Sunday Snippet: Intimate Bond

I hope everyone had a terrific Thanksgiving, if celebrating. I had an oddly weird week. My youngest is in quarantine because she ended up being exposed to Covid at her university. Thankfully, she could go to my dad's house to isolate from the rest of us—he was out of town visiting my brother. She got her test on Friday and we should have the results by Wednesday—fingers crossed. She's restricting herself to an upstairs bedroom and bathroom and carefully disinfecting anything she touches. And, of course, she's keeping a mask on unless she's in the bedroom. Needless to say, she's not having a lot of fun, but we'd all rather be safe and limit other exposure.

The middle kiddo has GERD. He's been five days free from throwing up, thank whatever rules the universe—and a prescription for a strong acid reducer. Considering he spent anywhere from two to four hours at a time being sick for over ten days, he's feeling way better. He'll be changing a few things in his diet to hopefully help alleviate the symptoms even more.

Happy to say my oldest is doing just fine. He's getting ready to move out in the near future and looking forward to having more space.

Had a decent week watching television. I started off with a full arc of Classic Who and caught the full four-part Planet of Evil.

Started a new-to-me drama The Queens of Mystery. Thoroughly enjoyed the first episode and look forward to finishing up the second part.

Watched several more episodes of Silent Witness. I'm almost through with the third episode of season seven.

Also caught a full slate of Ovation mysteries throughout Thursday and Friday. Also watched quite a few Classic Perry Mason and The Saint episodes. I've been seeking out comfort television lately.

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

Here's the mini-blurb:

Lindsay Redd has a big problem with one of her pilots, but when the younger woman goes down in flames, Lindsay can't let go of her grief. Doyle Ingersoll has to find a way to push Lindsay back into top-gun form, and isn't above using sex to make it happen.

And a sneak peek…

After an interesting couple of weeks, Doyle stopped by the rec room where Lindsay sat going over a report. Lindsay and Kendra working in tandem had everyone talking. But … the takedown of the enemy ship only warranted a brief truce between the women.

He snorted. "And watching the dance between Kendra and Lindsay provides some lively entertainment." Not necessarily the good kind. Observations flew about both women still circling around but now it had become about who could push whose buttons and get their bitch on first. Doyle wanted to possibly end the merry-go-round.

Doyle propped a shoulder against the bulkhead. "You know, Linds. It might be time to give Kendra props."

Lindsay's face twisted in a grimace and she shrugged.

He nudged back. "Especially if you want a promotion someday. Even if it's just a small nudge."

She met his gaze. "Is that what you're doing now? With me?" Her eyebrow ticked up a notch.

He narrowed his eyes. "Hm. Maybe. Hadn't thought of it like that." And he should—because he and Lindsay didn't have a standard superior-to-subordinate relationship.

They had a … messy kind of attraction that could be so much more. Several things got in the way. He outranked her, which meant if they pursued anything, they'd fall into the don't-ask-don't-tell category. The possibility of getting burned kept him cautious.

He shoved away from his spot. "It different for us." Definitely for him.

Yeah, he and Lindsay had something of an adversarial back and forth, but the male-female dynamic changed it. Maybe it shouldn't, but it did. If he butted heads with another guy, he didn't doubt the situation would be similar to Lindsay and Kendra.

He waited until Lindsay glanced up and met his gaze again. "Mainly because I've known you forever and care about you on a deep level."

Her eyes flared, acknowledging he couldn't say more.

He finished his thought. "You and Kendra don't have that kind of subtext, so it's harder in many ways, but also easier because you don't have quite as much baggage. But keep going the way you two are and you will." He waited a beat. "Which means a promotion will be harder to get." He turned toward the exit. "Something to think about."

She lifted her chin and gave a noncommittal answer. "Yeah, okay."

He exited the room, his work done for now. Lindsay would do the right thing … eventually.

I'm excited to finish this one up. I like where Lindsay and Doyle are headed.

