Get Hooked: Reel in a Great Book—Shyler: Finding Home (A Furlough 99 Novella) #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'm revisiting one of my first releases, Shyler: Finding Home, one of the offerings from the Furlough 99 line from Ellipses Press. I'll be posting a series of pivotal scenes over the next couple of weeks. Please enjoy!

Today's post features how Shyler meets Marsh.

Book Tagline: Inspector Shyler Lumen always gets her man—even if she has to go through Marshton Grey to do it.

Series Tagline: Furlough 99: The last stop before uncharted space. Welcome to the ass end of the universe.

~*~

Shyler smiled with satisfaction. She had her shadow neutralized in under thirty seconds, but something didn’t feel quite right. The guy was built. Solid. Muscular. Hard.

Why didn't he resist?

And dammit, she felt a zing. Did he have to be so flipping handsome, too? She couldn't let herself be distracted by super hot shadow man.

She huffed out a breath to regroup and got down to business.

She let go of his head, but kept her legs strategically positioned. "Well, hell. I'd hoped you'd at least try to fight back so I could use lethal force if necessary."

A whiskey smooth voice, answered with casual ease. "My mother taught me to never argue with a woman. Especially one who packs a punch."

Interesting thing for a mother to teach her son. Shyler tried a different approach.

"You have five seconds to tell me why you're following me." And explain the lack of trying to break free. "Who are you?"

Her prisoner slowly lifted his right hand. "If I may?" He made a downward motion, toward his back pocket.

The man had a truly fine ass.

Available on Amazon

More e-retailers coming soon!

~*~

Series Blurb: The last stop before the emptiness of unknown space, Furlough 99 is inhabited with a myriad of personalities, each one looking for something different, something they can only find at the end of the line. With a bar called the Den of Inequity and a whole station devoted to pleasure and hedonism, there's nothing that can't be found here, or won't.

Book Blurb: Inspector Shyler Lumen and entrepreneur Marshton Gray don't have much in common. A manhunt for a brilliantly mad chemist brings them together and sparks fly. Shyler and Marsh can fight the wave of change… or grab hold and go along for the ride.

~*~

~*~

Please stop by my website

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

Sunday Snippet: Domestic Partners

June 15, 2014

Happy Father's Day to all the fathers and father figures out there!

So… Orphan Black is almost over for this season and *eep* I still have way more questions than answers. That said, I don't care. I love everything about this season. Although, I guess I should ask if it's really wrong I pretty much cheered on Helena throughout last night's entire episode? No? Good. And Donnie and Alison. Twisted and creepy, but holy shit, I laughed, even though I shouldn't have. :D

Tonight's post is from Domestic Partners, a novella where my main couple gets to revisit their history, whether they want to or not.

Here's the tagline:

Tabby and Hale pretend to be domestic partners to keep the man who killed her husband from getting his hands on her. But when they're forced to live together, sparks and tempers fly, because Tabby broke a promise she made to Hale and he's not going to let her forget it.

And a sneaky peek…

Hale caught sight of Lawrence skulking around Tabby's tent. Thinking fast, Hale flipped out his knife and cut a long slice in the heavy canvas, slid inside, and quickly crawled into bed with Tabby. She stirred and he clamped his hand over her mouth. He jerked his head toward the door and her eyes widened when she noticed the shadowy figure lurking outside. She relaxed and he removed his hand from her mouth.

When the door latch rattled, Hale leaned in, kissing Tabby while quickly toeing his boots off to land on the soft, woven carpet beside the bed. Tabby responded and the embrace spun out and heated up.

The door cracked open and Tabby tensed for a brief moment, the only indication she gave of knowing they were no longer alone. Lawrence entered her home, but neither let on, pretending to be so wrapped up in each other that they couldn't hear him. Tabby moaned Hale's name, acting oblivious to the prowling figure in the entrance.

Hale deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past her lips and sliding his hand under her shirt to palm a breast. Lawrence still lingered, remaining silent in the shadows. Tabby pushed things a little more, dragging Hale's shirt off, going further and removing her own. She unfastened his pants and dipped her hand inside. Hale took the hint and shoved his fatigues past his hips then dragged her panties to the side. Angling her back, he maneuvered between her legs, getting into position. Running his lips along her shoulder, Hale poised to enter Tabby.

The door shut quietly and Tabby grabbed ahold of Hale's ass. "Hale."

Hale snapped back to reality, blinking to meet her gaze.

She whispered. "He's gone." Reaching around, she found her shirt and quickly pulled it back over her head.

Hale collapsed sideways. "Right, yeah." He huffed out a harsh breath and relaxed.

All but one part of him. Yanking his pants up, he left them unfastened until he could get the rigid length under control.

