Some of my sci-fi romances take place on a single planet. Many of them on Earth, such as Hey, Santa and Alien Kisses at Midnight. Other times, I’ll have my characters exist in an alternative Earth, like It Took a Zombie Apocalypse. But, sometimes I decide to have my characters visit several planets, the differences between their destinations helping to bring conflict into the story. As a reader, I love visiting new destinations in the books I read, and I try to make it just as fun for my readers.
These are the main planets mentioned in Beyond Reach, most of them visited at some point during the story.
– where the story begins
– not an actual planet, but the moon of Ubetron
– the inhabitants, originally from Ubetron, live in homes built into the ground
– cold climate
– where the hero is from
– a planet in the Petrogeous galaxy
– natives are humanoid with blue skin, their hair ranging from gold to dark brown
– known as the pleasure planet
– home of ipsum, a naturally-grown drug that helps people to relax and reduces their inhibitions
– also home of the Suavitas, those who practice the art of sensual massage
– natives have golden brown skin
– population numbers vary, as over half the people on the planet at any time are tourists
– where the heroine is from
– a planet containing only a prison colony
– often used as a threat to misbehaving children
– the planet we live on, but in the future when governments are trying to make trade deals with other planets rather than other countries.
Tell me: If you had the chance, what planet would you like to visit? (Can be one from fictional books/movies or real.)
LOVE IN A NEW WORLD
New Adult Romance on Earth and Beyond Release date: July 31, 2017 Genres: New Adult Romance, Anthology
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-988428-07-9
Print ISBN: 978-1-988428-06-2
Cover artist: Fantasia Frog Designs
An alien prince, a farm girl, two university students from a small town, and more are all ready to begin their lives as adults. They have everything planned out. But when drastic events crush their dreams, they must carve a new path. And they just might find unexpected love along the way.
Includes the New Adult Romances Beyond Reach, Accidental Romance, It Took a Zombie Apocalypse, Hey Santa, and bonus story Alien Kisses at Midnight.
Walking into the silky rear-end of an uidiss, she came to an abrupt halt. The creature had been walking at a steady pace and then stopped. She’d failed to notice in time. Wiping fluff off her face, she turned around and walked into another hard body. “I’m so sorry.”
Hands clamped down on her arms. “Are you all right?”
She stared up into deep brown eyes. Chewing her bottom lip, she nodded. If this man hadn’t been holding on to her, she would have fallen to the ground. The word swoon held no meaning for her until now.
Am I only like this because of the ipsum I inhaled back home? Or was there something more she found heart-racing about the blue-skinned, well-muscled hunk of an Ubetron who held her up?
No, she couldn’t feel anything for him. Their races had been sworn enemies for years. Everyone across the galaxy knew that. Yet here she was, standing face to face, gazing intently at him, with no will to move.
He smiled at her, drawing her attention from his eyes to his lips. How would they taste? She’d never kissed anyone intimately before.
“You look familiar. What’s your name?”
Name? Gods, what was her name? “Ni…Nixie.” Had she told him, or only thought the word?
He released her arms to brush his fingers along her jaw line. How she remained standing, she had no idea.
“Nixie. A beautiful name belonging to a beautiful woman. Have we met before?”
Moisture pooled between her thighs. Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you, but no.” She’d definitely remember meeting him.
As he trailed a hand down her arm, she sighed. Her entire body tingled from his gentle touch.
“Okay, weird. You must remind me of someone else. Now tell me, why were you in such a rush that you walked into the rear end of that slow-moving beast? We’re supposed to be on vacation, enjoying all this planet has to offer.”
Laughing at his description of the uidiss, she leaned against his arm. Never before had she enjoyed a man’s attention like this. “I’m not visiting. I live here. Have my whole life.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? So, what was it like growing up on the pleasure planet?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jessica E. Subject is the author of science fiction romance, mostly alien romances, ranging from sweet to super hot. Sometimes she dabbles in paranormal and contemporary as well, bringing to life a wide variety of characters. In her stories, you can not only meet a sexy alien or two, but also clones and androids. You may be transported to a dystopian world where rebels are fighting to live and love, or to another planet for a romantic rendezvous.
