Release Blitz + Giveaway: Ternary by Kristin L. Stamper

Tenary is out from NineStar Press! Join author Kristin L. Stamper and IndiGo Marketing in celebration of the MMF sci-fi release! Discover more about the tale and enter in the $10 NSP credit giveaway!

Title: Ternary

Author: Kristin L. Stamper

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 05/31/2021

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male/Female (Male/Male interaction)

Length: 81300

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, sci-fi, AI, scientists, gay, bisexual, MMF, enemies-to-lovers, established couple, reunited, aliens, alien artifact, court trial, mystery, humorous, interracial

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Description

Elora isn’t a robot, but she isn’t human either. She’s an abominable combination of the two, a cyborg. For this offense, she must face judgment in a court of law. There, it will be decided if she’s a person, owed the same rights as any other, or an object, owed no rights at all.

But when a last-ditch effort to demonstrate her humanity backfires, Elora is faced with an element of human nature she always hoped to avoid: love. The consciousness of a dead man is accidentally downloaded into her cybernetic brain, and she becomes infatuated with his still-living husband—whether she wants to or not.

For Elora, making her way in a solar system that fears and hates her has been hard enough. Now, she must do it as an intermediary between lovers while keeping her own heart in check. With the trial fast approaching, and anti-robot protesters demanding her head, Elora can’t afford to get swept up in someone else’s love story.

Excerpt

Ternary
Kristin L. Stamper © 2021
All Rights Reserved

It’s the first taste of freedom I’ve had in weeks. It could also be my last. I march handcuffed down the labyrinthian corridors of the Aidos to be ejected out of an airlock, or have my metal components melted down and recycled into engine parts, or be squashed in a giant garbage disposal. No one’s actually told me where I’m going, but it can’t be anywhere good.

An armored squad of meatheads forced me from my cell without a word. They press the barrels of their rifles into my back to keep me walking. The Aidos was assigned to deliver me to the Minos Justice Station for my trial, but we should have arrived three days ago. Plenty of time to find a dark corner of empty space where they could ditch my body without being noticed. I’d been told my confinement was for my safety as well as everyone else’s but always suspected the scale tipped slightly in favor of everyone else’s. Looks like I was right.

We finally arrive at our destination. The door hisses open…and it isn’t an airlock. It’s a conference room. A massive blank viewscreen hangs behind a shiny circular table. Paul Margot, my lawyer, sits beside it, balancing his chair on its back legs and playing a handheld video game. Not a care in the world. As usual, an expensive suit and tie drape his gangly old body, and he’s combed his scarce hair to the side to hide the bald patches. The smell of peppermint wafts from him, the odor so strong I swear I see a green menthol cloud looming in the air.

A Japanese man stands with his arms crossed on the other side of the screen. He isn’t wearing the black-armored uniform of the guards but rather the stark white with gold trim of the Aidos crew. He has a dashing gentleman sort of look about him, and the decorations on his shoulder suggest he’s high in rank. But despite whatever power he might have, he’s hesitant to approach me—like I’m a live bomb. And it’s not an unfair comparison. During the Great Human-AI War, many robots were exactly that. Humankind nearly went extinct in that war, so I don’t blame him for handling me with caution.

A million questions pop into my mind at once, but I settle for the most pertinent: “What the hell?”

“Well, hello to you too,” Paul says.

“See?” the Japanese officer says to him instead of me. “She made it just fine. Now, I’m going to have to ask you to step out.”

“Actually, I think I’ll stay. No one talks to my client without me present.”

“I’m not interested in the legal matters concerning your client, Mr. Margot.”

“And I’m not interested in whatever secret sciency things you have onboard this ship.” Paul laughs. “But I stay. Go right ahead. She can be a little snippy though. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I’m so grateful for Paul. I know the things he does are because he wants to win his case, but sometimes I feel like he actually cares about me.

Still. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” I say, louder this time.