 

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Internal Dialog

Well, back to illness again. Middle kiddo is experiencing something more than the stomach flu. Not sure what it is yet, but it’s not pleasant. Hope to have some answers by mid-week. It’s not fun watching them go through the rough ride.

Not a bad week for television but had some distractions with the above-mentioned illness. I watched the rest of Silent Witness’s sixth season and should be starting season seven this week.

Also caught another episode of Blue Heelers. I’m still enjoying this show a lot. And, wow, there are a bunch of seasons on this one.

Caught my usual mystery fare on Ovation again. Hoping to find a Bond movie marathon over the Thanksgiving weekend to watch.

That’s pretty much it for television this week. Tonight’s post is from Internal Dialog, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here’s the mini-blurb:

Tom Callahan is an excellent soldier who never makes strategic errors on the job, but tends to mess up on the personal front. Abbey Parks is a firecracker who gets things done and rarely takes time to ponder a decision before she leaps. But when she crosses a line she didn't know existed, she and Tom have to navigate their way back to each other, which isn't easy considering they never approach a situation the same way.

And a sneaky peek…

Abbey needed to get a grip. Lashing out at Tom didn't solve a damn thing.

Of course he didn't know what she'd gone through or what it had been like out there. She hadn't told anyone. Didn't know if she could.

"Especially not Tom."

How could she explain any of it? The ugliness of a ravaged planet or finding that small group of hopeful rebels who wouldn't give it up. She didn't know if she could lay it out in a way he'd understand.

Not after the blow up they'd had before she left. Hell, part of the reason she'd gone had been to get away from him and his out-of-the-blue anger.

She had no idea a one-night stand would set Tom off. Their friendship ran deep and a potential outcome of something more existed, even if they'd never pursued a physical relationship.

She rolled her eyes. "And Francois Garnier never had a chance of becoming anything other than a hookup." Maybe she hadn't explicitly explained she never stuck around after sex, but most guys normally got the picture.

Heaving a sigh, she balled her hand into a fist. "Just my luck Francois doesn't play by standard rules." And he would decide to get prickly about it when he figured it out.

Throw in Tom witnessing the bizarre scene Garnier caused and boom! Instant awkward mess. With a side of snide anger thrown in.

Scene didn't accurately describe the weird byplay and non-discussion before the big revelation. Francois never directly mentioned their lone encounter. Instead, he went all twitchy when she strolled by then used platitudes and well-aimed barbs about wishing people had more consideration for others. He asked everyone at the table if it shouldn't be a good idea for a one night stand to be decided upon by both parties … prior to clothes actually coming off.

Tom picked up on it, homed in on the thinly veiled allusive verbiage and Abbey caught the moment he realized Francois spoke about her. It didn't help she couldn't look Garnier—or Tom—in the eye. One man knew her better than almost anyone and the other knew a secret she desperately wanted to keep.

The brutal, cold look Tom gave her hit harder than a boot to the teeth.

He snorted. "Oh, nice." Rising from the table, his voice went lethally quiet. "You never change, do you, Abs?"

She opened her mouth to counter, but he walked away without a backward glance. His reaction, the anger and accusation, the rigidly set shoulders, kicked her need to keep Francois from blabbing his knowledge into overdrive. To keep him from revealing whose name she gasped out during their encounter.

Garnier sent her a very satisfied look. The little shit had done it on purpose. She had no doubt.

Shaking her head, she snarled. "Grow the fuck up and stop acting like the wounded party." She leaned down and hissed close to Garnier's ear. "And, guess what? You blew your chance for revenge. He'd never believe you now." Straightening, she crossed her arms over her chest.

Oh, she got him with that one. Written all over his face, the realization Francois hadn't thought far enough ahead with his little reveal. He'd clearly planned to spill the rest … but it backfired.

Her secret safe for now, she strolled out of the rec room, leaving Garnier to stew in his own stupidity. Once outside, she heaved a relief-filled sigh. Tom Callahan did not need to know she'd called out his name in the throes of orgasm. He'd latch on to the information and try to make more of it than he should.