Tabby scrambled up and shoved him off the bed. "What the flaming hell, Hale?" She stumbled off the mattress and fished around for her fatigues. "If you ever pull a stunt like again, I'll do bodily harm."

Hale shook his head. "I just saved your life. Or at the very least kept you from being hauled to the detention center." He snagged his shirt from under the covers and pulled it over his head. "You could show a little gratitude."

Tabby snorted. "Maybe I would if you'd filled me in beforehand." She lit a lantern and slid the inside lock on the latch.

Hale tilted his head to the side, confused.

Tabby rolled her eyes. "You had to know he could be a problem." She jabbed her finger into his shoulder. "You should have said something."

Hale lifted a brow. "Would you have believed me?" As if. She barely spoke to him on a good day.

Tabby sighed. "Probably not." She growled low in her throat. "And now we have a big ass problem."

Hale frowned. "Shit." He probably should've thought the possible repercussions out a little more.

Tabby nodded. "Yeah. Lawrence thinks we're a couple. That means we're gonna have to act like it now."

Let the fun begin! LOL

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Wait No More

I hope everyone survived the holiday!

My family had a wonderful day—no traveling, just staying home all nice and cozy with our new tech gear and good food. I watched more holiday television episodes and said good-bye to Matt Smith's Doctor. I'm still not quite settled in with the idea of the new actor, but I'll give him a chance.

Looking forward to my fave shows returning. Almost Human, Sleepy Hollow, Arrow, The Tomorrow People, Walking Dead, Sherlock, and probably a few I’m forgetting at the moment. Currently watching a Farscape marathon on Pivot then switching over to some recorded stuff I haven't watched yet.

Tonight's post is from the novella, Wait No More, featuring two characters that get the chance to re-explore the road not traveled.

Here's the tagline:

Zoey Blythe pushes Cash Mateson out of her life when she sees how much good he can do as an elected official. Ten years later, their paths cross again and Zoey realizes she should have fought a little harder to stay by Cash's side. Heading up the security detail for Cash's campaign, Zoey feels the spark again, but marriages and careers are on the line, even if she doesn't want to wait anymore.

And the sneaky peek…

"Cash. Did you read who your head of security will be?"

Cash Mateson continued working with his tie, trying to decide what type of knot he wanted to attempt. His mentor, dead and buried a week ago, used to do the same before a big speech. Life in the political arena tended to be nothing but.

"Cash?" His wife prompted, waiting a response.

Starting over with the tie, Cash answered. "Not yet. Haven't got started on the morning memos." Satisfied with his appearance, he exited his dressing room.

Delia Mateson perched on the edge of their bed, perfectly dressed, as usual. A frown marred her face and a sinking feeling hit Cash's gut. He dreaded her next words.

"Sub-Commander Zoey Blythe." She rose and almost bumped into him when he sank down, feeling like he'd smacked up against an aerobus.

Her wide eyes met his. "Cash, how do you want to handle this?"

He took a moment, his gaze sweeping over Delia. She looked stunning and the sun had barely broken the horizon yet. Cash let his eyes roam over her trim frame and wished, not for the first time, he loved his wife with passion.

But he didn't. And Delia knew and understood. His lack of abiding feeling didn't stop her from working tirelessly to propel his career forward.

Sometimes he didn't know why she stuck around.

"Cash?"

He blinked. "Yeah, sorry." He rose and grabbed his jacket. "We'll handle it like we do everything else. Head on." He shrugged into the coat and made his way toward the door. He'd fix the tie on the ride to the office.

Delia smiled. "Shall I schedule a time for you to meet with the chief? To make a new choice?" She wrapped a light shawl about her shoulders.

Cash shook his head. "Why bother?" He exited their room and trotted down the stairs.

Delia caught up with him, grabbing his arm. "History, Cash. Think of the backlash if it's dredged up." Her hand slid down and grasped his.

He scoffed. "Ancient history, Deal." Not in the mood, he made a turn toward the kitchen. Coffee sounded great.

Delia followed, unable to let the matter drop. "No such thing as ancient history, Cash. That's what most people are interested in." She poured two mugs, adding sugar to hers.

Cash pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Don't worry about it, Delia. We'll muddle through just fine." He lifted the hot liquid, blowing across the top. "Why rock the boat? Especially if we don't want to make waves." He turned and entered his office, effectively shutting the topic down.

Delia sighed softly. "Because Zoey Blythe is a tsunami waiting to happen… and you still love her."

~:~

Delia nails the problem with complete accuracy. Zoey is the one who got away for Cash and the tidal wave will be unstoppable when they cross paths again. This one has been really fun, but challenging to write. Not sure when I'll complete it, but I think it'll be a good story once it's done.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: To Create a Spy

Hello!

