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At War with a Broken Heart: A May-to-December MMM Romance

Dahlia Donovan’s bestselling MMM romance is on #99c sale for a limited time only! In this May-December romance with a twist, three men struggle through one obstacle after the other to somehow find themselves in love on the other side.
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“I love Dahlia’s characters, they’re flawed and human. They make me laugh and cry and feel awkward every time and I always wish their story wouldn’t end. Every time.” 5 Stars from Mommy Needs A Book.
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Unfinished Sympathy by Amélie S. Duncan




Title: Unfinished Sympathy
Series: Absolution #1
Author: Amélie S. Duncan
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: December 30, 2019



Blurb

A symphony of passion and desire…

Aubrey Irving has music in her heart. Once a violin prodigy at the prestigious Juilliard, family issues and money problems forced her to give up her dreams. Now she struggles as an audio engineer for a hot new video game developer.

Then she met Paul…

Handsome, gifted, wealthy…At twenty-eight years old, Paul Crane seems to have it all. He’s made a fortune as a modern commercial composer. But he longs to show the world that there’s more to his music than trendy, disposable tunes.

An impromptu audition awakens a yearning deep inside their hearts. But just as the sparks begin to fly, they both find themselves pulling away…

Aubrey has a dark and troubled past. Paul has a history of crossing the line with his clients. The last thing either of them wants is another temptation.

Can these two artists unlock their hearts, and compose a symphony of passion? Or will their love song fade out before it even begins?





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Author Bio

Amélie S. Duncan writes contemporary romances. Whether writing in the erotic, sports, or dark genres, all of her stories at the heart are character-driven. Her inspiration comes from many sources, including her life experiences and travels. She lives on the West Coast of the United States with her awesome husband and her sweet golden retriever Rosco. 



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Biker Beauties Volume 1 by Audrey Carlan




Title: Biker Beauties Volume 1
Series: Biker Beauties #1-2
Author: Audrey Carlan
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: December 30, 2019



Blurb

From Audrey Carlan, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Calendar Girl series.

Biker Babe (Biker Beauties #1)

Princess. That’s what the club calls me. I’m not frilly, into pink, or expect a man to woo me with chocolates and flowers. I don’t need candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach.

I’m not the girl you take home to your parents. I like wild, fun, and good times. I’m the kind of girl you put on the back of your bike and ride through the night…in more ways than one.

I like the wind in my hair and the open road before me. I was born a biker princess and I’ll be one until the day I die. The man in my life can try to tame me, but he’ll have one hell of a fight on his hands. Though if he wins, he’ll get the ultimate prize…all of me. Devoted. His old lady through thick and thin.

So when I opened my store, aptly named Biker Babe, I didn’t expect to have the biggest, sexiest, most jaw-dropping man walk into my shop and set my world on fire. I wanted him instantly. Only problem, my father is the president of the Hero’s Pride MC, and Taggart “Rex” Crawford is his new Vice President.

Our Pride likes to live wild and ride free but everyone knows the President’s daughter is off limits.


***


Biker Beloved (Biker Beauties #2)

The day I found out I was going to be a father was the scariest, most shocking moment of my life. Worse, my brand new baby girl was dropped off in the arms of my motorcycle club, abandoned by her mother while I was fighting in Afghanistan. Of course, I did what I had to do, and returned home as soon as possible.

At this point in my life, women were the last thing on my mind. I could easily pick up one at the bar or partake of the many club girls vying for The Pride’s attention.

Then she entered my sights.

Anya Markova.

It was her eyes I noticed first. Bright blue and haunted. They spoke of a sadness I wanted nothing more than to whisk away. My first attempt at wooing her didn’t go well. Anya wasn’t the type of girl I could just pick up. She was the type I’d need to court…relentlessly.