When Jessica is not reading, writing, or doing dreaded housework, she likes to go to fitness class and walk her Great Pyrenees/Retriever her family adopted from the local animal shelter.
Jessica lives in Ontario, Canada with her husband and two energetic children. And she loves to hear from her readers. You can find her at jessicasubject.com.
Ready for another Night Fall tale? Love werewolves? Well, maybe you’ll want to give Long Howl Good Night a try! It’s set in the Night Fall world, but outside my vamp/were timeline, so it works well as a standalone. You honestly don’t have to read any other story in the series to enjoy this. It’s set back on Dark Mountain in North Carolina, a place I visited in Night Fall on Dark Mountain. Fertile were-lassies are rare and highly prized. Therein lies my heroine’s dilemma. She doesn’t want to be wanted for her ovaries alone. Admittedly, the story is a sex-fest. But with handsome, droolworthy were-males, that’s okay, right? 🙂 Enjoy!
Long Howl Good Night
Werewolf Aila Mack is ready to get her groove on during a full moon. Because she prefers to keep her liaisons strictly about the sex, she’s a part-time were-hooker. She’s had a taste of were-domination, but now prefers to be in charge of her own destiny.
Brothers Kynan and Jack Parker are on a mission. When their Dark Mountain clan finds an agency dealing in female werewolves, they aren’t happy learning that women are selling their bodies to satisfy their monthly howl. However, they have to take action once they discover there’s a fertile female in the agency’s stable. Their species is in dire need of breedable females.
Kynan and Jack are given the job of bringing home their mate, but they quickly discover there’s more going on beneath the surface than simply a stubborn female who refuses to be collared. Aila’s tempted like never before, as the brothers, one gentle and one fiercely intense, peel away the hard shell surrounding her Wolfen heart.
With a shake of her head, Aila Mack tousled her curls then gave her mouth one last swipe of lipstick. Nothing spelled “hooker” quite like cherry-red lipstick and a skirt so short a sneeze would show off the half-moons of her ass.
And that’s exactly what she was—for this weekend, anyway. As tawdry as that sounded, some things couldn’t be left to Mother Nature. Not if she wanted to maintain the life she’d fought so hard to live. Sure, working as an executive assistant to bank manager wasn’t what she’d dreamed of when she was younger, but the job paid her bills, and living hidden among humans kept her free.
She stepped out of her car, tugged down the hem of her black skirt, and vamped to the door of the mountain cabin where she’d been directed by the agency.
Light glared around the edges of the curtains; smoke billowed from the chimney. The remoteness of this particular client didn’t worry her. If things got a little rough, they could easily take the action out of doors.
After shooting one last glance around the moonlit clearing, she took a deep breath and knocked.
The heavy tread of a man’s footsteps sounded on the other side, and the door swung open. Aila glanced up…and up…locking gazes with one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen—not handsome in a pretty-boy way, but his angular, hard-edged features appealed like no other’s she’d ever seen.
Coal-black hair was brushed back from his forehead and fell well past his shoulders. Chilly blue eyes gleamed as his gaze slowly raked her body. A broad, muscular chest above lean hips and powerful thighs made her hopeful that, this time, she’d find her own pleasure in the mating. She was almost envious of the soft chambray shirt and wash-softened blue jeans that hugged his large frame.
He shifted to the side and silently waved her into the room.
For those who don’t know, Adriana Kraft is the pen name under which my husband and I write erotic romance, among other things. Baby boomers ourselves, we often feature characters in their 40s, 50s, and even 60s and beyond. If that’s not what trips your trigger, this book isn’t for you – but, with any luck, all of us will reach these ages eventually, and we hope our readers do so with vim, vigor, and yes, a vibrant and active sex life. We like to think some of our characters can light the way.
Zachary Cullen is just such a character. Here are some snippets about him from our heroine’s point of view:
Not for the first time, Josie wondered why the highly successful fifty-something entrepreneur invested so much time and money trying to find the next Broadway star…
Lost in her own thoughts, Josie startled at the gravelly sound of Zach’s deep voice. It was that slow, strong drawl that had appealed to her since the first time they’d met. That, and his burning eyes that seemed capable of peering into her soul…
She had to admit his broad shoulders and tapered hips triggered her own lusty imagination. Damn. She hated the fact that she had difficulty ignoring his manliness, and he never even looked at her as a woman. Apparently, he only saw her as a conduit for helping his protégés advance their careers.
