In the 26th century, humans and numerous alien races share the galaxy. Technology has advanced massively. Old Earth is a vast preserve and museum, and humans have spread to the stars. But some things remain the same. Love, lust, and money motivate both humans and other sentient species. Politics can get ugly. And crime can pay very well indeed.
The Malcolm, an independent interplanetary freighter, prefers to steer clear of both politics and crime, at least the kind of crime that doesn’t involve rescuing the occasional slave or exploited child on planets where such abominations are legal. Captain Mik and his loyal, if eccentric crew—Mik’s overprotective alien husband Gan, adventurous human mechanic Rita, bouncy cat-girl (and trained assassin) Xia, and PTSD-haunted ex-soldier Buck—usually succeed in keeping things only a little bit illegal. (One planet’s cash crop, after all, might be another’s favorite illicit recreational substance, and as long as no one’s getting hurt, why not get a cut of the profits?) But when a seemingly legitimate job goes supernova, the crew finds themselves up to their armpits in interplanetary espionage, art theft, and spies, and on the run from an infamous assassin. What a time to fall in love!
(Thrill-Kinky, coming 5/12/2015).
Luckily, Drax Jalricki—reformed (mostly) art thief, former (mostly) Banjali covert operative, and all-around winged hunk—has a plan to protect them.
But it involves hiding out on Cibari, the most dangerous planet in the galaxy.
Who knew Cibari was run by a felinoid warlord who might be the perfect match for Xia—if the straight-arrow detective sent from her homeworld to “rescue” her doesn’t win her heart, ears and adorable, perky tail first? And that’s not even talking about how the warlord and the detective are crazy about each other. Of course, it would help if any of them could tell the whole truth about who they are. (Book Two, Bad Kitty, coming 9/2015)
Who would guess that a hot cyborg who’s already survived more than a human lifetime could offer Buck both healing and love? But the cyborg shares a common, deadly enemy with the Malcolm’s crew, and surviving that confrontation will trigger all their inner demons. (Book Three, tentatively called Buck, Naked)
Dark secrets Mik hides even from Gan will come to a head and threaten them more than the enemies they’d hoped to escape. A mysterious stranger holds the key to Mik’s salvation… and unexpectedly, a key to both men’s hearts as well, if they’re willing to open that door. (Book Four, title TBD)
Thrill-Kinky (Chronicles of the Malcolm, Book 1)
Teresa Noelle Roberts
Publication Date: May 12, 2015
Sexual freefall is like a game of chicken, except the first one to let go wins.
Chronicles of the Malcolm, Book 1
Humans may have expanded to the stars, but they still have the annoying need to work for a living. Which is why Rita, crew member of the space freighter Malcolm, is stuck collecting recyclable slag rather than attending her favorite festival celebrating love and sexuality.
Things go from boring to interesting when she discovers a badly injured man who’s been thrown into a recycling bin to die. The catch, he’s gorgeous, winged, and naked.
Drax Jalricki, reformed (mostly) art thief and reluctant covert operative, is on an undercover mission to protect three planets when someone in his own government brands him a traitor. By virtue of association, Rita and her crew are going down with him.
From their first, hide-in-plain-sight quickie, the erotic spark between Rita and Drax is fueled by danger and adrenaline. But their growing suspicion that there’s more to their connection than lust may not matter if they don’t live through the night.
Warning: Hero and heroine who straddle the line of criminal behavior—and definitely violate public indecency statutes. Exhibitionist, dangerous sex. Dark, sordid pasts. Wild risk-taking. Giggly cat-girl sidekick who’s not just another pretty…tail. And the greatest risk of all: true love.
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At first, what Rita was seeing in the recycling bin didn’t make sense: rust, amber and saffron-colored feathers, tipped with black, and a swath of something green and purple that might have been festival draperies.
A gigantic bird?
But there weren’t any birds on San’bal, according to what she’d been able to learn on the Galaxinet, and she hadn’t seen anyone on her previous visit. If there had been birds, Xia would have chased and probably caught them, even if they’d been as big as this appeared to be.
A discarded costume with an animal underneath it? Part of last night’s festivities had involved the locals all running around in fabulous costumes, drinking copious quantities of the green bubbly booze.
Some costumed person who’d enjoyed way too much of green bubbly and had climbed into a recycling bin to sleep it off? It didn’t seem like a desirable location for that, but maybe his equally drunk friends tossed him in as a joke.
While she was still trying to sort it out, the lump of feathers moved.
Opened his eyes.
Stars and moons! Not a bird, not a costumed drunk—a Banjali.
Maybe she should have thought of that sooner, but you hardly ever saw Banjalis off Banjal. Their glorious wings were only fully functional on low-gravity planets, and anything approaching Old Earth norm, like San’bal, was uncomfortable.
“Hey, are you all right?” Rita asked, hoping he could understand her. “Need a hand getting out?” The gravity was probably too high for him to fly easily, especially if he was hung over.
The Banjali stirred, giving her a better view.
Definitely male. Definitely gorgeous. And definitely naked. Xia’s tail would have started twitching at first sight.
The pleasure of that view, however, was spoiled by the strips of purple and green synthsilk—they could have been torn from the buntings that draped anything in the city that didn’t move fast enough—gagging him and binding his ankles and wrists.
And by his injuries.
The poor man looked like he’d had a run-in with an Arcturian bearcat. His golden skin was a mass of bruises, scrapes and shallow cuts, one eye swollen shut. But Arcturian bearcats didn’t use laserpistols, and she was pretty damn sure the wound in his shoulder was a pistol shot.
Teresa Noelle Roberts started writing stories in kindergarten and she hasn’t stopped yet. A prolific author of short erotica, she’s also a published poet and fantasy writer—but hot paranormals and BDSM-spiced contemporaries are her favorites. Or they were, until she realized science-fiction romances offered new possibilities for outrageous adventure, wild sex and love that overcomes serious obstacles, including being from different species! She’s also a prolific author of short erotica, and a published poet and fantasy writer.
Find her at www.teresanoelleroberts.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, where she hangs out as @TeresNoeRoberts.