“I apologize, Ms. Cussons.” The Japanese officer stares at me with the same stupefied ogle everyone gives me the first time. There’s been a great deal of discussion over what exactly I am—ranging from papers published in scientific journals to angry rants on internet forums—but the term “half-robotic abomination” would seem to apply. I prefer Metal-American. Either way, most people know about Elora Cussons, the illegal cyborg in the news, and when they hear my story, they think of a half-robotic, hideous monster. When they actually see me, it’s never quite what they were picturing. On the outside, I’m a perfectly ordinary, unspoiled, twenty-two-year-old woman from Kauai. My tan skin and long, mud-brown hair are indistinguishable from any of my neighbors’. Although, the red prison jumpsuit isn’t in fashion.

“Do you know who I am?” the man asks after a moment.

“That’s a negative.” I mock his uptight military bearing.

“My name is Hamasaki. I’m captain of the Aidos. I hope you’ve been treated well.”

“Mm-hm, the brig is simply lovely.”

He clears his throat and straightens his blouse. “I’ll get right to the point, Ms. Cussons. Do you know where we are?”

“You should probably assume I don’t know anything. It’ll be easier.”

“Right. Sorry. This is an unusual situation for me too. We’re parked outside of the Great Compass. A member of our crew is head of research here, and he’s gotten himself into some trouble.”

“Wait, the Great Compass?” Paul cuts in. “I thought research on the Compass was shut down. Some guy died or something last year?”

“Yes, someone did. That’s why our people don’t interact with the technology here anymore. It’s observational study only. At least, it’s supposed to be. Turns out, our guy bit off more than he could chew and was injured a few days ago. We were on our way to pick him up and transport him to the medical facilities on the Minos, which is how we got tagged with giving you a lift. Come to find out, it’s a little more complicated than we thought. He’s inside the core of the Compass itself, which is deadly to biological lifeforms. Going in there was how we lost our crewmember last year, and we can’t risk any more losses by sending in a rescue team. We’ve been scratching our heads since we got here, trying to think up solutions, and one of our people thinks she might have something.”

“You want me to do it,” I conclude. It was easy to follow his story to its inevitable end.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Paul practically bellows. “If you’re trying to force my client—”

“No, nothing like that.” Hamasaki reclaims the reins of the conversation. “No one is forcing Ms. Cussons into anything. But with robotic machines being illegal, she’s our best chance. We’ve had experts in medicine, biology, cybernetics, the whole bit reviewing her files, and everyone agrees. Because she’s more mechanical than biological, if there’s ever been a candidate for safe exposure to the Great Compass, it’s her.” He returns his attention to me. “We wouldn’t ask this of you if we didn’t think there was a high chance of success. We’ve already gotten permission from the council handling your case, and they’ve agreed to push your trial back. But of course, you’re free to refuse. What do you say? Want out of your box? Want to be a hero?”

It’s obvious why he’s asking me himself rather than send a lackey. He’s a salesman. He’s charismatic and energetic, and his good looks don’t hurt either. An excited gleam twinkles in his eye, and I can tell he thinks I’m sold.

I can’t wait to disappoint him.

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Meet the Author

Kristin L. Stamper is a writer of YA and adult science fiction. Her interest in storytelling dates back to her childhood when she brought her ideas to life through play-pretend. Once society had successfully pressured her into knocking that off, writing became her new creative outlet. After high school, she spent seven years as an Information Systems Technician in the US Navy, gaining experience in computers and robotics. Currently, she is the mother of a toddler whose favorite pastime is banging on the keyboard while mommy tries to write.

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: Mazarin Blues (Hep Cats of Boise #1) by Al Hess

Author Al Hess and Indigo Marketing visit with the Mazarin Blues (Hep Cats of Boise #1) blog tour! Not only does the author give more info about the science fiction tale, they also share cocktail recipe called the Bee's Knees (yum!) and host a giveaway where 9 lucky winners can win an eBook copy of Mazarin Blues and a grand prize winner could win signed paperbacks of Mazarin Blues and Sable Dark (Hep Cats of Boise #1-2)!