A Woman for Zachary
Meghan’s Playhouse, Book Two
Four Flames: Explicit sex, MF, FF; Ménage, FFM, FMF
Erotic Romance: 26,000 words
Extasy Books: August 4, 2017
It’s New York! Broadway beckons, but Meg has more fun keeping an erotic triangle going with her current flame, Zach Cullen, and her drama coach, Josie Patrice.
Zachary Cullen has ignored Josette Patrice’s overtures for years, but she agrees to take on his latest protégé-slash-arm-candy Meghan Keenan in her off-Broadway workshop theater. Though the girl has incredible talent, Josie would stake her reputation on that little thing being a switch-hitter, like herself, and she doesn’t want Zach to be duped. Josie sets out to seduce Meg and expose her for what she is, but all bets are off when Meg turns the tables on Josie to hook her up with Zach.
Josie was shaking her head back and forth before Zach finished speaking. “That’s not enough.”
Zach closed the distance between the two of them.
She pressed her back against the wall, and he placed his palms against it, framing her head. She licked her lips.
What was he doing? She’d imagined him being this close countless times, but not in this way. Not in anger. Not struggling with his sense of fairness over sharing another woman. She kept her arms locked at her sides.
“That’s exactly what Meg said. What is enough? Do we draw lots for her?”
Josie shook her head.
“Maybe I can have her even days of the month and you odd days.”
“That might work.” Josie could hardly breathe. Zach’s male scent was overpowering. She’d agree to almost anything, if he just stayed where he was. She should be afraid of him, but she wasn’t. This was a man she’d known for a decade. He might be very angry, even deeply pained, but he wouldn’t hurt her—at least not physically.
“It works for parking cars in the winter. It’s a beginning, I guess.” His eyes darkened with a passion she couldn’t decipher. She watched his eyes shut and re-open.
And then his mouth was crushing against hers. She tried to breathe through her nostrils. His muffled groans filled her mouth. Tentatively, she lifted her hands to his shoulders. It was as if he was in a trance. She sighed and pulled him closer. Maybe she was, too.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Winner of the 2014 Bisexual Book Award for erotic fiction, author Adriana Kraft is a married couple writing Sizzling Romantic Suspense and Erotic Romance for Two, Three, or More.
One man, one woman, danger and intrigue – always a happy ending, but oh, what a ride! Readers can count on our Romantic Suspense line for “warmth, blazing hot sex, and well-developed characters” (Romance Junkies Reviews) as our hero and heroine battle outer threats and inner demons to stay alive and fall in love.
A man, a woman (or two), or another man, threesomes, foursomes, what’s your fantasy? We write our Erotic Romance stories to entertain, of course, but most of all we write them because we believe in happy endings for all who fall in love, whatever their gender, sexual orientation or numerical combination. Here you’ll find multiple partners, three-way, four-way and more, swing lifestyle, lesbian, bisexual, ménage and polyamory, in both contemporary and paranormal settings: “scorching hot…refreshing…something to read when you want straight up hotness” (Long and Short Reviews)
Together we have published more than forty romance novels and novellas to outstanding reviews. We love hearing from readers at firstname.lastname@example.org, and here is our website:
When Darcelle Lebeau throws off the invisible chains that keep her bound to her family, she discovers a new vocation. Tempted to enter the illegal playground of a man she nicknames Matou, she becomes a cat burglar in training. Deeply ensnared with each task he entices her to fulfill, she fails to discover his identity and true intentions.
Sebastian St. Croix, a wealthy businessman, has a dark side. He’s a thief, a cat burglar who steals art and historical objects. For one year, he trains Darcelle to become his assistant, remaining incognito, observing her from afar. His admiration grows along with his desire for her with every phase-one challenge she completes. Phase two will test the limits of his control. Hands-on personal training? Yes. Sex? No. With his sister’s happiness at stake, nothing, not even the tempting Darcelle Lebeau, can interfere with accomplishing the biggest break-in of his career.
DARCELLE STEELED HERSELF before entering the study. She’d been shocked to discover her own clothes laid out for her. This stranger had insinuated himself deep into her life, and she was determined to find out why.
