Natalie’s loved and lost and she’s not so sure she wants to risk her heart again. She’s willing to settle for a challenging career as a space-pilot instructor and a succession of no-strings attached lovers. But that’s before her boss saddles her with the last thing she wants—a new partner.
Jebediah recognizes his perfect match in Natalie from the moment she seduces him on a dare. Everything that makes her a top-notch pilot, from her fearlessness to her passion, make a night in her bed both challenging and unforgettable. Too bad she cuts Jebediah off the moment they’re assigned to a mission in the outer limits of Alliance space.
A dangerous confrontation with a brutal enemy, an exploding drive engine and a traitor close to home throw everything into perspective. Natalie is going to have to put the past behind her and risk it all, because when your partner is also your lover, failure is not an option.
A Romantica® science fiction erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
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An Excerpt From: HER CYBORG LOVER
Copyright © ANNE KANE, 2014
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter One
Natalie pulled the cerebral interface down over her forehead, scanning the display with a practiced eye. A blip on the bottom corner of the screen caught her attention.
“Identify ship, lower quadrant.” She rolled her eyes, waiting impatiently for the computer’s reply. She already knew the answer, or as much as she needed to know. One of the hotshot cadets thought they could sneak up behind her and beat her back to the base.
“Ship identified as delta class reconnaissance pod. Single occupant, unidentified male. No flight plan filed.”
No flight plan? That certainly raised questions. Probably a lower class cadet returning from a routine scouting mission. Maybe she was wrong about their motives. After spending the last decade on active duty, she’d come to expect the younger pilots to challenge her. They thought mature meant slower and less alert. So long as he or she didn’t make any surprise moves, she’d ignore them. “Keep track of their progress.”
“Affirmative.” The ship’s deep voice no longer sent pangs of loss through her. After the accident that had taken her life mate, she’d programmed his voice into her ship’s avatar as a way of keeping him close. That had been almost a decade ago, though. Now, the voice belonged to her ship and if she thought of her lost love at all, it was with a fond nostalgia. Life went on.
“Can they see us?”
“Affirmative. Our cloaking shield is not engaged.”
Even as she prepared to give the cadet the benefit of the doubt, the other ship began to pick up speed, darting in front of her in an obvious show of contempt.
So much for playing Mrs. Nice Gal! “Computer, turn off autopilot. We’re going to show that little snot what a real woman can do.”
“Aye captain. Autopilot disengaged. Do you wish to hail the other ship?”
The scout ship slipped between two asteroids, picking up power as the pilot zigzagged his way through the rock-strewn sky with a flagrant disregard for his ship’s safety. Where did the kids learn to fly these days? In a vacuum? If he weren’t careful, he’d end up a red smear on one of those asteroids.
“Why not? Open hailing frequency.”
A few seconds passed as the avatar located the proper frequency. Natalie slipped the steering yoke over her shoulders, adrenaline already spiking through her as she prepared to meet the challenge. Designed for maximum integration of the ship and its pilot, the yoke made it easy for her to control every nuance of the fighter ship’s reactions. She rammed the throttle forward, engaging all four thrusters and leaning left to avoid colliding with a small rock that careened into her path as the ship surged forward.
“Hailing frequency open.”
Natalie took a deep breath. “Delta class scout ship. This is Captain Sparwood, lead instructor on Gamma Base Seven-Two-Seven. Identify yourself immediately.”
She waited impatiently for a reply. Even the greenest of cadets knew better than to openly defy her. Dead air lay between her and the scout ship. Seemed this cadet was stupider than most.
“Delta Class Scout ship. I order you to identify yourself, or be prepared to handle the consequences.”
A deep male chuckle rolled through the comm link. Natalie blinked. Laughter? Was the idiot actually laughing at her? He was so going to eat her dust, and that would be before she grounded his sorry ass for the next decade or two.
Thirty years of practice gave her the edge every single time one of the cadets pulled a stupid stunt like this. Engaging the infrared overlay on the cerebral interface, she mentally plotted the other ship’s most likely course. Only an experienced space jockey understood that the shortest route was rarely the quickest, or the easiest.
Sure enough, the idiot darted between the two large asteroids directly in front of him. A seasoned pilot would know that the combined gravitational fields of the rocks created a braking effect on any smaller object caught between the two of them. Real-life one on one versus theory in the classroom. She could almost feel sorry for the pilot as he struggled to wrest control of his ship from the two inanimate objects.
Almost, but not quite. She circled around the trap, putting herself directly between the rocket jockey and home base. Let him watch her tail for a while before she slapped him into the brig. Waggling her wings in an insulting salute that the unfortunate pilot couldn’t possibly miss, she veered toward home base.
She hadn’t quite finished congratulating herself on such a swift victory when her ship careened sideways, almost colliding with one of the smaller asteroids in the field. What the hell?
She jerked her head up, hardly able to believe the display in front of her eyes. The smaller ship had freed itself of the gravity well and moved to parallel her before turning so that his thrusters aimed directly at her side. When he fired them, the shock hit the pilot ship with all the force of a herd of thundering moon-cats. Crap! This kid had balls. Balls and the makings of a star-class fighter pilot—if she didn’t kill him first.
Getting the ship back under control, she reined in her temper and concentrated on chasing the smaller ship. It had been a long time since anyone had actually given her a run for her money. She wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Pilot, you just bought yourself a serious amount of time dirt-side. Again, I say, identify yourself.”
No answer.
“Who the hell are you?” Her voice harsh with suppressed rage, she gave the pilot one last chance to reply.