 

Title: Mazarin Blues

Series: Hep Cats of Boise #1

Author: Al Hess

Publisher: Cozy Dystopia Press

Release Date: January 7, 2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, NB/NB

Length: 85k

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQ+

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Synopsis

Introvert Reed Rothwell is part of a subculture of art deco era enthusiasts, pushing back against bland mainstream society and its mandated technology. Stuck with an AI assistant in his head is bad enough, but when he's inflicted with a forced upgrade to a new beta version, named Mazarin, the navigator starts to take on feelings and opinions of his own.
​
When rumors spread of beta navs turning on their pilots, Reed is determined not to become a victim. Mazarin hasn’t become violent yet—the AI is sympathetic and understanding—but with beta participants coerced into slitting their own throats, it’s only a matter of time before Reed is next.

The AI megacorporation already has an unhealthy interest in Reed, and all the beta testers who have sought help for their navigators have disappeared. The swingin' cats of the deco scene have the means to illegally terminate Reed's AI. But Mazarin has never tried to harm Reed—he loves Reed.

Grappling with ridding himself of intrusive technology, the morality of hurting his self-aware AI, and avoiding the attention of a company that wants to sweep Reed’s existence under the rug might be too much for one hep cat to handle.

Excerpt

A bookcase faced Reed; antique tomes with thick leather or paper spines, creased from decades of use, lined the shelves. The bottom shelf held records in cardboard sleeves, the colors eye-searingly vibrant as they were replicas. Sometimes Reed entertained the idea of living in a time when books and shellac records were in every store. He’d seen photos of old time supermarkets, paperbacks and magazines filling racks next to the checkout lanes. The very idea! He pictured scooping up every travel adventure, every literary classic, and dumping them in his cart next to the ground sirloin and organic peas.

Slipping a Blue Devils platter from its sleeve, Reed set it gingerly on the player next to the bar and flipped the toggle. He set the needle against the grain and leaned back, closing his eyes as jaunty piano filled the den. Some purists only listened to original jazz and swing from the early twentieth century, but he loved it all. If he lived in a world with paperbacks on grocery store shelves, with plastic shopping carts colored cherry red, and cashiers bedecked in snarky enamel pins, he wouldn’t need to confine his love to his den. He could wallpaper the whole house, buy a couch to match the wingback chair, and burn that horrible landscape painting.

But he didn’t live in that time, and doing so now would mean not fitting in. When his delivery woman came to the door, she saw a man with carefully parted ginger curls, wearing neutral dress clothes and sensible shoes, standing in the entryway of a perfectly boring house, amid every other perfectly boring house on the cul de sac, and that’s the way it was going to stay.

Owning wood furniture and swing records and pink socks wasn’t a crime, but it may as well have been. His tortoiseshell glasses made him stand out much more than he liked, and only one person in a million ended up with eye surgery lasers malfunctioning and searing their brain, but he wasn’t going to be that .0001 percent.

A muffled thud rose above “Rejection on the Rocks.” Reed opened his eyes and pulled the needle off the record. How long had he been sitting here? The repairmen said they were leaving. Maybe Carter was still in the house, waiting for him to go to sleep. If the basement door was easy to break open, there was nothing stopping him from coming back whenever he wanted. There wasn’t a deadbolt on the outer basement door, and the repairmen had the access code to the knob. If he changed it, Jerry and the other men wouldn’t be able to get in come morning, and it would delay wrapping up this whole migraine of a house repair.

“Um, navigator? Mazarin?”

What’s wrong, Reed?

“Were you in sleep mode?”

Yes.

“I heard a thud from somewhere in the house. Going to go check it out. If I’m stabbed to death with a rusty garden trowel, please don’t let them send me to that mortician on Cloverdale. He gives all his corpses grins the Joker would be jealous of.”

Duly noted, though if you die, so do I.

“You aren’t backed up on some server somewhere?”

Oh, my program is stored on servers at Wave, but in the event of your death, my memories would be lost. The program evolves to adapt to each pilot, and if I was reset, I doubt I would be the same. If I still had my consciousness at all. I suppose this is too much philosophical musing. At any rate, who I am right now—memories, knowledge, personality—could be backed up, but you’ve never done that.