When I found out Anya was my daughter’s much-admired ballet teacher, I knew exactly what I had to do—and I wasn’t above using my daughter’s love of her new teacher to make it happen. Because throughout my years in the club, serving my country, traveling the world, I’d never met a woman who made my soul sigh the way she did.

Now, I’d stop at nothing to make this stunning ballerina my old lady.  

The Biker Beauties is a collection of interconnected standalone novellas. They can be read out of order if desired. They are high in heat, but don’t forget the sweet.







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Author Bio


Audrey Carlan is a #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. She writes wicked hot love stories that are designed to give the reader a romantic experience that’s sexy, sweet, and so hot your e-reader might melt. Some of her works include the wildly successful Calendar Girl Serial, the Trinity Trilogy and the International Guy Serial.

She lives in the California Valley where she enjoys her two children and the love of her life. When she’s not writing, you can find her teaching yoga, sipping wine with her “soul sisters” or with her nose stuck in a wicked hot romance novel.


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Cobra (Reapers MC #8) by Elizabeth Knox

Cobra (Reapers MC #8) by Elizabeth Knox Photographer: Reggie Deanching Cover Designer: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Creations Model: Cody Smith 
Add to your #TBR Here: https://bit.ly/2psYYTV
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Blurb:
Cobra

They say when you know, you know. The only thing I knew the second I met her was that she was crazier than I was, and that made me crave her even more. Only, things never work out the way you think they will.

She was hiding shit from me but more than that, she was hiding something from the club. After her betrayal I swore I wouldn’t love again, but just as I swore off women someone else came into the picture.

A breathtaking vixen that was sure to change my mind.  

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Essex Colony

Title: Essex Colony

Series: The Moon Mirror, Book One

Author: Lia Cooper

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 30, 2019

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 36600

Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy, LGBT, mutations, scientists, space travel, moon colonists, AI, shifter, interspecies, alien influence

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Synopsis

It’s been 227 days since Essex Colony’s last transmission… Dispatched to the surface of Essex Prime and tasked with discovering what happened to the colony, Doctor Soran Ingram discovers that most of the colonists are dead and the surviving Executive Officer—Aline Aster—has turned into a ravening wolf-beast. The human survivors claim the XO and her Lunaran fellows went mad and killed everyone, but Soran has her doubts. Following Aster’s testimony, as well as clues left behind, Soran embarks on a fact-finding mission to retrace the colony’s last steps before disaster struck. She’ll soon discover more than uncertainty lurks in the dark spaces of the world.

