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By Marie Dry
When Black Opal Books accepted Alien Mine, I was on top of the world. Until the moment I realized I had to write another book and this time I have to match the first book that sold 5000 copies in the first three months. That’s a lot of pressure for a new writer still learning her craft. I learned a lot from struggling with the second book. That I can write under pressure, that my brain can be forced to behave and write the book the publisher is waiting for. I also reaped the benefits of all the craft classes I took and the discipline I forced on myself since I started to write with publication in mind. By the time I had to write Alien Under Cover and suffered from the widely dreaded second book blues, I was used to writing three hours after work each day. Discipline and knowledge of my craft pulled me through. Of course then I thought if I can do this the rest will be easy. Big surprise when I wrote the third one? At the end of the day I learned that writing gets more difficult and not easier and that is half the attraction of writing. Struggling to get it right, working harder at your craft, hoping the book you are working on is good enough. That wonderful feeling of accomplishment when you hold your baby in your hands for the first time.
In a bleak and apocalyptic future, Julia Benzoni flees the violence-saturated world of her mafia family to build a peaceful life in a No Name Town, Montana. Now, while civilization disintegrates into anarchy around her and evil men prey on the innocent, she’s pursued by an alien, whose warrior life thrusts her back into the world where might makes right and violence is the order of the day. Torn, she now has to choose between her need to distance herself from war and violence and the alien warrior who holds her heart.
“I am not a demon,” Zurian said in English.
She shrank away from him, covering her ears with trembling hands.
“The salt was supposed to stop you,” she wailed and he braced himself in case she started that shrill screaming again.
“Superstitious nonsense and salt will not keep me out.”
If he hadn’t been so angry at her insult, he might have thought the confused look on her face amusing. When they first arrived, they’d found the human’s ugly faces difficult to read. After spending a long winter—with his leader’s breeder going everywhere she shouldn’t—and Zurian spying on the humans, he’d learned a lot.
“Okay.” She spoke in a placating manner that he did not appreciate. “I’m gone anyway,” she mumbled. She probably did not realize he had superior hearing.
“Nothing can stop me from getting to you.”
“That’s what you think,” she mumbled.
“If you run, I will follow you,” he stressed.
“A—all right, I get it.”
He could see she still did not understand. No place on this planet could hide her from him.
“Don’t you want to go back to your family? You know the demon—I mean family—that is probably missing you right now,” she said.
Again, he had to battle back the rage living inside him. “I do not have family. I am not demon.”
Julia nodded her head in agreement, in that irritating human habit his fellow warriors had picked up from his leader’s breeder.
“Uh, what exactly are you?”
“I am your warrior.”
“Is that a—”
His communicator bleeped and he was temped—for the first time since Zacar had allowed him to join his legion—to ignore his duty. He looked at her, wanting to remember her like this: her blue eyes flashing, her cheeks pink, and her toe tapping on the floor.
“I will return,” he told her and prepared to camouflage himself.
She waved him off. “Uh, really, don’t feel you have to.”
He walked up to her and pressed his forehead to hers. Her skin was cool and soft against his—so female—that, for a moment, he had to battle for control. She froze, not moving, barely breathing. Their scents mingled. He drew her sweet essence into his lungs while he stared into her eyes. Those eerie blue eyes stared up at him and he thought he could see terror reflected there. He’d always thought the human’s habit of kissing to be truly revolting but she tempted him to try it.
His communicator bleeped again.
“I will return for you. Be ready to leave for your new home when I come for you.” He stepped back and placed the pistol on the table and remembered Zacar’s advice. “I am pleased that you are nice and round.”
He struck his chest with his fist and then camouflaged. He knew she thought him gone from her dwelling when she moaned and sank down on the floor, her arms around her shaking knees. With one last look at her, he left to execute Zacar’s orders.
“Nice and round,” he heard her mutter and was glad he’d thought to compliment her.
Marie Dry love to read and write romance and only wish she had more time to write all the stories waiting to be told. She is on her Facebook author page every day except Sundays when she binge reads all the books in her TBR file. Come and chat with her on her Facebook author page. She posts and chats there every day.