Okay, getting the TV stuff out of the way first, as always, but did you watch the Arrow mid-season finally? If you didn't, why not!! Seriously, the show keeps getting better and better, and it was already pretty damned great. :D

Sons of Anarchy finale this week and whoa. I seriously have no idea how anything will play out. Sutter never quite goes where I think he will and that's part of what I love about the show.

Walking Dead gave me a very satisfactory finale even if it killed off one of my favorite characters. Can't ask for more than that, right?

I'm hoping to start Almost Human in the near future and catch up so I can watch in real time. I've heard very good things about the show.

Tonight's post is from the novella, To Create a Spy. Set in the future, it should have at least one follow up, probably two to tell the whole story. This one is almost complete but the sages have been tight-lipped lately. Maybe posting will loosen their tongues a little.

Here's the tagline:

Mariah St. James isn't what she appears to be when she's recruited by a covert black ops group hell bent on using her supposed skill set. But when she finds an ally in Matthew Jamison, she thinks she might actually survive the rigorous and deadly training… until he betrays her by leaving her alone in a dangerous situation.

And a sneaky peek…

Mariah woke up slowly, taking mental stock, breathing a quiet sigh of relief to have a clear head and no restraints. Past experience taught her not to betray the fact she'd awakened, so she kept her eyes closed while trying to piece everything together. And her memory felt fragmented. The last thing she recalled—before those shocking blue eyes—the homely prison nurse directing a couple of burly guards to 'put her in the jacket'. After that, she had no clue what the hell happened or where she ended up.

Definitely didn't end up in the prison infirmary or hospital. Too damn quiet. And it smelled clean. And those brilliant eyes… no one in the hellhole facility had eyes like that. She'd had all of a few fuzzy seconds to see them, yet the memory remained vivid in her mind, outweighing her terror of everything else.

Back and shoulders aching—no doubt from fighting the restraints—Mariah decided she couldn't remain still any longer, and lifted her head to slowly scan her surroundings. Her muscles screamed in agony—God, it hurt to move—she must've been straining against the fetters for a long time.

How long exactly? One of the big questions slamming into her brain.

Sinking back against the pillow, she thought maybe she'd wait before trying to move again. Eventually the answers would come and she honestly didn't know if she'd like them.

She had a feeling she wouldn't.

~:~

Sitting silently, Matthew Jamison watched the monitor, observing the subject with what appeared to be dispassionate interest. A schooled guise, one he'd learned and honed to perfection. Not for anything would he let on how riveted to the screen his attention remained, memorizing the features of the woman resting on the cot—taking in each and every nuance, the sound of her breathing, the flutter of her lashes against her skin, the rise and fall of her chest.

He'd have to tread very lightly with this one, keep his piqued interest a carefully buried secret. It wouldn't do for his associate, sitting less than two feet away, to discover just how keenly he wanted to work with this one. There was something about her, something he couldn't put his finger on, that called to him.

Which could prove to be very dangerous.

Division had a way of sucking the life out of everyone, himself included, but he'd felt a spark when administering the cocktail of drugs that put Mariah into a deep, restful sleep, counteracting the toxic combination running through her bloodstream. A spark could flash and burn or smolder along the edges before finally catching flame. Matthew had spent so much time at Division, trained so many people who'd become faceless entities that either moved through to the next phase or entered containment that it surprised him to actually feel something with this woman.

Her file implied a level of violence he'd never seen in a trainee before. Convicted of multiple counts of murder, vicious displays each, the rest of the information on her didn't mesh with. It was the standard psych profile for a serial runaway. Whatever drove her to carve her victims' faces to ribbons before coldly plunging the blade into their heart would be tapped into, exploited and then molded into what Division considered a functioning operative.

Mariah St. James also had the face of an angel and a body made for sin. Two very powerful assets that would serve her well on active status. Matthew rarely indulged in speculation about new recruits… but his instincts about this one were on overload. She could go either way.

He had a strong desire for her to make it.

A careful movement from the subject, brief as it was, caught his cohort’s attention.

“Hmm… she’s awake.” Caroline Adder made a notation on her screen, logging the time.

Matthew calmly glanced at her. “She has been for thirty minutes.”

Caroline's narrowed eyes didn’t faze him. His statement didn't comment on her ability—Caroline acted as the number two at Division. She relied on machines, technology and periphery observations too much sometimes. They caused her to miss subtle details.

Matthew watched people… observed every degree of change. He knew the moment Mariah woke up because there was a very subtle shift in the cadence of her breathing. But she was good… maybe something in her past allowed the practiced ease she had in feigning sleep.

Whatever… he'd soon know… as he would know everything there was about her.