Excerpt

Essex Colony Lia Cooper © 2019 All Rights Reserved Federal Standard Days since Last Essex Colony Transmission…227 Essex Colony, Location: Essex Prime/Equatorial 10S, Greenwich Meridian 06:55 AM, Colony Time Soran stood at the forward port viewing station on board the starship Emery and watched Essex Prime spin slowly below her, a bright blue and green marble hanging in the dark of space. Technically speaking, the planet bore only a superficial resemblance to Earth, but she could see the appeal it must have had for the Earther colonists who had signed on to colonize it for the company. In her time working aboard the Emery, she had learned the importance of superficiality for her Earther colleagues. Something as simple as a color was often enough to evoke an emotional resonance for them. They had picked Essex Prime for colonization because someone in the company had nicknamed it Earth 3—not to be confused with Earth 2, a planet locally know as L’n’ze-q24—but Soran wondered what they would find when they went down there now. Two hundred and twenty-seven days since since the colony’s last official transmission plus no sign of comms signals since the Emery crossed into local communication range combined into an anxious loop in Soran’s lesser subroutines. Fear, she realized, fear of what they would find. Essex Prime wouldn’t be the first colony lost to catastrophic failure, whether from some unforeseen natural disaster or a breakdown in the colony’s equipment, or from a dangerous local agent that went unnoticed in the initial planetary surveys. There were a hundred things that could go wrong this far from galactic center. The ship’s computer beeped at her through the ship’s network to remind her she was expected on the airlock deck in fifteen minutes. She was dressed in her ground suit and had her go bag packed at her feet—just the essentials. The ship’s sensors hadn’t shown anything out of the ordinary, besides a lack of collected life signs large enough to belong to the colonists. This trip was intended as a brief scouting mission to ascertain the situation on the ground. <<Contact. Doctor Ingram, did you receive your departure reminder? Soran shouldered her go bag and acknowledged the computer’s check-in. Externally, she kept her expression blank as she made her way down to the airlock. That fear feeling squeezed at her regulatory system. If she were inclined to hope, she told herself, she’d hope that the colony’s comms equipment had simply suffered a mechanical breakdown and the colonists would greet them on the ground, all accounted for—all of them, but especially one Lunaran in particular. But even as the idea flickered through one of her lesser processes, another part of Soran wanted to shunt it away where it couldn’t hurt her to be disappointed. If she could only match her interior to the smooth expressionless surface of her exterior, then whatever they found couldn’t make that fear feeling worse. But her interior felt riotous, clenching and twisting tight as her boots crossed the threshold, loud on the docking bay floor. The transport ship awaited her along with the two dozen security and medical personnel scheduled to fly down for the recon. It had been nearly three years since she’d last seen Aline Aster, but Soran’s memory banks were nearly perfect—far superior to her Earther counterparts’—and she could recall with crisp clarity the feel of the Lunaran’s skin under her cutaneous sensors, the taste of her mouth, the sting of her teeth against Soran’s breasts, and the cadence of her voice winding down as she fell asleep still murmuring the words of a bedtime story from her homeworld. What would it feel like if Soran disembarked on Essex Prime to…nothing. No signs of life, no colony, no Aster waiting with a sheepish explanation for their silence? But Security Chief Ryan was gesturing at her impatiently to board the transport vessel and Soran did the only thing she could do with this reductive thought string—she cut and pasted it into its own file and then buried it deep below her internal checklist for the mission. They were minutes away from an answer one way or another. Or more precisely, fourteen hours later, she’d be staring into the malformed face of an answer while that fear in her chest crushed her heart into the sliver of a black hole. Soran didn’t have a single word in her mouth as she stood next to SC Ryan outside the detention cell, staring in at what remained of XO Aster. Soran had to think of her—it like that or she was afraid the anguish would overwhelm her. She’d never lost someone with a personal—and emotional—connection to her before, and she wasn’t sure that her software had been properly programmed to handle that sort of emotional upheaval. The last thing she could afford to do would be to lose herself here on the ground, especially in front of SC Ryan. “They found…it lurking around the edge of the forest. At the backside of the emergency compound,” SC Ryan said in a deep, bland voice, his eyes heavy on XO Aster’s hunched form. “Took enough electricity to stop an animal twice as big to subdue and facilitate capture.” Soran swallowed around the bile in her throat. “And you want me to…?” Ryan glanced at her finally, with a scowl, and said, “I don’t— Chelsea wants you to find out if it can talk. Find out why it killed the settlers. If there are any other Lunarans running around out there still. Probably a waste of time, but seeing as there’s nothing else for you to do down here, I figure you can’t hurt anything. Maybe ask it if this was their plan all along.” “Who? The Lunarans? You don’t really think this was intentional?” Soran angled her face so she could glimpse Ryan’s expression without looking at him directly. She knew it unnerved the Earthers when she stared at them too closely. “From what the survivors have told us—” he began. “XO Aster is a survivor,” Soran insisted, choosing to ignore that part where she showed little resemblance to her former shape and sentience. SC Ryan snorted and thrust a thick, calloused finger at the barrier separating them from the detention cell. “That’s a fucking monster,” he said. “If that were true then what is the point of me—” “I’m getting tired of your attitude, Ingram,” SC Ryan interrupted. He shot her a narrow-eyed look, a quick up and down that took in her entire person and always made Soran feel like a bug under a microscope—even if the Security Chief had probably never touched a microscope before. “You’re the ship shrink. Ask your questions, see what information you can get out of it, and report to Chelsea. Those are your orders. Don’t think about it too much; that’s not what they pay you for. Just collect the fucking data.” Soran watched him leave, the door shutting behind him with an ominous clang that seemed to resonate in her perfectly shaped enamel plated teeth. She stared down at her boots, straight and shoulder-width apart, holding her up while her processor counted the individual beats of her circulatory system. A minute passed, or what more felt like a quarter of an hour, before a hoarse voice scraped across the air between her and the detention cell. “S’not safe.” A shiver raced down her spine. Soran looked up and met Aster’s all too familiar eyes, her circulatory regulator thumping painfully against the metal ribs of her geneered skeleton.

