Sky Warriors Book 1
by Sadie Carter
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Eden Summers has an unhealthy obsession with chocolate, a hate-hate relationship with the IRS, and a failing bakery. Her love life is…well, not dying, to be dying it would first have to exist, right? And the only person filling up her inbox is her overprotective mother.
To top things off her next-door neighbor is a rude, obnoxious sex maniac. When he’s not keeping her up half the night with all his banging and moaning, he’s turning her into a babbling idiot.
Because the man is gorgeous. Ripped. Mesmerising. A little strange. And when she is around him, her body melts into a pile of goo.
Marcun Clacka has come to Earth to locate a precious jewel for his client. He doesn’t like Earth; the people are inferior and, unlike his pack mates, he does not wish to find a human female to mate.
Humans are trouble. Fragile. And loud.
Except the tiny female who lives next to him isn’t too annoying. And she is quite attractive. Foolishly courageous. Yes, perhaps he could mate with her.
There is just one problem. Sky Warriors mate in packs. One female. Six males.
And Marcun does not intend to share the little female.
Best selling author, Sadie wanted to blend her love of writing, Sci-Fi (why did they cancel Firefly - sobs) and sexy, dominant males.
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Her heart raced, her palms growing even more sweaty and the plate of brownies she held slipped through her grasp. His reflexes quick, he reached out and grabbed the plate before it could smash to the ground.
“T-thank you,” she managed to spit out. Her manners so ingrained that even through the strange wash of heat swamping her body, she somehow managed to speak.
Yay! Go her!
Now if she could just remember how to speak some other words she might manage to get out of here without making a complete fool of herself.
He didn’t help her loss of brain function. He just stood there, staring down at her with a quizzical look on his stunning face, watching her as though she were a puzzle. Couldn’t he help her out by covering himself up? Then she might just remember why she was here, or what her own name was.
They continued to stare at each other. Say something. Anything.
“Brownies. Eden. Hi. Shirt.”
Oh for fucks sake. This was ridiculous.
I’m probably supposed to talk about my writing process (I procrastinate until I hit a deadline then write like a madwoman) or what inspires me (romantic comedies, pictures of sexy abs, Rebel Wilson) but I want to talk about the facial I had.
So I book into a facial that was on special (because I love to get a bargain) and I should have read the information more carefully because I seemed to have skipped the words ‘chemical peel’.
So as the very nice bubbly beauty therapist is explaining that my skin won’t peel, and I won’t have to take a week off work (I didn’t tell her the only person who sees me at work is the cat) I’m wondering if it’s too late to do a runner. Now, I know I can say no, but there is that bargain-hunter part of me that says ‘it’s on special’ and the writer part of me that says ‘its research, you can use this’.
So I lie back, ready to suffer through, with all sorts of scenarios running through my head (I’m a writer, we tend to have overactive imaginations), swearing I am never going to do this again…
And then it’s over. One minute of tiny pin prick sensations on my skin and it’s done. A relief and let down all in one. Then the lovely beauty therapist, cheerful as ever, gets out this vacuum thing to suck out all the ‘gunk’ (my word, not hers) and I walk out feeling like my face has been scalded and wondering if I’m even going to see a difference.
Then today, a stranger calls me stunning and gorgeous. And she wasn’t even drunk or blind.
Hmm…not saying I’ll do it again, but I’m going to take that compliment and run with it!