Rising, he gave Caroline a curt nod then exited the small viewing area to begin Phase One.

I always, always see Roy Dupuis in my head when writing Matthew. A blast from the past, but a terrific inspiration when it comes to having a low-key character who holds so much so deeply. J

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Personal Involvement

Hi!

Okay, I can't discuss Strike Back just yet, but I will say I love shows where NOBODY is safe. Speaking of no one being safe, Sons of Anarchy returns Tuesday and I'm ready to start marking the death toll. LOL

Now for something a little less morbid. J Tonight's post is from Personal Involvement and features one of my favorite angsty set-ups…personal involvement in the military and the fallout that smacks the characters in the face. J

Here's the tagline:

Tarin Glade gets caught up in a nightmare when she's brought before a disciplinary council for her personal involvement with a student who failed basic flight. When Ellis Spector, the brother of the complainant, speaks on Tarin's behalf, it rocks the foundation of his family—especially since the commandant who brought the charges is Ellis's father.

And a sneaky peek…

Ellis rose from his spot behind Tarin and strode to the docket. "Admiral Chekwick, Ellis Spector for the defense."

The admiral blinked and cocked his head. "Just a moment, Lieutenant Spector, you're here to give testimony on behalf of the defendant?" He shuffled the pages in the file folder. "But your brother is the complainant."

Ellis gave a terse nod. "Yes, Admiral."

Chekwick lifted a brow. "Care to explain that one, young man?"

Ellis heaved an inward sigh. "Sir, Ensign Glade, upheld her sworn duty. She recognized a lack of true commitment on Cadet Spector's part and wouldn't forward him on to the qualifications test." He paused. "She did this in spite of being under pressure from Commandant Spector to send his boy to earn his wings."

Ellis kept as much heat out of his voice as he could and prayed he'd succeeded.

The admiral studied Ellis. "You have strong feelings about this."

He made it a statement, but Ellis clarified. "I have strong feelings about my brother's life—which Ensign Glade saved by not passing him." He glanced toward his brother. "Regardless of the cost to her career, she wouldn't cave on her decision."

The admiral's mouth thinned to a straight slash across his face. "Lieutenant, are you daring to assume you know the outcome of this tribunal?"

Ellis shook his head. "Quite the contrary, Admiral. I'm speaking solely about the fact she'll suffer a black mark on her record whether she's cleared here or not." Ellis shot his father a direct look.

The admiral took notice. "Your old man has a lot of pull, Lieutenant."

Ellis nodded. "Yes, Sir, he does. And he's earned every bit of it." He stopped there, keeping his tone respectful.

The admiral's lips quirked. "He has. Let's hope he chooses to use that sway to the betterment of Ensign Glade's career instead of making it detrimental."

Ellis wanted to pump his fist in the air. Tarin would walk away from the tribunal free and clear. And the admiral basically laid it out for the old man. Don't screw with her—even commandants can earn black marks.

Checkwick asked an additional question. "Lieutenant, can you confirm, for the record, that the break-up between Ensign Glade and Cadet Spector has nothing to do with the flight qualifications?"

An unexpected turn, and possibly a tricky situation to avert. Ellis took a moment and gathered his words carefully. "If I may speak freely, Sir?"

The admiral nodded. "Go ahead, young man."

Ellis nodded toward his brother. "My brother entered Ensign Glade's class after they started dating. I can't state why he kept his enrollment a secret from her, but I can confirm she had no preconception he'd be there on the first day, and was, in fact, shocked to see him."

So shocked she'd all but dragged him out of the classroom to dress him down for not being where he should be.

Ellis continued. "From that first day, she informed Cadet Spector he wouldn't receive any kind of preferential treatment and would have to pull his weight or risk failure. I was headed for the classroom to wish Cadet Spector luck when I witnessed that conversation."

The admiral inclined his head. "Go on, Lieutenant."

Ellis finished his statement. "I can't, in good faith, say the break-up has nothing to do with the qualifications. I think it has everything to do with Eddie not being allowed to go forward. But he's the one who initiated the split—after Ensign Glade refused to sign off on his simulation scores."

Eddie stood up. "I never told you I'm the one who broke up with Ensign Glade."

Ellis prayed the admiral would take the opening provided.

The superior officer asked. "Were you, Cadet?"

Eddie realized his mistake too late. He had no choice but to answer truthfully or risk court martial for lying under oath.

Shoulders slumped, he answered. "Yes, Sir."

The admiral pressed forward. "When, exactly, did you inform Ensign Glade you no longer wanted to be in a relationship, Cadet?"

Eddie shot the elder Spector a sideways glance. "The same day Commandant Spector spoke with her and she refused to let me take the flight test."

