A blog hop is a shared blog event in which readers “hop” from one blog to another, following some type of trail.
JOIN US FOR BOOKHOOKS
Book Hooks is a weekly meme hosted by Marketing for Romance Writers as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each week for you the reader to discover current works in progress or previously published books by possibly new-to-you authors. Thank you for stopping by. Please say hello or leave a note in the comments.
JOIN US FOR BOOKHOOKS
Book Hooks is a weekly meme hosted by Marketing for Romance Writers as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each week for you the reader to discover current works in progress or previously published books by possibly new-to-you authors. Thank you for stopping by. Please say hello or leave a note in the comments.
JOIN US FOR BOOKHOOKS
Book Hooks is a weekly meme hosted by Marketing for Romance Writers as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It's a chance each week for you the reader to discover current works in progress or previously published books by possibly new-to-you authors. Thank you for stopping by. Please say hello or leave a note in the comments.
In this scene from At the Mercy of Her Pleasure, the story opens with Senth searching for his brother through the darkest side of Miraj City. The area known only as Crooktown…
Deep in the shadows outside a ruined warehouse, Senth Antonello shoved back the hood of his sensor-blocking cloak and fanned himself. The Thieves’ Guild tech let him hide from copbot scans, but it didn’t cool him. Sweat beaded on his skin. Using his fangs, he unfastened first one glove, then the other, and peeled them off. He tucked them into one of dozens of hidden pockets in the cloak, and wiped his face.
The faint sound of gang chant carried in the chilled night air. Gangs in the Crooktown District of Miraj City hunted mixed breeds like him. At first glance, Senth appeared human, but with his catlike eyes and fangs, no one could miss his Kin nature. In moonlight, his eyes would glow.
The chant grew louder, along with the sound of breaking glass. The deeper darkness that followed meant two things: another streetlight had met its end, and that gang was closer than Senth had thought.
“You come down here, I skin you.” Senth flattened himself against the brick wall. “I skin you, the Grand Master skins me. Let’s do each other a favor, huh, boys?”
Worse, the Grand Master would inform Senth’s Sen’dai. His guild master. The crime lord all the other crime lords feared. The Man. The Harbinger. Luc Saint-Cyr.
The Guild didn’t accept non-humans, unless they were enslaved to a human member. No one could rise past level ten, unless related to a human member. Guild-arranged marriages and adoptions happened regularly. To keep the Guild happy, Saint-Cyr was Senth’s lord and master and his adoptive father.
No way Senth wanted the Man angry with him. The last time, he’d almost…
Senth shook off the thought, drew his hood forward again, and edged around the corner into a darker alley. “Ffffftt!” The Kin cuss word hissed past his fangs. Where was Khyff? He had to be close. Senth had looked for hours. His HalfKin sense of smell caught a faint whiff of male, mixed with… He took another sniff. Someone–or something–else.
Pressed against the wall, Senth slipped around a corner, and hunkered down. He melted into the concealing darkness behind a barrel, and narrowed night-sensitive eyes.
His human half-brother leaned against the opposite wall of the trash-strewn alley. Khyffen Antonello’s blond hair shone in the muted light. A female pinned him, arms around his neck. She tore open Khyff’s shirt and ran her hands over his chest.
Senth folded himself into the tight space behind the barrel and settled in to wait. Protection of his brother went before any assignment. Family came first. At least tonight. And Khyff would need it in Crooktown, Miraj City’s worst district.
Senth’s mother had died after birthing him. Khyff, who’d been three, had been told Senth was dead, and Khyff had been sold into slavery. Neither of them knew the other lived until a month ago. Neither had a clue about their biological fathers. Until Khyff found him, Senth’s “family” consisted of the Man.
Pulling out a square of paper, Senth angled it to catch the dim light and read the words he’d copied from Saint-Cyr’s note once more. You and Khyffen meet me at The Ghost. I have a job for you. Do it and I’ll buy and free your brother, but it’s going to cost you.
Of course it would. The Man didn’t do anything for free. But if it got Khyff out of that hellhole, Senth would do it.
He tucked away the note, and slipped on his gloves.
Senth’s master had raised him to believe that no one should have to sell his body to survive. Saint-Cyr owned one slave, Senth, and only so he could rise within the Guild.
Senth and Saint-Cyr might not agree on much, but they both believed Khyff needed his freedom. With Khyff’s record, freeing him wouldn’t be cheap, and it sure wouldn’t be easy.
Check out this sweet Sci Fi romance with a kick: At the Mercy of Her Pleasure Click To TweetAntonello Brothers 1: a Scifi Romance
At the Mercy of Her Pleasure is a military science fiction romance set in a dystopian world. The standalone story has a heat level of sweet and has a happy ending.
Hired to steal back a prototype taken by the imperial armada, Senth Antonello retrieves it, but his brother is kidnapped to force Senth to surrender the device.