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Meet the Author

Lia Cooper is a twenty-something native of the Pacific Northwest, voracious reader, pop-culture addict, and writer. She cultivated an early interest in writing through fandom and completed writing her first full length novel with the help of NaNoWriMo. In the years since, she’s dabbled in catering, barista-ing, and working as a pastry chef before finally returning full time to the thing she loves most: storytelling. When she’s not glued to Scrivener, Lia enjoys playing video games with friends and reviewing books for her booktube channel.

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Testament

Title: Testament

Author: Jose Nateras

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 30, 2019

Heat Level: 2 – Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 51400

Genre: Paranormal, LGBT, Chicago, paranormal, supernatural, thriller, Latinx, #ownvoices

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Synopsis

Gabe Espinosa, is trying to dig himself out of the darkness. Struggling with the emotional fallout of a breakup with his ex-boyfriend, Gabe returns to his job at The Rosebriar Room; the fine dining restaurant at the historic Sentinel Club Chicago Hotel. Already haunted by the ghosts of his severed relationship, he’s drastically unprepared for the ghosts of The Sentinel Club to focus their attentions on him as well. When a hotel guest violently attacks Gabe, he finds himself the target of a dark entity’s rage; a rage built upon ages of racial tension and toxic masculinity. Desperate to escape the dark spiral he’s found himself in, Gabe flees across the city of Chicago and dives into the history of the hotel itself. Now, Gabe must push himself to confront the sort of evil that transcends relationships and time, the sort of evil that causes damage that ripples across lives for generations. Gabe must fight to break free from the dark legacy of the past; both his own and that of the hotel he works in.