Ephram rose, turned on his heel, and exited the room. Ellis had hoped for the reaction, wanting his dad to understand Eddie's deceit and put Tarin in the absolute clear. Ellis met the admiral's gaze, hoping the man understood why Ellis had taken some liberty with how he presented the facts. His old man needed to have his eyes opened and realize Eddie played both sides against the middle. And couldn't be allowed to do it anymore.

The admiral motioned for Ellis to be seated. "Ensign Glade."

Tarin rose from her seat and faced the admiral.

"The charges before me are hereby dismissed and you'll return to active duty at 0700 tomorrow morning." He lifted the gavel, ended the proceeding.

Ellis risked a glance toward Tarin. She kept her eyes ahead and shoulders straight even though she'd been cleared. Ellis admired the discipline she exhibited. So not her style, but maybe she'd learned a little something from tangled aftermath of dealing with his brother.

Once the admiral exited the room, Tarin turned and made her way to Ellis. "You're an idiot, but I can't thank you enough."

Ellis grinned. "Yes, you can. Have dinner with me then come to my place for movies and popcorn."

She chuckled. "A free meal and entertainment? How can I refuse?"

Ellis shook his head. "You can't. I'll pick you up at seven."

She laughed. "Make it five. I have an early day tomorrow."

He smiled. "Five it is." He started for the exit. "Carpathian seafood?"

Tarin nodded. "It's my favorite. And action movies. None of those lame comedies."

Ellis paused by the door. "I have an entire shelf of them. We'll go alphabetically."

He left to the sound of Tarin's peals of laughter.

Ahhh, seems like all is well, right? It's not. LOL But that's another post on a different day.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Down and Dirty

Greetings!

Happy St. Paddy's Day to those who celebrate. And honestly, why don't we all? :D

I've been fighting one of those nagging headaches all day. The kind that hovers in the background and becomes annoying, but not overly painful. Bleh.

But…a post must be made!

Tonight's preview is from what I hope will be a free download if and when I ever get my lengthy space saga trilogy completed and published. Down and Dirty outlines the betting pool that features heavily in the first book of the trilogy, Follow Me.

Here's the tagline:

The tale behind how a certain pool gets started that put Sloan and Molly in the hot seat. And how Specialist Neve Campbell thought she might have caught them in the act.

And here's a wee sneaky peek…

The nearly empty flight deck sounded oddly quiet on third watch. Only the deck chief, Keegan Douglas and Specialist Neve Carlyle remained, handling some routine maintenance reports and cleaning up. The chief sat on a stool at one of the workstations, catching up on the paperwork. Specialist Carlyle cleaned up around the perimeter of the flight deck with her push broom, every once in a while she'd stop to spray down a workstation and wipe it clean. Neither the Chief nor Neve paid much attention to the two pilots in a darkened corner of the deck where a mangled bird needed extensive repairs.

Finishing up a workstation, Specialist Carlyle took a moment before she started sweeping again. Resting her chin on the handle of the broom, she stared dreamily, her mind flitting back to an earlier incident after the first dog CAP.

Phoenix—Lieutenant Molly Ryan—came in hot and landed hard. The CAG—Captain Sloan MacNeill—read her his riot act. Not that Neve blamed him. The lieutenant pulled a daredevil maneuver against the captain's orders and cut it too close. If the CAG hadn't jumped her shit, the chief would have. The space carrier's planes were his babies and he got very protective…and extremely grouchy…when pilots decided to play rough with them.

Neve stumbled onto the scene on her way back from the mess. If she'd known what would go down, she'd have brought popcorn. Keegan…Chief Douglas…hovered close to the action, which drew Neve's attention right away. The chief rarely stood still on the deck. He preferred a constant state of motion, the better to put out fires with a quick response. Neve stopped and followed his line of sight to the CAG and his top pilot.

Her breath caught in her throat. It usually did when the captain and lieutenant got within five feet of each other. Even when they argued—usually a daily occurrence—something, chemistry maybe, oozed back and forth. Sloan and Molly had a history and baggage with each other, but the depth of feeling, always there, defined their friendship. Lieutenant Ryan pushed MacNeill's buttons, but everyone knew she respected him. That helped smooth the way when he took over as CAG.

It really saved the day when Captain MacNeill had to get in the lieutenant's face. Molly often stood toe to toe and argued with him, but she held the key to his acceptance among the other pilots and crew. The fact Molly approved of him meant everyone else did. And the current turmoil made it vitally important. The pilots were the front line defense, protecting the fleet and providing safe passage. Neve wouldn't hesitate to admit she appreciated having them around. Being on the run and having them as backup made her take extra special care with her duties. Even something as mundane as cleaning up the flight deck.