They didn't have that kind of thing between them. And, okay, they could, but neither had ever acted on the tension stretching and flexing between them. The vibe connected them, but never quite led to a hookup.

Abbey feared if they lit the spark it would blow up in their face. "As if I have to worry about that now." Not after the rec room incident.

Something broke between them that day. And they never quite got back to the smooth groove they had before. She'd catch Tom gazing in her direction, trying to figure it all out. She wished him luck.

She couldn't even try.

This story went a little darker than I thought it would but it’s got a lot of hope threading through the plot. Abbey and Tom like to jump hurdles, that’s all I can say.

 

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Inside Out

How did we get to the halfway mark of November already? See, the month is flying by again. At least I didn't have any illness or medical drama this week. LOL

I caught some television but not much. Watched several more episodes of Silent Witness. I'm happy to have the opportunity to see how Leo and Harry were introduced. I originally started watching the show sometime around season nine, I think.

I also spent a fair amount of time catching up on laundry and watched a few episodes of Blue Heelers. The new guy is finally starting to grow on me.

I also caught my usual mystery shows on Ovation and did a brief dive into classic Perry Mason. I've been in the mood for mysteries lately.

That's pretty much it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Inside Out, a sexy short that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Jamie Storm and Shane Castigli are separated by circumstance and each makes an attempt to move on with others. But Shane's got an inside out feeling, something of an intuition about Jaime returning, which doesn't go over well with his current partner.

And a sneaky peek…

Jaime growled when she picked up her bags. "Dammit, Chad." She backed out of the space she'd called home for three years.

Angry at being on the defensive, she'd hoped to play the departure much more low-key. Now she'd have to slink away and probably face Shane's hostility too. But she didn't blame Chad for getting a few licks in.

Making her way to the commons area, she stopped in front of Chad. "I wish I could have given you more." She glanced at the crew. "May your cargoes be plenty and the meteor showers few." She didn't give anyone a chance to do more than wave farewell.

No need to create tension between Chad and his crew.

She made her way down the corridor to the soft-seal docking point and walked onto Shane's ship, setting her bags in the mini cargo slot. Shane disengaged the seal and she stood beside him, opening her mouth to thank him.

Shane shot her a glance. "Can you handle copilot duties?"

She blinked, not expecting the courtesy. "Uh, sure." Sliding over onto the chair, she brought the console in front of her. "Richter, check. Aurora undocking sequence on my mark. Mark."

Shane's ship pulled away from Chad's and she took control, guiding it forward before turning to port.

Once they were the required distance from the Ballymead, she angled her head toward Shane. "Do you want to take the con or engage autopilot?"

Shane gave her a long, level look. "Autopilot. Coordinates are set." He got up and started for the cockpit hatch. "We need to set some ground rules." He exited, leaving the hatch open.

Jaime hovered between irritation and admiration. His blatant assumption she'd follow pissed her off. But … they did need to have a conversation. How could she argue? She respected his desire to get something hashed out sooner instead of later.

Double-checking the coordinates, she keyed in the sequence to set the autopilot, a little amazed she remembered the protocol since she'd been a mech-tech for Chad. She got up to find Shane and another thought hit. He left without verifying she hadn't forgotten.

A small glimmer of satisfaction sliced through the churning ball of dread in her gut. He had faith in her rusty piloting skill. Maybe facing the past wouldn't suck.

Much.

This is a fun story. I love writing couples who have to find their way back to each other.

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Ignition Failure

Yikes. What a week. We have a new president, which I'm rather thankful for. I hope things slowly get back to at least an even keel. I spent two evenings in two different emergency departments and got to play Dr. Mom with my daughter after she took a spill while riding her rip-stick. Also got some health screening done. It's been a little crazy for the first week of a month.

Didn't get much television watched. I viewed my usual fare on Ovation and caught a few more episodes of Silent Witness. Also ended up catching a few episode of Death in Paradise, which I enjoyed.