He was seated at a large desk, hands behind his head, long legs stretched before him, and feet propped on the desktop. Arrogant man. Before her strides brought her to stand across from him, he pointed at a chair positioned at an angle to the desk. It was straight in line with his gaze, so he could study her at his ease.
“Sit there.” He returned his hands to the back of his head.
Darcelle ignored the command, stopping at the edge of the desk. “Who are you?”
A glimmer of heat flashed. “If you want your questions answered, you will sit. Do not defy me. There will be consequences.”
Unmoved by the threat, she pressed her lips in a tight line and narrowed her eyes. If it was a battle of wills he wanted, she’d be happy to oblige.
He stared pointedly at her. “Do you want answers?”
She balled her hands into fists. He had her. Without looking at him, she sat.
She shot her gaze up to him. Gods. I’d like to wipe that smirk from your face. Or kiss it away. What the hell was wrong with her? She should look out for herself not sink deeper under his thrall.
He abruptly dropped his feet to the floor and sat forward, his gaze aimed so sharply at her that she jerked back.
“There’s a price for my services. It’s time for you to pay.”
Cailin has been writing fiction for six years and non-fiction for two decades. Her non-fiction work has been published in magazines and in a non-fiction anthology. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America, the RWA Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal Chapter, and the RWA Passionate Ink Chapter.
Cailin likes to flip convention on its head, creating a universe in which each planet is a study in different what ifs. What would happen to alpha men on a matriarchal planet? How would society handle it if girls born on their new planet developed empathic senses?
She is currently writing the third book in her Sons of Tallav sci-fi erotic romance series. Shane: Marshal of Tallav and Maon: Marshal of Tallav were released in 2016 by Loose Id. Educated by the Master, a Sons of Tallav novella, will be released in October in the Cosmic Love Cabaret anthology.
I’m ready to write some more witches. Are you ready to read ’em? I had this little series started for Samhain before they closed their doors, and I never got a chance to finish it. I have the first two of five books written. So, if you haven’t already read them, you can start here—well, on September 14th, anyway! Read the opening of this story to get a flavor of my witches.
Once in a Blue Moon
In Jefferson Parish, deep in the bayou, is a place called Bonne Nuit. Off the beaten path, isolated by swamp and connected to the sea, there the Beaux Rêve Coven thrives. Five witches… Too many demons to count…
Bryn Cavanaugh and her coven like that the community they live in is isolated thanks to a storm that destroyed the bridge between them and the outside world. Now the state wants the bridge rebuilt. When the construction crew checks into the inn, Bryn begins to suspect something about the crew’s boss isn’t quite…human.
Bridges are Ethan Thorne’s thing–after all, he’s a troll—so building a simple span over a remote canal in backwater Louisiana shouldn’t be this much of a problem. When he follows the pretty little innkeeper to a midnight rendezvous, he discovers why his crew keeps running into trouble. Bryn’s a witch, and her coven is casting spells in the moonlight.
As a troll, Ethan feels the sting of his low place in demon hierarchy. But finding an unprotected coven of witches in the middle of the bayou could lead to all sorts of adventure. And it is better to keep your enemies close…
Bryn Cavanaugh stirred the contents of a large black pot, breathing in the rich aromas scenting the air.
“With your blessings, come weal and bounty,
With our efforts, come fortunes plenty.”
The spell was short and to the point. She doubted the Powers That Be felt slighted. The Beaux Rêve women worked damn hard and never took their blessings for granted.
She dipped a spoon into the broth and tasted it, closing her eyes as she sampled the spicy mix. “Delicious.”
She turned off the flame beneath the large pot of shrimp gumbo she’d begun the night before. For now, it could steep in its fragrant roux. When she returned, she’d light the burner again to let it simmer slowly until it was ready for tonight when her sisters gathered for the evening meal. Satisfied, Bryn left her large, airy kitchen and headed toward the front door of the inn.
Cooking the large stew had been time-consuming. A task that had taken her mind off the trouble that was brewing. Today, the sisters faced enemies, and she was determined to remain calm, study their adversaries and determine their weaknesses while smothering the interlopers with kindness. Her totem was the rabbit, a symbol of abundance and comfort, and her element was the Earth. She would need to channel both to remain steadfast and calm.
