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By Pauline Baird Jones
Girl Gone Nova was never supposed to happen. Generally, my “process” is to commit random acts of writing, then be surprised when readers want more. (I’m getting better at that.) So I wrote The Key and readers wanted more. And there was this guy in The Key who was really ticked he didn’t get the girl. Persistently ticked, actually. He would not go away or get out of my head (one of the reasons he didn’t get the girl).
I pointed out to him that if he’d been meant to get the girl, he wouldn’t have a silly name. And he pointed back that the name was my fault not his. And I have to admit, he did not fall into line the way I’d planned him. He surprised me. So, against my will, I found myself wondering what woman would put up with him, I mean, be his match, his equal.
And then Doc strolled onto my mind’s stage. To the sound of The Addams Family theme song. She was dangerous. She was scary smart. Doing the impossible was her thing.
I introduced the impossible guy to the gal and this amazing thing happened.
I was a lot worried that I was writing a book with characters that readers would hate, another amazing thing happened. Readers loved Doc and they quit hating Helfron (I told you he had a silly name. lol)
Girl Gone Nova won an EPIC Best Book Award in 2010, which also helped me feel better about letting these two characters push me around. (I did get my own back by seriously hosing both of them before they got their happy ending. Bwahahaha)
Impossible missions, an irritating male, time travel and…love? Doc never saw that last one coming?
Doc—Delilah Oliver Clementyne—a covert genius and badass, is sent to another galaxy to do her usual impossible. But her high stakes mission is quickly complicated by a war, an encounter with wife-hunting aliens, and not one, but two bands of time travelers.
The only way it could get worse? If the heart she didn’t know she had starts beating for the bad guy…
Helfron Giddioni—the Leader of half a galaxy—is the guy most of that galaxy would like to shoot. So when he crosses paths with the most dangerous woman he’s ever met, he should fly as far away from her as he can get. Not go looking for her when she disappears.
When war looms on the event horizon, he’s just a little too happy he and Doc have to work together to save the galaxy—in the past, the present, and possibly the future.
Don’t miss out on this award-winning adventure of two people who should never have met, attempting the impossible in time and space—and in the intergalactic relationship zone.
“Morticia.” His voice was rich and faintly accented. “I am pleased to see you are well.”
He’d said her name almost as if he savored the sound of it, while his eyes revealed he was savoring the sight of her. His gaze peeled back who she tried to be and exposed someone she’d never met. She wanted to analyze that, too, but he dominated the landscape inside her head. Her feet carried her forward, without help from her quiescent brain. A small flicker of self-preservation tried to wave a warning flag, but curiosity trumped that, too, as a flood of interesting and new sensations flooded through her.
Her hand was still extended for a professional handshake, but when both his hands closed around it, professional went missing in action. The feel of his hands around hers cut through the fog of exhaustion with the precision of a laser lance. There was heat, pleasure, a feeling of unfurling, as if her insides were creaking open after a long sleep. Maybe she did like to be touched, at least by this man. That took her full circle to, why him?
Skin slid against skin as he turned it to find the pulse beating at her wrist. Holding her gaze with his, he pressed his mouth to the pulse point. Her core body temperature increased. So did respiration. Logically she knew both were side effects of desire, but logic couldn’t tell her why. She didn’t like not knowing why, but she liked this. Interesting.
“Morticia.” He breathed the word against her skin, making her pulse skitter.
“That’s,” she had to swallow once before she could finish, “not my name.”
She knew the nickname came from her dark hair and pale skin, and that it wasn’t meant to be kind. She bothered people. She bothered herself, sometimes. Just because she wasn’t normal, that didn’t mean she didn’t know what it was.
He looked up, his head at a mathematical angle that delivered maximum impact to her solar plexus. His precision was impressive. Breathing became difficult.
She shook her head, the movement languorous. “Morticia’s a kind of nickname.” Her voice didn’t sound like hers. And it was unlike her to be so imprecise. Or to sound so dreamy.
“What is your name?”
His hands still stroked hers, the pads of his fingers abrasive in a good way. It didn’t feel real. The words and feelings were right, but she was wrong. She tightened her grip on the medical file to keep it from sliding out of her weakened grip. For a few seconds she couldn’t remember her name, but then it emerged from the fog of sensation, not unlike a lighthouse beam in a storm.
“Delilah.” She hadn’t meant to say that one. No one called her Delilah, though she did have much in common with her namesake. It was a bad idea to trust her.
Pauline doesn’t love reality so she writes books. She tends to wander among the genres, rampaging like Godzilla (they were born the same year) through her characters lives, mixing peril and humor into her romance, but she always delivers a happy ending.