Neve worked her way around the hangar and edged closer the bent plane, but she hadn't made it far enough to see who lingered there. Besides, the darkened corner could wait a few minutes for the swipe of her broom. Maybe she'd get lucky and they'd leave before she reached it. She hoped none of the nuggets decided to try the chief’s patience by sneaking in a quickie on the flight deck.

It would not go over well. Just last week he'd caught two newbie crewmen all hot and heavy in one of the transports. Her ears still rang from the scathing lecture he'd delivered. Neve wondered if maybe he'd been listening to the CAG and picking up pointers. Captain MacNeill blasted Lieutenant Ryan not long ago for disobeying a direct order. Neve would totally deny it, but watching them go a round always made her a little hot under the collar.

And why wouldn't it? The air between the captain and lieutenant literally crackled. Neve took a moment, letting the scene play out in her head.

Sloan moved with purpose when Molly exited her wounded bird. "You pulled a hot dog move after I ordered you not to." His voice rose with each word. "And what happened, lieutenant?"

The fact Sloan reported directly to his father didn't faze Molly in the slightest. She held a place of importance in the commander's life, too.

She rolled her eyes. "I cut it a little close. So what?"

The captain made a strangled, choking sound. "A little close? You're insane." He lowered his voice. "Any closer and the deck crew would be welding on new wings, Lieutenant."

Molly looked away and shrugged. "Yeah, well. I told you I needed to let off some steam."

Sloan exploded. "Only crazy people do barrel rolls when the landing bay doors are closing.

Molly's eyes snapped back to his. "I got in, didn't I?" Her face dared him to counter the fact.

Sloan snorted. "Barely, Lieutenant. You barely got in. And you will make the repairs to the landing struts."

Molly's nostrils flared, but she held her temper. "Whatever. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Sloan snapped. "Fine."

Molly mimicked. "Fine."

Each stalked off in opposite directions.

Neve shook her head. They should just lock themselves in a supply closet and be done with it.

Chief Douglas shot her a look and Neve realized she'd said the thought out loud.

She blushed. "Er, sorry, Chief." Her mouth always seemed to get ahead of her brain.

Keegan cocked his head to the side. "Actually, Specialist. You might be onto something." His eyes followed the CAG's angry progress toward the office. "They're either gonna screw each other or kill each other. Hard to say which."

Neve pondered his words, keeping an eye on Molly when she yanked her flight suit down to her waist then glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze following the CAG's progress away from the flight deck. "No. They won't kill each other. It's a matter of when or where they'll hook up."

The chief grabbed a clipboard and a fresh sheet of paper. "I'll take that action. Date and time, Specialist."

Neve gaped. "You're serious, Sir?"

He snorted. "Hell, yes. Those two going at each other is like foreplay. Sooner or later, they'll cave." He handed her the clipboard.

And with a stroke of a pen, a pool had been started.

And there you have it. You'll have to come back once I get Follow Me published and see why Neve thought she might have caught the CAG and his top pilot in action. LOL

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Dance with Destiny

Whew. Busy week. I've managed to almost tame the mountains of laundry I never seem to get caught up with. It's weird to see empty sorting bins. LOL

For this week's post, I'll be previewing a snippet from Dance with Destiny, a follow up to An Answer to Fate. Jeb and Quillan have been through some interesting twists and turns and have to find their way back to each other. There should be one more book that wraps up their whole story.

Here's the tagline:

A prophecy discovered leads to a dance with destiny. Quillan and Jeb have to find their way back to each other and might just tempt fate to do it.

And here's a wee sneaky peek…

"Quill, I love you."

The same dream came. Jeb always proclaimed his love and she woke up. This time the unsettled feeling didn't linger. Instead calm imbued her and Quillan closed her eyes, breathing deeply, clearing her mind.

She might as well talk to her haunting lover.

Why the hell shouldn't she? Might help with the grief.

"You're more annoying now than ever." She sat back down, deciding to wait on a sleeping aid.

"Ah…there's my snarky woman. Thought maybe I'd lost her somewhere."

"Jeb?"

"About time, Quill. I'm going a little nuts here."

Jeb's voice became stronger, clearer. Didn't have the tunnel-like quality from earlier. Hell, it sounded like he'd taken up residence in her head. "Figures you'd come back to haunt me in full blown Technicolor, complete with fully constructed rooms."

"Ha! You're close, but not quite spot on. I can't haunt you, Quillan. I don't appear to be dead."

"Really? Well, hell." Not dead. She took one moment to let the thrilled relief hit her. "Okay. Okay. I'm gonna run with the idea. What exactly are you doing then? And where is here?"

An image fluttered through her head. The room, filled with books and scrolls, looked as ancient as the texts.