Excerpt

Testament Jose Nateras © 2019 All Rights Reserved I pulled out my phone and checked the time. I needed to be at work at six thirty, and unless the train started moving within the next five seconds, I would be late. A commute that usually took thirty minutes, door to door, was stretching closer and closer to taking forty minutes. Still, the train sat there, idle in its dark underground tunnel. There’s nothing worse than being late and getting stuck on a delayed train car at six fifteen in the morning. Fuck. I rocked back and forth impatiently, a loose rivet in my seat clicking arrhythmically in its socket. Most of the Chicago Transit Authority’s train cars were in some state of disrepair. This car in particular had maps of the train lines missing overhead, cracked lighting fixtures, fractured chrome, and unsecured hardware. The homeless man stretched out asleep across the seats at the other end of the car didn’t seem to care. Neither did the middle-aged nurse sitting kitty-corner from me, listening to music on her phone through bright-pink earbuds. I took a deep breath to stop my agitated rocking. The thick smell of synthetic flowers wafted along the length of the train car. An otherwise pleasant smell, in the enclosed space of the train car the scent was overwhelming, almost sickening. It had to be coming from the nurse. How’d I not notice the strength of her perfume sooner? It occurred to me, if I puked on the ‘L’ right then and there, I’d have no excuse but to call in sick. It wouldn’t be the first time someone threw up on the Blue Line. I wouldn’t even have to actually vomit. I could just call in, hop off the train at the next stop, and grab the next one headed back toward my apartment. Tempting, but I could practically hear the voice of my manager Leslie. “Really, Gabe? What the fuck? Aren’t you just coming back from an extended leave of absence, Mr. Espinosa?” With the sound of metal grinding on metal, the train started to move. I closed my eyes, allowing the momentum to build and hurdle me toward the misery of employment in the service industry. Maybe misery was an exaggeration. As the train came to an abrupt stop at the Monroe station, I tried to remind myself there were worse fields to work in. Six blocks stretched between the train platform and the Sentinel Club Hotel. More specifically, six blocks stretched between me and the hotel’s restaurant, the Rosebriar Room, where I worked as a host. Walking so far would typically take around nine minutes, and at 6:25 a.m., I only had five minutes to do so. Officially late, I somehow found the energy to hustle up the stairs from the underground train platform and race out into the November chill. I found myself caught behind a herd of Chicago commuters: business-bros and cubicle drones trotting to their respective jobs scattered across the Loop. Dodging between the office workers drowsily heading to work, I sprinted through the concrete canyon of downtown skyscrapers. It was still dark. Only after I made it to Michigan Avenue, across from the green expanse of Millennium Park, could I see the first streaks of orange in the dark-gray sky. I pulled out my phone again. 6:31 a.m. “Shit.” Speeding through the front doors of the hotel, I hurried to the service elevator. With no time to stop at the staff locker room down in the basement, I headed straight up to the thirteenth floor. People often say hotels are naturally creepy places. I hadn’t really thought about it one way or another until I started working in one. It was true. The Sentinel Club Chicago was creepy, and being one of the oldest buildings in the city only made it all the more eerie. Before becoming a boutique hotel, the SCC was a historied private men’s club, and the Rosebriar Room, now the hotel’s wood-paneled fine-dining restaurant, once served as the private dining room for the club’s most elite members. I’d been working there for a year and a half or so, and things I hadn’t noticed at first had started to weigh on my mind. More and more I found myself aware of the creepiness of the place. A laugh echoing in quiet, empty rooms. A flicker of movement out of the corner of an eye. A shadow on a wall with no one there to cast it. The feeling of being watched. The prospect of spending my morning in such a place sounded pretty miserable. Perhaps I hadn’t been so far off in describing my job as a “misery” after all.

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Meet the Author

Jose Nateras is a Chicago based Actor, Writer, and Director who’s worked extensively on stage and screen. Having trained at The Second City, The British American Drama Academy (Midsummer at Oxford ’09), Jose is a graduate of Loyola University Chicago. Having graduated with his MFA in Writing from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC), he’s a resident playwright with ALTA Chicago’s ‘El Semillero’ (residing at Victory Gardens). Jose has written a number of shorts, pilots, and full length films, and is a contributor for The A.V. Club and elsewhere. He’s also been known to play the role of adjunct professor and teaching artist around town from time to time as well.

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Unmasked Heart by Veronica Eden

