasser Olafsson glanced up from a stack of papers and Hollace bit back a gasp of surprise and alarm. He'd aged overnight. At least in the eyes that had seen too much fighting and devastation over the past two years.

Vasser nodded toward the seat across from his desk. "I did, Lieutenant. Take a seat." He shuffled the pages and tapped the bottom against the battered surface of the desk. "I have a mission for you but I'm not making it an order." He turned the pile of pages in her direction and pushed them toward her. "We're leaving Altera behind. You can see, starting on page three, the detailed list of why, but the reasons distill down to the planet is dying from this stupid, bloody war." He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Hollace flipped through the report, skimming the bold points, each one direr than the last. In essence, they had less than two months to get as many people off the anchorage that orbited Altera and hopefully plot a course to find a habitable place to call home.

She blew out a breath. "What's the mission, sir?" She'd do just about anything Olafsson asked because she respected the man who'd become a father figure.

Vasser opened his eyes. "Turn to page ninety-seven. You'll get the general idea." He waited until she found the big red empty box on that page. "If we're going to have any hope of making an evacuation a success, we'll need those power cells. If we don't get them, we can't start the agriculture project we'll need to feed everyone." He leaned forward again. "But you and I both know where those cells will be." His mouth thinned into a slash across his face.

Hollace nodded. "In enemy hands. That's why you won't make this an order, isn't it?" He'd hate to put anyone in such a precarious position, but his reason for not wanting her to take the mission had an added wrinkle.

Her history with Vasser's son, Verge, a former captain who'd resigned his commission before the war started. When Verge decided to pursue a degree in eco-preservation, the old man blew a gasket. Hollace didn't get between them when they all but came to blows but she wished she had.

Losing Verge had taken a toll on the stoic commander.

Olafsson folded his arms over his chest. "It's one of the reasons. The other is not wanting to risk any of my pilots. If we're going to evacuate, someone has to fly CAPs and the galley crew won't cut it." He shook his head. "A solo mission isn't ideal, but it's less intrusive than sending a full platoon down to stir up more fighting."

Hollace didn't hesitate. "I'll go, sir. But let's keep the details under wraps. I'll report to only to you and we launch with only the deck chief and landing signal officer's knowledge." Warming to the concept, she added a few more thoughts. "If I leave from the dark side of the station, I can be out of the tube and halfway to the planet before I show up on the radar."

Vasser gave her idea consideration. "Okay, you have a go." He pushed away from the desk and stood. "Lieutenant, it goes without saying I need you to come home… but I'm saying it anyway." He moved around and extended his hand toward her when she got up.

Hollace grasped his palm. "I appreciate hearing it, sir." She pulled him into a hug. "I won't disappoint you." Stepping away, she turned and headed for the exit.

Vasser followed her to the door and gave a nod before she left.

So much left unspoken, the biggest being how much regret he carried over the fallout with his son.

I love writing reunions and family drama. Hollace gets both is this story.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Call the Ball

Whew! Welcome to December. I had a crazy week of trying to find a working stove… okay, a stove with a working oven. It's funny. We get a new furnace and literally two days later, our oven takes a flying leap. The good news is, I didn't have to cook for the US Thanksgiving and we found a new stove.

Television took a back seat to both work and shopping for kitchen appliances. I did get the Murdoch Mysteries episode finished up and enjoyed it a lot.

I also caught a binge-watch of the Green Hornet. I love the vibe of that show. The movie vibe? Not so much.

Then… I fell down the Gilmore Girls rabbit hole and got sucked into a marathon that's still going on. I'd forgotten how much I really liked this show… even when the characters sometimes drove me bonkers.

I will say it's a great show to watch when insomnia strikes. And, man, the insomnia has been a right pain in my ass this past week. Actually, it's been longer than the week, but it really kicked in on Monday and hasn't backed off yet.

That's pretty much it for the mundane real-life stuff this week. Tonight's post is from Call the Ball, a sexy short that started with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Gwen keeps a tightly controlled leash on her feelings for Tag, thinking if she gives up control, she'll get lost in the passion. But when a simple game throws them together, she has to take a chance to see if sparks fly and, if so, how to quench the flame.

And a sneaky peek…

Tag frowned. "Why does she always clam up around me?" Every single time he entered her vicinity, Gwen got quiet and edgy.

Or snarky and snappish.

He huffed out a breath. "Flies like a seasoned veteran though." The woman could make planes dance to her tune.

Turning around, he found an empty table and settled down in one of the seats. He liked Gwen. She had a solid rep among the pilots and she worked her ass off to earn her promotion, which he helped decide. Her skill in the cockpit gave her high marks. But her people skills lacked polish. And he could help her develop those.

He kicked back in the chair. "If I can get a handle on why she gets skittish around me." He wanted her transition to the senior ranks to go smoothly.

Maybe the rec room antics later would loosen her up a little. If not, he'd have to have a discussion with Gwen to find out if she had issues he didn't know about. Earning her trust mattered, especially when the senior officers had to work so closely together. He enjoyed a great rapport with all of his pilots and he wanted to find an inroad with Gwen.

Barlow Biggles stopped by the table. "Is everyone going to be there tonight?"

Tag nodded. "Yeah, just had West confirm. Party of eight at eight."

Barlow's lips kicked up in a grin. "Nice to have new blood. I hope she's down for having a good time with our crazy bunch." He strolled away to dump his tray.

Tag had no idea if Gwen would enjoy the silly and sometimes juvenile games the senior pilots loved to play. But it would be a good test to see how well she'd fit in. And hopefully give him a clue how to get him to open up a little.

This is a fun little story to dive into. I'll see if I can't get it finished up and out into the world.

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

ML Skye