"Right now? I'm sitting in a huge room filled with books."

"You're in a library?"

"Of a sort. Can we move on? I'm not sure how long this connection or whatever will last."

Quillan shook her head. "How, exactly, are you pulling this off?"

Jeb sounded distant. "No clue, but I think I'm communicating through some sort of, well, hell, I'm not really sure." He didn't wait for a response. "There's some bizarre contraption with tubes holding a human captive. I think they've been drugged."

Son of a bitch. Quillan knew exactly what he meant. "They call them hybots. The people being held have telepathic ability and the cyborgs use the drugs to dampen everything else. They basically jack them into their ships and make the hostages act as the brain."

He might not be dead, but geez, his position couldn't be worse.

And there you have it. Quillan is going to have her hands full trying to find out where Jeb is located. Have to admit, it's fun trying to keep their close connection even though they're light years apart.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Covert Heart

Writing my blog post while watching Blood and Chrome, and I'll freely admit any typos or glitchy things are all on me. I've already seen the web episodes, but there's something very satisfying about something from start to finish in one go (um, minus the commercial interruptions anyway. LOL)

So…tonight's Sunday Snippet is from a novella that's about half way completed. Covert Heart is a mashup of Sci Fi with spy stuff. Two of my favorite genres. J

Here's the tagline:

An impossible task. A couple sworn to carry it out or die trying. One big test of the depth of their courage and love.

And here's the wee sneaky peek…

Emma Wells enjoyed her work. She didn't have deep political aspirations but the process of watching everything unfold fascinated her. When the opportunity came for attachment to the covert security force that protected the highest government officials, Emma jumped at the chance to be on the team.

She had no regrets. Whether undercover or working from the trenches, she loved what she did. She'd bumped into Rick McBride when he had a character persona, Rick Martin, fully embedded. An asshat personality, one she wanted to bitchslap within five seconds of meeting. Forced to work with him, she had to rein in the desire to kill him by the end of the first week. By chance, she'd arrived early for an event she ran security for and caught him in a conversation with the chancellor of the planetary alliance…who happened to be his father. Only she hadn't known that at the time.

A completely different man emerged and Emma wondered what the hell she'd walked into. She did some subtle digging and found holes in his credentials. Again, she watched and waited, keeping a very keen eye on his every move. If Rick stepped out line by an inch, she'd take him out.

Another week went by before she confronted him, or well, he confronted her. She'd give him credit, he didn't break cover. Instead he put on a flawless performance, walking into her office, a grim look on his face. Apparently her very quiet probe into his background hadn't gone unnoticed. He dropped the asshat persona the man she'd caught a glimpse of earlier emerged. Sharp, intelligent, and keenly aware of her mistrust, he closed her door and settled himself in the empty chair beside her desk.

Emma barely kept her jaw from dropping when he asked one simple question.

"Why?"

Fully expecting a full blown meltdown or interrogation, she had a list of answers prepped and memorized. Members of the same security team did not run background checks on each other, but she'd come up with several plausible excuses if she hadn't covered her trail. Her only problem? None of her replies could answer such a supremely vague query?

Emma quirked a brow. "Are you asking me why I think you're an egotistical pain in the ass?" As a cover it stuck very close to the truth. "I can give you the rundown in numerical or alphabetical order." She met and held his gaze. "Which do you prefer?"

Rick barked out a laugh. "Great answer." He rose from the seat. "And we'll leave it at that…for now." He crossed the office and opened the door, looking back over his shoulder. "I do strongly suggest you refrain from any more hacking until this detail is over." He left without another word.

Emma's eyes widened. By rights, he should have reported her to the chancellor and she wondered why he hadn't. His amusement puzzled her, and she didn't trust him enough to not be wary. He also hadn't quite convinced her there wasn't more to the walking, talking asshole image he presented either.

Curiosity piqued, she followed him for two days before he turned the tables on her. Again. She returned home after losing him in the throng of people outside a gala art show only to find the man sitting in her living room, drinking her best liquor.

Emma had her weapon drawn and aimed within seconds.

He raised his glass. "You've got excellent taste." He drained the contents. "And you can put the gun away. I'm not here to hurt you."

She snorted, but slowly lowered the sidearm, keeping it in her hand. "What are you doing here?"

Rick's lips curved in a half smile. "Why are you following me?" He leaned forward and poured another drink.

Emma shrugged. "I don't trust you. There's something you're not telling me and it's my job to know everything about the upcoming event." She raised a brow, daring him to deny her words.

Rick considered her for several moments. "You're smarter than you look." He kicked back, making himself comfortable.

Emma bit her tongue to keep from saying the first insulting thing that popped into her head. Instead she asked, "Meaning I look what? Stupid?"