Title: Unmasked Heart
Author: Veronica Eden
Genre: Dark NA Romance/Mafia Romance/Bully Romance
Release Date: December 30, 2019 
Annabeth
They call me a princess.
But I’m nothing like the royalty found in fairy tales. The Noble family aren’t the kind that live in castles.
The “prince” I’m promised to? He’s no Prince Charming.
Cohen took my first kiss and now he expects me to kiss the ground he walks on…as his wife.
Cohen
I always get what I want. Annabeth Noble broke my heart when we were kids and I can’t get her out of my head.
Now her prissy attitude pisses me off and turns me on in the same breath.
The family wants me to marry her? Fine.
But it’s time for her to learn her place.
I have a plan to prove she’s mine once and for all.
Before I’m through breaking her spirit, she’ll be begging to bow down to me.
I hate Cohen. I hate everything about him. I hate that his raspy chuckle and the filthy suggestion to ride his dick on the way to class makes my body betray me.
It needs to get with the program. Cohen Decker? He’s the enemy and no amount of dirty talk will change things.
Another chuckle rolls through him and I press my thighs together, ignoring the throb of heat.
Of course the devil would be a sinfully attractive asshole. It’s not fair.
Cohen moves into my personal space in one quick move, getting right up in my face. He clenches one hand in my hair so that I can’t back away and grazes his nose against my cheek. His hot breath puffs across my lips as he locks his other arm across my lap.
I struggle to keep my eyes from widening; I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to me.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Cohen promises in a rough, wicked voice.
You’ll have to make me. Because I’ll never be yours willingly.
I know better than to stoop to his level and play his mind games, but I forgot myself when he goaded me with Charity. Tipping my chin up as much as his hold allows, I level him with a cold stare. I hate him.
Cohen loosens his fist in my hair and skims his palm down my face, cupping my jaw, swiping his thumb over my cheek. He flicks his gaze own to my mouth and pulls at my lip with the pad of his thumb. He meets my eyes again.
I’m surrounded by him, the sharp scent of his expensive cologne and his warmth bombarding me.
My breath catches in my throat. Cohen leans in. Is he going to—?
He stops before kissing me with a hair’s breadth between us. A beat passes. A yellow cab lays on the horn and a bike messenger cuts through traffic, nearly side swiping the town car. Cohen snickers and leans back, leaving me cold without his body heat invading my senses.
“Not today. Let’s save the kissing for the wedding.”
I swallow. My body doesn’t know what it wants. I’m torn between chasing him to his side of the car to claim that missed kiss and tucking and rolling into New York traffic. I should jump out of the car. The last thing I want is to give Cohen the satisfaction of kissing me after he stole my first one.
Cohen turns me into a complete mess with a few choice words and his devil’s grin.
Veronica Eden is the author of dark new adult romances + reverse harem romances with spitfire heroines and irresistible heroes. She loves exploring complicated feelings, magical worlds, epic adventures, and the bond of characters that embrace us against the world. She has always been drawn to gruff antiheroes, clever villains, and the twisty-turns of morally gray decisions. She believes sometimes the villain should get the girl and is a sucker for a deliciously devilish antihero. Veronica Eden is the pen name of romance author Mara Townsend. When not writing, she can be found soaking up sunshine at the beach, snuggling in a pile with her untamed pack of animals (her husband, dog and cat), and surrounding herself with as many plants as she can get her hands on.
Release Blitz

The Hunt

Title: The Hunt

Series: Psychic Underground, Book Two

Author: Sarah Elkins

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: December 30, 2019

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 82100

Genre: Paranormal, LGBT, psychic ability, shifters, captivity, law enforcement/FBI, fantasy, medical personnel, shifters, paranormal

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Synopsis

The Facility is undergoing repairs after a chaotic failed escape attempt by several psychic test subjects some months ago. Neila and Henry’s mission is to locate potential psychics for the scientists at the Facility to study, but they have other ideas. Neila can’t shake the idea of Nikola Tesla from her mind, and it’s getting worse as bizarre things start happening to herself and Henry. As they hunt for more about Neila’s possible past life, they aren’t sure if they will find answers or if they will become the hunted. Things are not peaceful back at the Facility as troubling secrets come to light, and the Psychic Underground may never be the same.

