Mary Louise Davie is the author of Target Earth, You Only see What You Want To, and WWBB has interviewed about her writing in general. Why not read on to discover more and check out her book. It’s a cracker! WWBB: … Continue reading
Soul of a Warrior by Denna Holm A handsome blond stranger shows up at Kimi Wicker’s place of work claiming to be her mate. But he also claims to be from another world. She does what any sane woman would … Continue reading
Excerpt from the book EDEN
She started, her eyes flaring wide. The noise she heard echoed up the corridor. With her nerve failing, she jumped to her feet, allowing the broken appliance to fall to the floor. She could already hear heavy footsteps pounding up the corridor as she dashed across to the lobby.
At the exit, she slipped in a puddle of animal blood and fell, sprawling, to the ground. She began to scramble out of the doorway on her stomach, but her ankles were seized and she was whipped backwards at speed.
She was abruptly released, but the momentum caused her to roll until she hit the opposite wall. She lowered her hands, which had instinctively risen to shield her head against the impact, and peered fearfully at her attacker.
His feet, bare and soiled, were planted wide apart, and his naked chest was rising and falling rapidly. He threw something and she covered her head again. The crushed bottle caught her on the back of the hand. She stifled a shocked cry, and peered through her fingers at the alien, her stomach rolling and twisting like waves.
He reeled off a string of words, and she flinched at the tone. He bent towards her and she tried to hide within the wall, but she was lifted by the front of her suit and hung, like a ragdoll, from his hands. Her chin began to tremble.
She was deflated; all fight had fled her body.
‘I’m sorry.’ Tears fell in an endless rush. ‘I thought you’d gone. I thought you were on Taurus. Th-that’s w-why I drank it.’
She was shaken roughly, her head rocking on her shoulders, and then dropped. The instant she hit the floor she curled into the foetal position, with her arms covering her head.
Her senses were acute to sound, and her brain nagged her to flee, but she remained motionless. The old, old trick: play dead. It was miraculous how prehistoric instincts had quickly reasserted their position in her life.
Finally, the bare feet walked away. But she remained in a curled ball, the dismembered animal her neighbour, and wondered if the quality of her life would be worth the struggle to survive.
/* Style Definitions */
mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt;
Her senses were acute to sound, and her brain
nagged her to flee, but she remained motionless. The old, old trick: play dead.
Imagine being an astronaut.
Now imagine applying for a mission where you became one of the first humans to travel outside the solar system.
The training couldn’t prepare you for what was about to happen–the unimaginable.
Jenny Daykin, her co-travellers presumed dead, became shipwrecked on Eden.
She wasn’t alone.
Jenny Daykin, ordinary woman with an extraordinary dilemma: kill or be killed. Surrender or invade. Hunt or Hunted. Love or hate.
As the only survivors they rely on one another. But he isn’t human and the place she calls home, isn’t Earth
Jenny chose love. An emotion only felt by higher species such as you or I.
But do so-called ‘higher species’ need to have the thought-process of hope love? Or are such emotions mere survival instincts? Or, even, a disabling thought-process?
An error of human-kind?
Somehow, Jenny found herself wondering just that as she was forced to quell her emotions in order to survive.