She paused to rifle through the stones in the bowl beside the door. Some were polished and some raw crystals. She found her two favorites—a polished amethyst carved into a worry stone with a soft indentation for her finger to rub against when she grew agitated and a piece of raw witch’s amber. One for cleansing her spirit of stress and the other for deflecting negativity. These she’d also need this morning.
She put both in the pocket of her long flowing skirt and stepped off the porch, barefoot today, because she wanted nothing between herself and the Earth. Freshly cut grass tickled her insoles. She smiled, her first in days since news had arrived that outsiders were descending on them.
Looking to her right, she caught sight of Father Guidry watering his small garden beside his tiny clapboard church. She gave him a wave, her silver and beaded bracelets jangling on her arms, but didn’t stop to discuss his plantings. No doubt he’d say this year’s success was due to prayer. Oh, and he’d be right.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d snuck into his garden every night for weeks to pray to the Goddess for her favor. The elderly priest was a kind man, and he tolerated the sisters of the Beaux Rêve coven while continuing to hold out hope they’d see the error of their strange ways.
Tolerance was a blessing, and something the folks of Bonne Nuit, Louisiana, gave in abundance. Sure, they’d been suspicious of the women when they’d first arrived in their tiny hamlet. But the prosperity the women had brought—the jobs and self-sufficiency—had earned them, if not acceptance then at least a place in this isolated community. However, the isolation, something the coven considered their greatest blessing, was now threatened. Progress had arrived.
She stayed in the grass beside the sidewalk, skirting Main Street and walking toward the river where her sisters were gathered. But as she neared the canal, she found they’d been joined by gawkers. Nearly all of Bonne Nuit was there.
Radha and Darcy stood glaring at the gathering on the opposite bank while Aoife and Miren stared at the clouds above them.
“You’re blind,” Miren said. “It’s a scimitar. A reminder we aren’t without weapons for this battle.”
Aoife shook her head, a frown bisecting her pale brows. “It’s the Reaper’s scythe. We’re doomed.”
Bryn rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to read portents in clouds. All she had to do was look straight across the divide at the big machinery and the crew of strangers there to operate the earthmovers, crane and dump trucks to know they were in real trouble.
“I take it the injunction was lifted?” she asked the group.
Radha nodded. “Last night. I’m sure they paid a judge to do it in the dark of night. Demons do their best work in the dark.”
Bryn took her gloomy response with a grain of salt. The witches were ever vigilant of demons, but the more likely culprit was simply the state’s schedule for recovery from the last hurricane. The bridge that had connected Bonne Nuit to the rest of the world had been swept away three years ago. Something the town had taken in stride since it was a cyclical occurrence. This part of Jefferson Parish was prone to flooding. And Gus Hearn, a local with a Duck Dynasty beard and an old ferry boat, provided transport across the water when needed.
Gus’s boat was already docked on the opposite bank, and he was loading two vehicles, a green construction-company pickup and a delivery truck bringing supplies to Darcy’s crafters’ cottage.
“We can’t take this lying down,” Darcy said, shaking back her long red hair. “Tonight’s a blue moon.”
Bryn stiffened. “The last time we asked for intervention didn’t turn out so well. Remember, we asked for rain for our summer planting? We got a deluge that nearly wiped out the entire crop. Perhaps we should let things be. They’ll build their bridge, and the Goddess will send another storm.”
Darcy’s frown was fierce. “But strangers will walk amongst us. What if we’re found?”
“So far we’ve been lucky. Blessed,” she said, her tone even and filled with conviction. “But we knew this day would come. We’re stronger now. If demons find us, we’ll simply show them we’ve grown a backbone, and that we don’t need their counsel or their manly protection.”
Darcy shrugged, but her green eyes still flashed with fire. “I don’t think we’ll bring bad luck if we ask for intervention and cast a banishing spell. I vote we meet tonight.”
The others glanced around their circle and slowly raised their hands. Four to one.
Bryn sighed. They had no leader, no high priestess, so majority ruled—a policy they’d adopted the moment they’d fled upper Michigan.
Tonight, they’d meet under the blue moon.