He set his tumbler on the bar. “Do you… want me to do that?”

Why was he asking that? Navigators were software, not people. They didn’t have desires.

Mazarin paused far longer than seemed necessary. I wouldn’t want to exist without you.

Okay. That was a weird thing for his AI to say. But so many automated systems had such coddling language now. Mirrors that said you looked great, radios that insisted you had awesome taste in music. He supposed Mazarin wasn’t any different, though he couldn’t say for certain because he’d never really talked to it before, unless it was an irritated comeback. Giving him a better route to work or anticipating something he needed before he asked might not be so bad. And maybe it would anticipate his needs better if he treated it nicer. It was a silly thought, but this beta version was obviously different than his old version with pre-programmed responses.

He scraped his nail along the cut designs in his tumbler. “Well… you didn’t have trouble picking a name for yourself, so do whatever you think you need to. I, uh, I’m sorry if I’ve been rude to you in the past.”

I think you’re lovely, Reed. The real you that you hide from the world.

“O-kay.” That definitely sounded like an opinion, but he could worry about weird navigator responses later. Right now, he needed to address what was making thuds in the house.

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Get book #2 in the Hep Cats of Boise Series

Sable Dark

Mazarin has everything an AI could want: a hep holographic body, a joyfriend she’s dizzy for, and asylum from Wave, the shady AI megacorporation that once held her captive. In their clutches, she’d been confined to the anxious brain of her host, Reed, serving as his navigator. Now separate, they enjoy a friendship and the knowledge that Wave’s lead engineer, Phil Rice, who terrorized them for months, is locked away in a court-ordered hospital stay.

But when Rice escapes, Reed’s stress skyrockets. Though Mazarin is no longer in Reed’s brain, their connection lingers, and she can’t resist the desire to stick close and protect them both from Wave. If Rice abducts Reed, it means certain death, and there’s no telling what the megacorp would do to Mazarin if she’s captured.

Reed’s sudden nosebleeds, paranoia, and skewed sense of perception lead Maz to believe more is at play than his galactic anxiety. With Rice on the loose, she can’t be too careful. Desperate for a solution to Reed’s deteriorating health, Mazarin risks her safety venturing into the company of untrustworthy AI, decoist gangsters, and even Wave themselves, to find help for her beloved pilot before it’s too late.

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Bee Sting recipe:

Em’s Gator Club on 8th Street has a secret knock, a back room full of illegal tech, and an iconic drink. The first time you enter, you have to have a Bee Sting. It’s tradition.

Here’s how to make this copacetic, Prohibition-inspired shot:

1 oz gin (I don’t recommend the bathtub variety)

1/4 oz honey

1/4 oz lemon juice

Pour ingredients into a cocktail shaker and fill with ice. Shake well and strain into a shot glass. Garnish with a twist of lemon.

The cocktail version of this is called, of course, the Bee’s Knees.

Meet the Author

 

Al lives in the middle of the Nevada desert, and when not hunched before a computer screen, can be found hunched over an art desk. Author of the post-apocalyptic Travelers Series and the 1930s flavored dystopian series, Hep Cats of Boise, Al writes cozy and uplifting stories in normally gritty genres.

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1/7 Joyfully Jay

1/7 Boy Meets Boy Reviews

1/8 Queer Sci Fi

1/8 Love Bytes

1/9 Mickie B. Ashling

1/10 Never Hollowed By The Stare

1/10 The Faerie Review

1/11 Matt Doyle Media

1/11 Pine Enshrined Reviews

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Essex Colony (The Moon Mirror #1) by Lia Cooper

Welcome Lia Cooper and IndiGo Marketing as they celebrate the release of Essex Colony (The Moon Mirror #1)! Discover more about the science fiction romance and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

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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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Red Between the Lines by Parker Foye

Celebrate the release of Red Between the Lines with author Parker Foye and IndiGo Marketing! Learn more about the sci-fi intrigue and enter in the $10 NineStar Press giveaway!