Rick smirked. "No, not stupid. But getting past the tits and teeth to see the intelligent woman probably isn't something most men do."

She didn't whether to be insulted or complimented. "Never let the package fool you. You'll prove yourself to be the utter prick everyone thinks you are."

He laughed. "Touche. And very well said." He took a long sip of the alcohol. "You've got a meeting with Chancellor McBride at 0900 tomorrow." He finished the drink. "I strongly suggest you not miss it."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Care to tell me what it's all about?" She'd definitely make the meet, but wanted to see if he'd give anything away.

Rick placed his glass on the table. "Just be there." He rose and strode toward her front door. "And play down the beauty queen angle. The chancellor gets easily distracted." Pulling open the door, he gave her a farewell salute and left.

Emma sank down on the loveseat and shook her head. "Dickhead." Pouring a healthy amount of liquor in Rick's empty glass, she gulped it down.

She hoped her meeting with Chancellor McBride solved the enigma of Rick Martin.

She had no idea how hard that would bite her on the ass.

Emma and Rick don't have the most conventional beginning, but they do find some very common ground. Then get tossed into a ton of intrigue. Fun times. LOL

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Command Authority

Even the Super Bowl food coma I want to be in won't keep me from posting my weekly snippet. :D Seriously, I'm blessed with a husband who makes the BEST party food ever. Buffalo chicken dip, nachos, barbecue chicken drumsticks and thighs, and pizza. And okay, he didn't do the pizza from scratch this time, but who cares? Everything tasted so good I just want a nice, long nap. :D

But…Sunday Snippet first. Tonight's post is from Command Authority, another fairly focused short story that could end up heading into novella length. The sages are a little cagey about how everything is going to come together. LOL

Here's a tagline:

Addie Varns and Neal Columbo are thisclose to having everything they want, namely each other, when Neal gets promoted to commander. Used to being on equal footing, Addie needs some time to adjust to the new chain of leadership. Neal gives her some space, but if need be, he'll invoke his command authority.

And here's the wee sneaky peek…

Addie kicked back on the bunk in her cell, nose buried deep in a book. Pilots from both ships had dropped by, each one bearing something for her to read. With the exception of Porkchop, he'd brought her an adult magazine chock full of naked men. Addie refrained from asking why he had one in his possession.

A series of beeps followed by the jangle of keys interrupted her reading respite. Addie glanced up from the pages of her book.

"Let's go, Captain. You're sprung."

Addie stared at the marine corporal. "Seriously? Old Shitface told me I'd be here at least two weeks this time." Not that she blamed him. Seven times in two weeks was excessive. Even for her.

The corporal sent her a bland look while she gathered up her pile of reading material. Smart guy. Old Shitface could put him on latrine duty.

He cracked a smile. "Someone's got pull higher than him." The corporal winked.

Addie grinned. Neal. And the old man. At least when Neal made deals, he went straight to the top. Behind the scenes maybe, but not underhanded or double backed. And Neal's crew wouldn't have to worry they'd feel the bite. Neal would bear the full brunt of any backlash.

Not that there'd be any.

Addie shook her head. "I can't believe it." She stepped out of her home away from home setting the books on the meal cart outside the door.

The corporal shoved a clipboard in front of her. "Believe it." She signed the release. "Sign this one, too." He lifted the top page to reveal another one beneath it.

Add shot him a questioning look.

"Transfer papers, Captain. You're headed back home." His cheeky grin made her smile.

The corporal calling the Ganymead home made her chuckle. "That obvious, is it?" She scribbled her name a second time.

The man shrugged. "You guys aren't in everyone's face, but we've known you a long time." He tore off her copy. "There's no one who isn't damned happy for you."

Addie rolled her eyes. "Except Old Shitface."

The corporal didn't bat an eye. "That guy doesn't do happy. His loss."

Addie couldn't argue. "Guess I'll see you around, then. Thanks for letting everyone smuggle the books in." She nodded toward the towering pile.

He flashed a smile. "Couldn't stand watching you climb the walls."

Addie snorted. "Hey, I did a mess of pushups, too." She stuck out her hand. "Seriously, thanks."

Corporal Gant pumped her hand then held it. "You two are good for each other. Remember that."

Addie nodded. "I will." She left the brig and went to pack her gear.

Poor Addie. A little background…she got transferred back to a different ship when her relationship with Neal went public. Neither fared well, but Addie lashed out often enough to get sent to the brig almost every other day. :D Love can be a very messy thing sometimes. LOL

Until next week, catch everyone on the flip!

ML Skye

Exciting News!!! Watch This Space...

Coming Soon...

Surviving the Trap

An original novel

by

M.L. Skye

Watch this space for more information.