By Edward Hoornaert
Genre: Science Fiction Romance
Age category: Adult
Release Date: October 20, 2016
Can a man and woman disagree about a little thing like murder and still be lovers?
Jo Eaglesbrood is born fully dressed, well-armed, and impatient to tackle her Destiny. Namely, killing her alien nation's most wanted fugitive. Her programmers want her to live a few hours, kill, then die.
But something goes wrong.
Darby Lapierre has the thankless task of protecting the surly fugitive while she recuperates from gunshot wounds. It's hard, but not impossible for a skillful bodyguard like Darby.
Until, that is, Jo shows up at the private hospital after an accident. Beautiful, naive young Jo knows nothing about life and love, and wants Darby to teach her. Just until she's well enough to attack her Destiny, of course. And then he'll be in the way . . . .
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"You scared me, lady. Some sentry I am, eh?"
Sentry: someone who guards. "Did you sit out here all night?"
Darby yawned again. "Most of today, too. You slept for thirty hours, Josette." He pulled away from me as though he didn't like my closeness.
He was evil, the enemy of my Destiny, so I leaned to within a handbreadth of his nose to annoy him. "You destroyed my clothes?"
"Out of my face, woman." He gently pushed me back. I lacked the strength to resist. "One of the nurses put your clothes in the hall closet so she wouldn't wake you." He pointed.
I stood carefully, determined to show no pain. If I moved slowly enough, my dizziness merely growled instead of baring fangs and lunging at my throat.
Darby looked at me in wonder. Creases wrinkled the corners of his mouth as he smiled. The creases were…dimples? Yes, dimples. How could an enemy have a face so appealing that my belly—though not my brain—felt warm and trusting? I turned, slowly of course, toward where he'd pointed.
"Uh, Josette. Your hospital gown is open at the back."
That observation didn't seem to require a response. I staggered five baby steps. Upon reaching the closet, I leaned against the wall as my head zoomed in wild circles, turning up into down and down into sideways.
"Jesus," he muttered.
The deity's name by itself imparted no information, and in any case it wasn't as important as getting dressed so I'd be like everyone else. The closet door had a round, fist-sized thingy at waist height. My mind didn't supply a name. When I grasped it, it wiggled, and when I turned it, the door opened. Doorknob, my mind belatedly explained.
My clothes hung inside, but my guns were gone. My packsack sat on the floor—minus, I already knew, my ten-thousand dollars.
Darby's footsteps hurried toward me. "Wait, Josette," he said in a rush. "I'll help you to your room and bring the clothes to you."
But I was already untying the bow at the back of my neck. As he reached me, my hospital gown fluttered to the carpet.
About the Author:
What kind of guy writes romance? A guy who married his high school sweetheart a week after graduation and still lives the HEA decades later. A guy who’s a certifiable Harlequin hero—he inspired Vicki Lewis Thompson’s Rita Award finalist Mr. Valentine, which is dedicated to him.
Ed started out writing contemporary romances for Silhouette Books, but these days he concentrates on science fiction romance. He’s been a teacher, principal, technical writer, salesman, janitor, and symphonic oboist. He and wife Judi live in Tucson, Arizona. They have three sons, a daughter, a mutt, and the galaxy’s most adorable grandson.
You can find and contact Edward Hoornaert here:
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