Had a great conversation with my brother about shows we've both watched. We're fans of Australian dramas and recommend anything new we've come across to each other.

That's pretty much it for television this week. I might be back on a semi-regular schedule soon.

Tonight's post is from Ignition Failure, a sexy short that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Favin Hart finally gets the man of her dreams but freaks out and ends up marrying another guy. Less than twenty-four hours later, she's facing the music and trying to fix her mess.

And a sneaky peek…

Favin drummed her fingers on the table until Howie put a glass in front of her then turned to speak to one of the other patrons. "Damn, I shouldn't be so antsy." Nothing said she and Parrish would even meet up.

Howie settled down across from her and shot her a confused look. "Why are you fidgeting so much?" He took a long drink from his beverage, some blue concoction that looked disgusting.

Favin feigned innocence. "I'm not fidgeting." She almost sat on her hands to prove it.

Howie snorted. "Favin, if you get any more jumpy, I'm gonna have to peel you off the ceiling." He kicked his feet out nudging the toe of her boot.

She opened her mouth to reply but her sixth sense kicked in. Parrish. She went still when she caught sight of him.

Howie followed her gaze. "Ah. Never mind. The reason just presented itself." He leaned in. "Give me the bullet points before he gets here."

Favin gave him the brief rundown. "We had a thing, he deployed, end of thing kind of deal. It was nice for a few weeks." Better than nice and that scared her more than a little.

Howie lifted his chin. "I'll stick around for a few drinks then make myself scarce."

Favin slapped her hand on the table and pitched her voice low. "Don't you dare. I'll hunt you down and find the nearest airlock if you do." She wanted Parrish enough that being alone with him wouldn't be a good idea.

Howie's eyes went wide. "Whoa. The feelings run deep for this one." He folded his arms over his chest and smirked. "He's a good guy, Fav."

Favin snarled. "Shut. Up." She didn't Howie to sing Parrish's praises.

Parrish arrived at their table and she met his gaze then smiled. "Parrish, you remember Howie."

Howie stuck his hand out. "Hey, man. How've you been?"

Parrish clasped his palm and they exchanged some idle conversation about not seeing each other since their initial training while Howie dragged a chair over. Favin took the opportunity to drink in the sight of Parrish in civilian garb. Okay, semi-civilian. He wore a battered pair of fatigues and a T-shirt that fit snugly across his chest but still looked soft and comfy.

Howie snapped his fingers in front of her. "Yo, Fav. You ready for another round?" His lips twitched.

She sent him a narrow-eyed glare. "Sure." Sticking her hand in her pocket, she fished around for some cash.

Howie shook his head. "No need. This round's on Parrish." He got up to make his second trip to the bar.

Damned man.

Parrish nudged her shoulder. "I see what you mean about the sibling vibe." He chuckled.

Favin relaxed. "Yeah, Howie's a huge pain in the ass sometimes." She took another swallow of her current drink. "But he's a great drinking partner." Unless he bails on me.

Parrish gave her a grin. "From what I remember, so are you." He picked up her glass and took a big gulp.

She laughed. "True. I never mind sharing my alcohol." He'd done the same thing the night they met.

A good memory that finally melted her anxiety away.

 

I like this one. Favin trying to avoid getting sucked into Parrish's orbit won't go the way she hopes.

 

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Hot Rocks

Well, November is here. Gotta say, I hope it doesn't pass as slowly as September but not as fast as October. I'll look forward to a month that actually feels like a month again. Who knows when that'll happen?

Busy week with work projects. I didn't get a lot of new television watched. I mainly caught a few of the holiday movies on Hallmark and Lifetime and watched a lot of Ovation.

I did catch an episode of Blue Heelers. Also started a new one. The new guy in season two is still kind of annoying me. Here's hoping he settles down soon.

I also watched several episodes of Silent Witness. Finished up season five and started on six.

