A
woman who lost everything.
Intergalactic storm racing champion Elaina
Carteret had it all – fame, wealth, men – until a horrific accident took it
away. To get it back, she agrees to pose as Lainie Carter, medical transport
pilot and corporate spy. Her risk-taking attitude infuriates Dr. Erik Johansen,
who runs the outpost with an iron hand, a permanent scowl and the tightest bod
on the planet.
A
man desperate for redemption.
Unable to forgive himself for a past
tragedy, Erik works himself into an early grave. He has no patience for the
insubordinate Lainie Carter, who can’t take an order, disrupts routine and
flames his body to ash.
A
planet at risk.
When the outpost is attached, they’re
thrown together in a race across the desert to stop a deadly biogenetic weapon
As a fragile trust blossoms between two damaged hearts, their pasts resurface
and threaten their growing bond.
Be warned:
anal sex, bondage, menage sex, gender neutral characters.
Buy it now!
And read on for an excerpt!
Excerpt
Elaina
and Fintarl transferred the meds from the craft to the supply hut. This was her
last stop today. Her routes varied daily her first month on the job. Someone
was either trying to ramp up her knowledge of the terrain and facilities
quickly, or prevent her from finding out too much. The collections of mysteries
and snippets of information she’d gathered made her head hurt. All she wanted
was a bath to wash away the stink of too much desert driving and a nap to give
her mind a few minutes to turn off. Fintarl’s toothy scowl warned her that wasn’t
on the agenda.
“Boss
man. Want.”
She
raised an eyebrow at the Ranharran and took a deep breath before heading to
Erik’s office. He kept their exchanges to a minimum during her regular
drop-offs at this facility. She was getting under his skin, she knew it. A meeting
had to mean she pissed him off somehow. Good. It gave her another opportunity
to ramp up the heat. Anger was close enough to lust to wedge open a door.
Shoulders
pulled back, head high, she barged into his office. She’d always been good at
bravado and she liked to keep him off balance. “Hey farm boy, you wanted me?”
She flashed him a flippant smile to push the double entendre right into his
face, and all she got was a grimace in return.
I’m only getting started,
Dr. Johansen.
Settled
on the mud blocks that passed for seats, she arced her back to offer up breasts
wrapped to perfection in a tight white tank. The perspiration worked in her
favor. It molded the top around her so she was as good as naked, maybe better.
Her bare legs, firmed by countless hours in the gym, crossed in front to put
all that toned flesh on center stage.
Take a good long look, boss man.
Days
of beard growth and a rumpled shirt signaled erratic hours and insufficient
sleep. It seemed to have gotten worse since the last time she’d seen him. Was
it only days ago? The world of secrets and hurt he dragged around on his
shoulders was devouring him from the inside out. Why he avoided her when he
could benefit from the physical release she offered confused her. He didn’t
even have to like her to screw her. Still, he stayed away.
Erik
pushed his too-long hair off his face with one hand and a package across his
desk toward her with the other. The flicker of lust that darkened his eyes when
she ran her hand from breast to thigh, he quickly buried. Droplets of sweat
glistened along the carved muscle of his forearms. A tattoo—a yellow sphere
sitting on a black line encased in a blue circle—peaked out from his
shirtsleeve. Like Saskia. How odd.
“One
of my better ideas, yes?”
“Ms.
Carter.” Stiff formality. “On the job for a month and you’re already messing
with the medical packaging? Until you show me a pharmacology degree, don’t do
it again.”
“Seriously,
Erik? It’s the Ranharran equivalent of string and paper. No harm done to the
medicine, and I can increase the load by thirty percent. The more I move the
better for everyone.”
“You’re
missing the point.” He enunciated each word like it hurt to say. “The meds are
volatile. Any shift, no matter how small… Damn it, Lainie, do you have any idea
how dangerous this stuff is? You could get someone killed.”
“I’m
trying to save lives.” Her eyes closed, she swallowed hard, trying to keep her
frustration from spilling out. A raised voice wouldn’t get her very far. She
already tried that. “I don’t get you, Erik. This compound is thirty miles from
the Karas border. Your medical supply closet’s always running on empty, the
transportation infrastructure on this planet is deteriorating and rumors that
the Den Vedran Corporations are arming the Ranharran mercenaries are
escalating. With unpredictable storms that can close transit corridors at any
time, I’d think you’d welcome ways to move more medicine.”
His
faced blanched at one point through her tirade, but was now back to its normal
grim. “Not. The. Point. I won’t have my orders questioned by anyone. Without
some discipline, I can’t ensure the safety of everyone under my protection. I’ll
make it easy. Don’t tamper with my meds, or I’ll get a different pilot.” His
lips thinned so tight they trembled. She wanted to kiss them calm after she
beat him with a stick.
“You
don’t want to get rid of me. Whose face would you use for target practice?” Her
voice lowered, forcing him to lean closer. “And whose body would you think
about when you jack off in those late hours when you’re crawling for relief?”
She was guessing, but the way he struggled to suppress those flashes of longing
when she got close to him convinced her she was on the mark.
“You’re
trying to annoy me. Okay, it worked. No tampering, no arguments. Meeting over.”
He ran his hands through his hair and pulled at the roots. His eyes looked
haunted and decades older than his thirty-six years.
This
was not about packaging or her rule-breaking proclivities. Whatever he kept
sealed down tight was driving him to an early grave. Without thinking, she
leaned over the desk and traced a finger along a blond eyebrow. He recoiled
like he always did when she touched him.
“Yes,
I do it to piss you off. You’re wound up so tight, farm boy, you’re going to
snap.” Her finger slid down his cheek to his chin. “Let me in, Erik. I could
help you reduce all that tension, but you stay so far away. So I poke.”
She
pressed her breast against his arm to make her offer clear. “No commitment
required. Just two people trying to get through the long, lonely nights.”
He
pulled back. “I said we’re done here.”
She
swallowed her anger and flipped him a bow. “Your highness. I’ll visit Sen and
Qirta before I head back to Mendasa.”
“No
miskberries.”
Sen’s
favorite treat were hidden in a secret pocket in her bag. What Erik didn’t know
wouldn’t hurt him.
Hello, I'm Shari.
By day, I crawl out of bed, mainline coffee, walk the dog, get my kid off to
school, hop on the metro, and save cities within the four walls of my office.
Usually by email.
At night, the
other Shari emerges. I take off the suit, curl up on the couch and let my
imagination play, with words and images until stories take shape (while
periodically checking on my teen-ager, hiding out in the bedroom and plotting
world domination). As my alter ego, I save cities in a cape and spangled
tights, wander space and time on a surfboard, fly over the Himalayas on
feathered wings, make six-toed footprints in indigo talc snow on the sixth
planet in the Andromeda galaxy or eavesdrop on Olympian gods while pretending
to whip up a bowl of ambrosia.
In all these
wondrous worlds, romance and passion blossom. I can't resist a happy ending.
And I am particularly prone to writing happy endings for those who have given
up on ever getting one. That gives me immense satisfaction.
Join me on my
journey. The best ideas emerge
from team work.
Find Shari
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/Shari-Elder-Stories
Twitter: @ShariElderBooks
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