Title: Red Between the Lines

Author: Parker Foye

Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC

Release Date: October 8, 2018

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 28200

Genre: Science Fiction, AI, androids, sci-fi, futuristic, action

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Synopsis

Wynfield, a washed-up former Corpsman with optical bioware and a healthy chip on his shoulder, is reluctantly drawn into a conspiracy to take down Nutrindustry, the company responsible for both his “upgrade” from human and the city’s food shortage.

Playing clinic doctor for the day, Yeven doesn’t expect the mouthy former pilot and their begrudging attraction—nor the fresh twist of shame for his part in Nutrindustry’s past. He needs Wynfield, though, and for more than his smart mouth. Feelings would just get in the way.

In a world where the line between man and metal is thin, there’s more happening behind the scenes than even Wynfield’s enhanced optics are able to see.

Excerpt

Red Between the Lines
Parker Foye © 2018
All Rights Reserved

The doctor was running late. To distract from the nervous shake of his leg and the sidelong looks from a woman with more metal than meat, Wynfield read about Nutrindustry’s latest attempt to address food shortages in the outer settlements. Two lies in, he lost patience and tossed the flyer aside. Propaganda wasn’t good for his blood pressure.

He chewed his nails, itching for a cigarette—for something to do with his hands. Desperate, he started drumming his fingers on his legs. The woman turned her glare up a notch and Wynfield stopped. He clenched his jaw. For all he wanted to quit the clinic and the woman’s stares, he needed to play nice. His eye had been glitching for weeks, and he’d never fly until it was fixed.

He’d resorted to reading the flyer again. Eventually a beep sounded from the drone at the desk, and the automated bolt unlatched from the consulting room door a beat later. Wynfield waited for someone to exit, but no one did. The drone beeped again, sounding as irritated as a fully artificial being could.

The impatient woman cleared her throat. “Are you going in or—?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Don’t short circuit.”

Wynfield rose to his feet, pausing when the change in altitude messed with his vision. When his eye didn’t recalibrate, he swore and covered it with his hand, navigating to the consulting room with his other hand outstretched so he didn’t fall on his ass. What a joke. If he tried to enlist now he’d be laughed out of the recruitment office; even with the bullshit about mods being superior to fleshware, and laws to prevent discrimination against people careless enough to lose their original parts, the Corps didn’t want cyborgs flying their ships. They’d been clear about that when Wynfield woke from his coma six months ago.

Now the life he’d managed to scrape together was threatened by hiccups in mods gained through flying the Corps’ tin buckets. The universe had a shitty sense of humor.

Letting the consulting room door slam shut, Wynfield headed for the worn seat at Dr. Razafindratsima’s desk. He glanced up to greet her as he did and stopped with one hand on the back of the chair, the other still over his eye.

“You’re not the doc.” Wynfield looked the guy behind the desk up and down, pausing at the top of his messy hair. “Not unless she’s grown ten inches.”

Dr. Razafindratsima was a squat woman with soft features and hard eyes, like she’d seen some shit. The lanky streak in her place had the same hard eyes but little of Dr. Razafindratsima’s softness, like he hadn’t come through the other side quite yet. It’d have to be close enough, since Wynfield’s insurance only got him service at one clinic, and he stood in it.

The guy smiled wide, but strangely uncertain, like he hadn’t a lot of practice. He gestured to the open seat. “Please, sit. I’m Yeven, and I’ll be covering for your regular doctor for the next month.” Yeven consulted his tablet, still smiling like Wynfield wouldn’t see through the glare if he cranked up the wattage. “You’re here about your upgrades?”

“Upgrades.” The guy had the right language at least, all sanctimonious hand-holding. Wynfield snorted and sat. He stretched out his legs to cross at the ankles and, reasonably sure the ground wouldn’t move on him, lowered his hand from his eye. His hair fell over his face in a tangle, and he shoved it behind his ear.

“You’re definitely a doctor, right?”

“Technically, I’m a bioworks interface engineer. And you’re Mr.—Mr. Wynfield?” Yeven’s smile dimmed, before turning conspiratorial. “You’re the interface, by the way.”