I also got to do early voting. My daughter and I went on Thursday and, thankfully, didn't have a long wait. One of the benefits to living in a rural area. I'll be happy when the election is over. It's been an exhausting ride this year.

Tonight's post is from Hot Rocks, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Ava and Walt are taken by the enemy and subjected to torture. They won't find a better time to examine their long and storied past, right?

And a preview snippet…

Ada scrambled to think of a way out of the clusterfuck she and Walt had walked into. Right smack in the hands of the worst of the worst possible captors. Woggins had a hard-on for Ava—she'd slipped through his fingers once before.

Ada stalled for time. "War's over, Woggins. There's no business, unfinished or otherwise, between us."

Walt snorted behind her and muttered, "Damn straight."

Woggins walked around in a circle and stopped in front of Ava. "Still, it's my lucky day. A two-for-one special. I can't believe you two fell for the same trap."

Ada gave a rude grunt. "Because you don't grasp the concept of loyalty. When one of our own calls, we show up." She kind of cursed the concept now because Woggins had taken the well-known tactic and twisted it to his own ends.

Woggins poked back. "Ah, yes. That beautiful united forces mantra." He moved around again, pausing in front of Walt. "Tell me, do you think that's what won the war?"

Ada could tell him it didn't hurt, but the war obviously hadn't ended for Vince and Ava didn't doubt they'd discover how much it hadn't in short time.

She jumped in to answer. "I think good people who refused to stay down won the war—despite your best efforts to strangle the entire galaxy."

Woggin's smirked. "Perhaps. But your side wasn't quite ready for victory now, was it?" He slowly ambled back and forth. "In fact, you're struggling to keep the shipping lines open, what with all the pirating going on out there."

Her gut leveled with certainty. Woggins definitely wanted something from them. The fact they were old enemies only sweetened the deal.

Woggins moved to stand in front of Ava again. "A shipment of high-end supplies went missing and I want to know where it went." He folded his arms over his chest. "Since Hot Rock company always seemed jacked-in to central command, I figured you red dogs would have a good idea where I should look."

Ava laughed. "Right. As if." She shook her head. "We're not going to give up that information, even if we had it." Which they did.

The shipment contained more than high-end supplies. It also held confiscated medical equipment the AP commandeered during the war. Hospitals needed that stuff if they ever hoped to reopen.

Woggins's lip kicked up in another smirk. "Then one of you will die..." He trailed a finger along Ava's collarbone. "Which one will it be?"

Walt finally spoke. "You'll kill both of us, so what difference does it make?"

Ava rolled her eyes. "Come on, Walt. The real question is who wants to die first?"

Walt shrugged. "Well, in that case, I volunteer."

Woggins arched an eyebrow. "Chivalry? Giving the female longer to live? Maybe escape?" He made a grimace of distaste.

Of course, the concept wouldn't register in his brain.

Walt snorted. "Not chivalry, asshole. More like I'd rather die a quick and painful death than listen to you drone on about, well … anything."

Woggins backhanded Walt and his head snapped to the side.

The entire frame rocked and jostled Ava, who grabbed onto Walt's legs. Woggins didn't like being insulted. He never had. And it proved to be one of his weaknesses.

Vince spit at Walt's feet. "Fuck you. No one said you'd die quick." He motioned for Boggs to place a large, hot rock at the base of the rack. The metal heated quickly, searing the exposed skin against it. Ava bit her tongue to keep from hissing in pain. A different goon entered the alcove and pulled Woggins out with Boggs following hot on his heels.

Once the room cleared, Ava snarled, "Are you bug-ass stupid? Pissing him off like that."

I'm actually enjoying this one. It's a bit of a departure from what I normally do, but it's also a challenge in the best way.

 

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

 

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Holly's Masquerade

Well, we're almost to the end of another month and I'm trying to contemplate what the final two months of 2020 is going to be like. Frankly, I can't do it. LOL And we still have a full moon to get through in October.