Excerpt

The Hunt Sarah Elkins © 2019 All Rights Reserved The repair work on the Facility was slow going, but the director refused to forego using her office. The ceiling was still missing. New modern cameras, a phone, and internet were being installed: the works. Director Lianne McClaine sat behind her desk with her elbows on several paper files while she read the results from her last checkup with her oncologist on her tablet. The cancer had vanished. Out of nowhere. Gone. Her doctor was sure there had to be some sort of error with her previous tests. Cancer didn’t just go away. Not the type she had. The newly installed landline phone rang on her desk. “Director McClaine,” she said, leaving her answer vague. A director could be in charge of all sorts of things. No need to out their secret operation because of a wrong number. “Director, you wanted to see us?” Agent Henry Anderson replied. She remembered him saving her life. The painful feeling of them being temporarily linked; her bullet wounds healing at his beckoning. He had hijacked her body with his shapeshifting ability, but it had saved her life. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Despite being grateful to be alive, she also felt violated. The director tried to put the latter feeling out of her mind. “Yes. You and Blackbird report to my office.” “Yes, ma’am.” The call ended. The director glanced over the two paper files once more before she put them back in the bottom drawer of her desk. Agent Henry Anderson’s blood work and DNA tests had the same error the other shapeshifters at the Facility had. The results read as if he had just had a minor blood transfusion from multiple donors. There were traces from more than one blood type. The sort of errors that are normally attributed to contaminated samples. She should have noticed the pattern, even if the doctors hadn’t made the connection. They still hadn’t, but no denying it, he was a shapeshifter. Henry’s results weren’t the only ones with the error. Besides the known shapeshifters, there were two others with the same anomaly: the pyrokinetic, Wallace, who had been killed by Shorty four and a half months before and “Blackbird” Neila Roddenberry, who had killed Shorty after he had almost succeeded in killing everyone in the Facility. The whole incident had been a complete clusterfuck. Shorty, a telekinetic ex-con who, sick of being a prisoner and test subject in the Facility, rallied the rest of his test group of four men, Blue Team, to lead an escape attempt. The only reason anyone survived was because Henry had joined forces with several other test subjects. Three members of Green Team, the shapeshifters, used their powers to help the perpetually disoriented group of telepaths and several doctors escape, bypassing the Facility’s biometric scans by copying Lianne’s own DNA. Green Team’s efforts weren’t what put an end to the assault though. Shorty had his eyes on another test subject, the only other one down on paper as an agent, Neila Roddenberry. The woman had more than one ability and the skill to use them. After a vicious fight between members of Shorty’s Blue Team and the Facility’s surviving pyrokinetic, a nonbinary person named Lor, that wrecked the hallway leading to the Facility’s solitary holding cell, Henry managed to free Neila from the holding cell. Lianne wasn’t entirely clear on what happened afterward, but the two men Shorty sent to reach the Hole were soon very dead. Not long after, Shorty and his remaining team member found the director, killed her guards, and almost killed Lianne just before he brutally broke Neila’s leg and dragged the small woman away by her hair. Director McClaine was surprised she hadn’t been handed her ass on a platter by her superiors. They wanted an excuse to privatize the work the Facility was doing. The vultures circling the Facility had only grown in number since the incident. Defense contractors were interested in taking over where the clandestine government agency had continually failed. Private companies like White Rook and HUGO Defense had personnel trained to use the abilities most people assumed were utter bullshit, such as psychic powers like telekinesis, telepathy, pyrokinesis, shapeshifting, and God knew what else. The federal government was behind the private sector and had been for years. All Director McClaine had left was one more strike, just one more mistake, and she’d disappear into another dark hole somewhere. And even God wouldn’t have a clue what would happen to everyone else at the Facility.

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Meet the Author

Sarah Elkins is a comic artist and writer who nearly had to give up art entirely due to a form of ossifying tennis elbow that forced her to be unable to use her dominate hand for nearly a year. She spent much of that time writing novels with her left hand as a means to deal with the pain and stress of possibly never drawing again. Thanks to a treatment regimen she is able to draw again albeit not as easily or quickly as she once did. Sarah enjoys reading science fiction, horror, fantasy, weird stories, comics of every sort, as well as any biographical material about Nikola Tesla she can get her hands on (that doesn’t suggest he was from Venus.) She has worked in the comics industry since 2008 as a flatter (colorist assistant,) penciler, inker, and colorist. She contributed a comic to the massive anthology project Womanthology. Currently she (slowly) produces a webcomic called Magic Remains while writing as much as her body will allow.

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