And while she’d scoffed at Miren’s and Aoife’s attempts at aeromancy, she felt a little guilty withholding her own confusing portent that had invaded her dreams the night before. The cloud above them wasn’t shaped like a scimitar or a scythe. If her dream was right, it was a penis. The dream filtered through her mind again…
Moonlight gleamed through curtains. Large, callused hands stroked over her back and buttocks as the man in her bed waited while she sank slowly on his cock.
She’d felt the pressure inside her, smelled his earthy musk. But while moonlight illuminated his brawny frame, his face had remained in shadow.
She’d interpreted the sex as meaning that her privacy was about to be invaded. That she’d be tempted to set aside her vow to remain celibate and autonomous while she constructed a self-sufficient life.
But the intimacy of the dream could also mean she’d been alone long enough. The company of her sisters couldn’t fulfill her innate need as one connected to the circle of life, to Gaia the mother—the need to bear children. Children would ensure their future as a coven.
Perhaps the fact she’d been unable to see his face meant that any man might serve her need. When they’d fled their previous life, they’d foresworn true love because a witch could only know love once in her lifetime. A human male could provide his seed, but only a demon could hold her heart. The danger of mating with a demon, of becoming enslaved to his desires, was too dangerous to her freedom.
Reaching into her pocket to rub the amethyst, she concentrated on her blessings—on her sisters and this quiet place, on all the bounty they had brought to the community with their works. Her finger warmed the stone, and it began to vibrate, sending warmth up her arm and through her shoulder before spreading down into chest.
Calm again, she squared her shoulders and stared across the water at the ferry bringing the first wave of strangers. Perhaps she’d been too quick to paint their arrival as something black and ominous. She’d wait and see. And tonight, when her small coven drew down the moon, she’d offer a small prayer to the Goddess for a sign.
A little over a year ago I had one of my short stories published with a series called Candy Hearts and released by the Wild Rose Press. Each story in the series revolved around Valentines Day, and each had to contain reference to the heart-shaped sugar candies with the goofy sayings on them like: Love U Forever; Be Mine; Take Me, I’m Yours. You get the picture. My story was titled For Keeps and it was a lot of fun to write.
When it came time to promote the story, the other Candy Hearts authors were willing to visit my blog but they only wanted to give me what they called a Media Kit. If I wanted to visit their blogs to promote For Keeps, I had to supply a Media Kit. Known among my friends and family as the Woman Who Needs to Get Out More, I had no clue what to do and was ready to hang it up.
So I asked and one of the authors very kindly showed me how to create a Media Kit. Step by step, cut and paste, be imaginative, she said. And whaddya know, it worked. Within one year I was teaching others how to create a Media Kit for each of their books. I call that Paying It Forward.
Now we come to Twitter, Tweeting and other similar social communication which do not involve dialing a phone. Up until six months ago I had no clue what Twitter or Tweeting meant, beyond a classroom of giggling eight year-olds who recently discovered Justin Timberlake or that man-child Bieber person. Okay, I’ll admit to hearing about tweeting when I tuned into Mike & Mike on ESPN every morning. These two guys tweet their . . . posteriors off several times a day. And it works—for them. Not me, I swore. I’d swallow my tongue before I did this “at hash tag whatever”. Like that’ll work.
Then I was invited to join a group of six authors to create stories for a box-set anthology set in a casino-resort near Niagara Falls in Western New York. One of the rules was each participating author was expected to tweet often, like daily. Okay okay, I grumbled. I’ll do this if I have to. If it kills me. I researched, I practiced, I learned. Now I’m helping others tweet. Wahoo. Let me tell you, I can re-tweet anyone’s butt off.
Facebook? Learned that one, sort of, after much trial and error. Then passed it on.
Pinterest? That, I learned, is soooo much fun, just like friends had been telling me for years. I now have Pinterest boards for each of my books, and I’m scheduled to present an on-line course in the value of creating Pinterest boards—not just for authors but for anyone interested.
By far, the best Paying It Forward concept I now employ is making seat belt cushions for patients who undergo chest surgery [mastectomies, pacemaker insertions, PICC line insertions for chemotherapy]. What began as a simple survival technique to stop the whining from the back seat, “this strap hurts my neck, Nana. Can’t I take it off?” evolved into helping others infinitely less fortunate than I.