Had a slower than normal week for television. I'm honestly not in the mood to watch much and have been catching marathons on regular cable for the most part. Hallmark started their holiday fare and one of the books I copy edited is featured as a new movie this year. Last year, another book I copy edited had a premiere. That's always so exciting!

I did catch an episode or two of Silent Witness, but other than that, I mainly watch Ovation. I'm crossing my fingers they don't have a major programming change anytime soon. That happens so frequently for me. I fall in love with the line-up and all of a sudden, some new honcho comes in and effs it all up. I'm looking at you HGTV, SyFy, and BBC America. Or, I lose access to a channel that usually has classic stuff I really enjoy. Sigh.

Tonight's post is from Holly's Masquerade, a Specter Station novella. It's also a loosely themed holiday story.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Roman Holly can't believe how smoothly the transition to his new base of operations on Specter Station is going, but he has Isis Tango, his uber-efficient admin, to thank. She moves halfway across the galaxy to stay by his side and he's not quite sure why. But Isis will reveal her reason at the holiday masquerade and it will blow Roman's mind.

And a sneaky peek…

Roman Holly surveyed the exterior of the place he'd be making his new base of operations—Specter Station. "Soon to be home sweet home." His private transport made a banking sweep and smoothly docked inside the landing bay in one of the spots reserved for Holly Galactic Group.

His new partner, but one of his oldest friends, Maddox Specter assigned seven bays for Roman's fleet of spacecraft.

"Maddox always goes overboard." Roman would maybe use two, three at most. "Unless I figure out a way to be in different places at the same time, I can only be on one ship in any given moment." He snagged his bag and disembarked to zero fanfare. "Huh, not what I expected." Pausing at the end of the ramp, he looked around for his ever-efficient admin, Isis.

Maddox skidded around the corner and stumbled to a halt. "Roman, you're a little early." His breath rasped out and he made an effort to straighten his tie.

Roman laughed. "And you were obviously otherwise occupied." He looked past Maddox's shoulder to see Juna Newberry—the station's head of security and Maddox's newly minted significant other—breezing down the causeway in the opposite direction.

Maddox smirked. "I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation." He chuckled and thrust out his palm. "Welcome to your new home, Ro. I'm so glad you're here."

Roman clasped Maddox's palm and pulled him into a side-arm hug. "Me, too. We should've done this years ago." His gaze went to the corridor that led to the main hub of the station.

Still no admin. Why isn't she here? Isis Tango made punctuality a fine art. Not like her to miss his arrival. Maddox led the way toward the main hub and kept up a running commentary. Roman listened with half an ear, concern over Isis making him distracted.

Maybe the move got to her and she hates it here. A stab of guilt hit him. He'd basically assumed she'd be okay moving across the galaxy to keep working for him.

"Maybe I should've asked her first?"

Maddox paused outside the lift leading to the office suites. "Ask who what first?" His eyebrow arched.

Roman shook his head. "Eh, nothing. A little worried Isis isn't with you." Then again, considering what Maddox had been up to, might be better—

Maddox smacked a hand on his forehead. "Aw, damn, totally my fault. I was supposed to stop by and let her know before I came down." A sheepish look crossed his face.

Roman lifted his chin. "Don't blame you for getting off track. If I had someone like Juna nearby, I'd probably never get any work done."

Maddox snorted. "Are you kidding? Isis puts Wanda to shame and Wanda isn't human."

Maddox used an advanced AI computer to keep him on target, his schedule organized, and pretty much run his life on the station.

The doors opened and they entered the lift.

Roman grinned. "Isis does have superb skill. And she's much nicer to look at than Wanda." Not that the life-like droid could be called unattractive.

Maddox nodded. "True. And, no doubt, Isis is buried in all the details for the Holly Masquerade you're throwing to launch the holiday season and celebrate your new venture with yours truly." Maddox keyed in the code for Roman's new office suite.