Now he has to rescue his brother, outsmart the armada, and keep the item out of imperial hands. All doable, except for one small problem. He must do it in the company of NarrAy Jorlan, a genetically altered woman whose pheromones could enhance the mission or crumble it into dust with a single siren kiss.
He’s a thief. She’s a soldier. Do opposites attract? Oh, mercy!
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Genre: Sweet Romance, Science Fiction Romance, Scifi
Heat level: PG – sweet romance with a kick
Book length: 59,650 words (full novel)
Publisher: Romance Lives Forever Books
Series: Antonello Brothers (standalone books)
Universal buy link https://books2read.com/u/m2o9P1
JOIN US FOR BOOKHOOKS
Book Hooks is a weekly meme hosted by Marketing for Romance Writers as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. It’s a chance each week for you the reader to discover current works in progress or previously published books by possibly new-to-you authors. Thank you for stopping by. Please say hello or leave a note in the comments.
Welcome to Book Hooks!Book Hooks is a weekly cooperative blog hop hosted by Marketing for Romance Writers as part of the MFRW Authors Blog.
It's a chance each week for you to discover current works in progress or previously published books by possibly new-to-you authors.
Thank you for stopping by.
Please say hello or leave a note in the comments.
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| Diversity Pays. |
Today, May 17th, is International Homophobia Awareness Day. I’m taking part in a series of blogs designed to bring attention to the subject.
I decided to focus on diversity in the military, because I’m a veteran. I served in the US Navy for four of the longest years of my life. ^_^ Everyone should have the right to work unimpeded by harrassment. As a woman, I experienced harrassment from shipmates who thought it their right to “Join the Navy and ride the WAVES.” WAVES = Women Accepted for Voluntary Emergency Service. By the time I joined, the “emergency” aspect was over, and the name had changed to WINS (Women in Naval Service). However, the phrase only changed to “Join the Navy and jam the WINS” (a play on jamming the winds on a sailing ship), so the attitude was the same. Women were not viewed as coworkers, but as sex objects. Two items we were required to wear were a girdle, and lipstick. I managed the lipstick (at least in the morning), but figured out about day two of boot camp that no one was going to feel me up for a girdle. I kept one on hand for uniform inspection (we had to occasionally show we had the proper “kit” on hand), but never wore one.
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| Pay for a Navy WAVE (1940s) |
When I reported to my first duty station, there were two heads (bathrooms). One was for men, the other for officers. Women had to walk to the next building, which housed offices. Fortunately, that changed not long after. Pay wasn’t bad. In the 40s, women were paid different amounts from men. By the time I came along, we were paid the same as men. But there were still things that kept women and men apart when it came to service. Our uniforms were different from men’s. Women were permitted to wear male fatigues (a type of dungaree and chambray shirt) when working in areas such as a flight line, rather than the more restrictive and detailed female pants and blouses with darts. I recall being told if I didn’t like a rule to “get back in your own uniform.” As if what I wore had something to do with my attitude.
I also thought it was disgraceful that women were referred to as “civilians under naval training” as if we didn’t really “cut it” to be true members of the military. It wasn’t until I was writing up a complaint about being called this that I noticed what the acronym would be: CUNT. It was a good thing no one had called me that within earshot. Back then, I had a tendency to speak before thinking. I’m amazed I got into as little trouble as I did. Before I submitted the report, we got a notice from the captain of the base that he had heard about this very term, and stated in strong terms that it was never to be used on the base again. If it wouldn’t have risked making me look like a girly girl (or being put on report for conduct unbecoming) I’d have hugged the man. :)
The very next day, one of the women in my squadron brought in a Chippendales poster to put in her locker, since the walls in her work area were plastered with naked women. Her male coworkers tore it down. Next morning, she and I went to the chief to complain about the double standard, and were told the captain had already taken care of that problem, too. It seems he had decided to give his new bride a tour of the facilities and did a walk-through prior to bringing her on base. The guys muttered for days, but the walls were plain green after that.
| Pay for all service members (2012) (from USNavy) |
It was wrong of my coworkers to treat women the way they did when we first arrived. Because the captain of the base took steps to ensure we women had a chance to prove ourselves, we were able to overcome the prejudices against us. I ended up making lifelong friends on that base, most of them with men. My husband and I still have good memories of them. We women were willing to stand up for ourselves, but having someone in leadership who took steps to do the right thing made all the difference for us. I hope you will do the right thing for gay, lesbian, and transgendered workers around you.
Are you in a position to speak up where you work? You might not be in a leadership position, but can you step in and prevent harrassment? Are you willing to allow people a chance to prove they are good workers, and see past their outside appearance? Are you willing to speak up when others are treated with less courtesy or respect? Would you want someone to stand up for your kid sister or brother if they were harrassed? What will you do when you see a gay, lesbian, or transgendered person spoken to in a less than courteous manner, or treated unfairly where you work? For some help about what to do and how to handle it, click this link. 2012 Diversity Pays
To visit other blogs in this hop, click HERE.