“Obviously a better pilot than you.” His voice was smooth and low, with a trace of male humor showing through. Arrogant, definitely arrogant. She felt a grudging respect for his lack of deference. He had her on the run and he knew it.
“I doubt that. I got careless and you got lucky.”
A disbelieving snort echoed through the com link. “I’m an excellent pilot. I don’t need luck.”
“And your name?” She didn’t recall the last time she’d spent this much time trying to extract information from a cadet. Who the hell was this guy?
An Excerpt From: HER CYBORG LOVER
Copyright © ANNE KANE, 2014
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter One
Natalie pulled the cerebral interface down over her forehead, scanning the display with a practiced eye. A blip on the bottom corner of the screen caught her attention.
“Identify ship, lower quadrant.” She rolled her eyes, waiting impatiently for the computer’s reply. She already knew the answer, or as much as she needed to know. One of the hotshot cadets thought they could sneak up behind her and beat her back to the base.
“Ship identified as delta class reconnaissance pod. Single occupant, unidentified male. No flight plan filed.”
No flight plan? That certainly raised questions. Probably a lower class cadet returning from a routine scouting mission. Maybe she was wrong about their motives. After spending the last decade on active duty, she’d come to expect the younger pilots to challenge her. They thought mature meant slower and less alert. So long as he or she didn’t make any surprise moves, she’d ignore them. “Keep track of their progress.”
“Affirmative.” The ship’s deep voice no longer sent pangs of loss through her. After the accident that had taken her life mate, she’d programmed his voice into her ship’s avatar as a way of keeping him close. That had been almost a decade ago, though. Now, the voice belonged to her ship and if she thought of her lost love at all, it was with a fond nostalgia. Life went on.
“Can they see us?”
“Affirmative. Our cloaking shield is not engaged.”
Even as she prepared to give the cadet the benefit of the doubt, the other ship began to pick up speed, darting in front of her in an obvious show of contempt.
So much for playing Mrs. Nice Gal! “Computer, turn off autopilot. We’re going to show that little snot what a real woman can do.”
“Aye captain. Autopilot disengaged. Do you wish to hail the other ship?”
The scout ship slipped between two asteroids, picking up power as the pilot zigzagged his way through the rock-strewn sky with a flagrant disregard for his ship’s safety. Where did the kids learn to fly these days? In a vacuum? If he weren’t careful, he’d end up a red smear on one of those asteroids.
“Why not? Open hailing frequency.”
A few seconds passed as the avatar located the proper frequency. Natalie slipped the steering yoke over her shoulders, adrenaline already spiking through her as she prepared to meet the challenge. Designed for maximum integration of the ship and its pilot, the yoke made it easy for her to control every nuance of the fighter ship’s reactions. She rammed the throttle forward, engaging all four thrusters and leaning left to avoid colliding with a small rock that careened into her path as the ship surged forward.
“Hailing frequency open.”
Natalie took a deep breath. “Delta class scout ship. This is Captain Sparwood, lead instructor on Gamma Base Seven-Two-Seven. Identify yourself immediately.”
She waited impatiently for a reply. Even the greenest of cadets knew better than to openly defy her. Dead air lay between her and the scout ship. Seemed this cadet was stupider than most.
“Delta Class Scout ship. I order you to identify yourself, or be prepared to handle the consequences.”
A deep male chuckle rolled through the comm link. Natalie blinked. Laughter? Was the idiot actually laughing at her? He was so going to eat her dust, and that would be before she grounded his sorry ass for the next decade or two.
Thirty years of practice gave her the edge every single time one of the cadets pulled a stupid stunt like this. Engaging the infrared overlay on the cerebral interface, she mentally plotted the other ship’s most likely course. Only an experienced space jockey understood that the shortest route was rarely the quickest, or the easiest.
Sure enough, the idiot darted between the two large asteroids directly in front of him. A seasoned pilot would know that the combined gravitational fields of the rocks created a braking effect on any smaller object caught between the two of them. Real-life one on one versus theory in the classroom. She could almost feel sorry for the pilot as he struggled to wrest control of his ship from the two inanimate objects.
Almost, but not quite. She circled around the trap, putting herself directly between the rocket jockey and home base. Let him watch her tail for a while before she slapped him into the brig. Waggling her wings in an insulting salute that the unfortunate pilot couldn’t possibly miss, she veered toward home base.
She hadn’t quite finished congratulating herself on such a swift victory when her ship careened sideways, almost colliding with one of the smaller asteroids in the field. What the hell?
She jerked her head up, hardly able to believe the display in front of her eyes. The smaller ship had freed itself of the gravity well and moved to parallel her before turning so that his thrusters aimed directly at her side. When he fired them, the shock hit the pilot ship with all the force of a herd of thundering moon-cats. Crap! This kid had balls. Balls and the makings of a star-class fighter pilot—if she didn’t kill him first.
Getting the ship back under control, she reined in her temper and concentrated on chasing the smaller ship. It had been a long time since anyone had actually given her a run for her money. She wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Pilot, you just bought yourself a serious amount of time dirt-side. Again, I say, identify yourself.”
No answer.
“Who the hell are you?” Her voice harsh with suppressed rage, she gave the pilot one last chance to reply.
“Obviously a better pilot than you.” His voice was smooth and low, with a trace of male humor showing through. Arrogant, definitely arrogant. She felt a grudging respect for his lack of deference. He had her on the run and he knew it.
“I doubt that. I got careless and you got lucky.”
A disbelieving snort echoed through the com link. “I’m an excellent pilot. I don’t need luck.”
“And your name?” She didn’t recall the last time she’d spent this much time trying to extract information from a cadet. Who the hell was this guy?
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