Roman inclined his chin. "You're probably right. She does get lost in making certain everything is crossed, dotted, and signed for." His stomach rumbled and he crossed to the panel beside the door. "Think I'll order in some dinner and surprise Isis." He glanced up. "Want to join us?"

Maddox smirked. "Thanks, but no. I'll be otherwise occupied with my head of security." A wide grin spread across his face.

Roman snorted and entered in an order to be delivered to his office. At the same time, he tamped down a niggle of concern over the move and how it affected his admin.

If all goes well, I'll be able to release this series next year. Yay!

 

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

ML Skye

Sunday Snippet: Hedging Bets

Wow, how can half the month be over already? Time either seems to fly by at the rate of insanity yet it often feels like it an entire decade exists within a twenty-four hour period. It's trippy.

Had a bunch of projects land in my inbox this week so television ended up being on the short end. I finished up a Blue Heelers episode and have another one ready to go.

Also made it through two-thirds of Silent Witness's fifth season. Two interesting cases. Looking forward to finishing up the last two episodes.

I watched a lot of the morning mysteries on Ovation again. I enjoy having those shows on in the background, especially when I’m shredding a ton of old paper files.

Looking forward to hopefully finishing up Picard and catching up on Riverdale and Roswell, New Mexico. As I mentioned, this is probably my last season of Riverdale. I literally can't stomach Hiram and I’m pretty sure he won't be going anywhere when the new season premieres.

That's the short list for television this week. Tonight's post is from Hedging Bets, a novella that got a start with a writing community prompt.

Here's the mini-blurb:

Lettie and Thane have issues that are getting in the way of their work and are thrown into separate cells for being insubordinate to a superior officer. Their commander decides they can stay locked up—in the same cell—until they work their crap out or one of them calls for a body bag.

And a sneaky peek…

Thane kept his distance behind Lettie when the security team came to escort them to the brig. "Stupid to get sucked into another argument with her." The guy beside him gave a rude snort.

Thane ignored him. He didn't care what the marine thought. The guy probably figured Thane would spend all of five minutes in the brig before his dad got him out.

"Damn, I hope the old man doesn't step in this time." He kept his voice pitched low so no else heard.

Thane could fight his battles alone. After all, Thad Sorenson made sure to teach his son how … then promptly removed any and all barriers from his path. Shaking his head, Thane frowned. Thanks, Dad.

He didn't ask to be posted to his dad's ship. When the call came through, Thane actually requested a different assignment. No such luck. Random draw, right set of skills, report for duty.

Thane rolled his eyes. "Random draw, my ass." But he'd reported as ordered.

And ran right into Lettie Lang's bad attitude. Argh!

They made the turn down the corridor leading to the brig and Thane's anger kicked up another notch. Lettie waved to the lance corporal behind the desk. Of course she's friends with him.

Thane snorted. "She's in here often enough." He glanced up to find Lettie giving him a pointed look.

Shit. He shrugged and said nothing else while the lance corporal logged Lettie in. She slid her gaze forward again then a wide smirk curved her lips.

Stepping back, she made a show of looking around the empty containment area. "Corporal Gaff, is my favorite cell available?"

He glanced up. "Uh, which one's your favorite?"

Lettie gave him a sweet smile. "Whichever one is the farthest away from Sorenson."

Gaff rolled his eyes then came around to undog the hatch and lead Lettie through. He put her in the first cell then returned to the desk.

He sighed then motioned Thane forward. "All right, Sorenson, you're up." He started typing then paused. "Huh, this is your first visit here." He met Thane's gaze. "Might wanna take a seat. Processing you will take a few."

Thane bit back a growl and took the proffered seat. Gaff pecked around on the keyboard and started entering information. Thane settled back and crossed his arms over his chest then risked a quick look at Lettie. She paced back and forth in the cell, her mouth going nonstop.

Probably a good thing I can't hear what she's saying.

I love writing this couple. The whole enemies because, otherwise, they'd jump each other trope is fun!

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

ML Skye