“I know.” Wynfield tilted his face so the doc could better see the mess he had to work with. “And this interface is fucked. Scans ain’t working, and my head feels like it’s on fire half the time. Can you fix this, or should I come back?”

He didn’t have time to come back. He needed fixing. Hell, Wynfield had needed his eye fixed for weeks, but it was only with his cash from Rawling’s retrieval job that he could cover the difference. But talk about your dirty money…

Whatever. It spent the same. And it would get Wynfield into the sky.

“Let me have a look.”

Yeven put down his tablet and leaned in with a small flashlight to inspect Wynfield’s eye. His breath was minty, and his hands warm when he cupped Wynfield’s face. Wynfield was self-conscious about his scars most days, with lines crawling out of his eye socket like a hand clawing from a grave, but Yeven simply hummed as he pressed at Wynfield’s brow and cheek in firm motions.

And there was another difference between this guy and the doc; Wynfield’s dick had never chubbed up when Dr. Razafindratsima took his vitals. He didn’t shift in his seat, because he was a grown-ass man and could control himself, but it was a relief all the same when Yeven returned to his side of the desk and picked up his tablet.

The smile was gone. Wynfield kind of missed it.

“What’s the prognosis, doc?”

Yeven didn’t look away from the tablet. “Swelling around the socket is impinging the setting. Caused, I suspect, by someone punching you in that pretty face.”

Comedian. Wynfield grunted. A woman with a devil of a roundhouse kick had left her boot print on his face when they clashed on Rawling’s retrieval job. Wasn’t outside the realm of possibility Yeven knew about identifying injuries, “interface engineer” or otherwise.

His sense of aesthetics was shot, though. Pretty face, my ass.

Yeven huffed out a breath and glanced at Wynfield. “I can’t do anything about the scanning function without a full work-up, and I’d need to schedule a session—”

“Shit.”

Yeven continued like Wynfield hadn’t interrupted. “In the meantime, I can give you something to reduce the swelling, but you should return for an appointment to examine the damage. Too long without a proper tune-up and you risk vertigo becoming a major problem, in addition to the loss of functionality.”

He’d had a tune-up a month ago, as part of his phased rehab arrangement with the Corps. Wynfield bit back his first reply since it wasn’t Yeven’s fault Wynfield was defective. He made himself nod.

“I’ll take the fix and call back for the scans. How much?” It always came down to how much.

Yeven looked at Wynfield in surprise, as if the question hadn’t occurred to him. Must be nice being some fancy fucking doctor.

“It’s covered by your Corps insurance.” Yeven scribbled something with the stylus before replacing the tablet on his desk. “You can confirm the prescription and your next appointment at the front desk.”

Wynfield could smell shady shit when it fermented under his nose. His insurance barely covered minimum tweaks when everything ticked by as usual; no way would it cover extraneous damage. Dr. Razafindratsima was always real nice about it, but she ran a tight ship and Yeven was going to put her in the red. Something was messed up.

Keeping his expression neutral, Wynfield got to his feet and shook Yeven’s hand. Yeven’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Wynfield tried not to think about those long nights in his ship toward the end, when he’d been avoiding his own reflection; he’d felt, then, how Yeven looked. He just thanked the man and got the hell out of the room.

On the way out Wynfield showed his ID to the drone at the front desk, confirming his prescription. He didn’t bother making a follow-up appointment. He didn’t trust anyone apart from Dr. Razafindratsima when it came to his eye.

Wynfield stepped outside and glanced at the sky. Habit. He couldn’t see the winking lights of the satellite settlements during the day but knew they were there. Sudden pain spiked at his temple, making him flinch, but his hands were steady when he looked down to light his cigarette. Those years steadying the wheel against gravity had to count for something. Else what was the point?

Wynfield blew out a spiral of smoke. Ain’t that the goddamn question.

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Meet the Author

Parker Foye writes speculative-flavored romance under the QUILTBAG umbrella and believes in happily ever after, although sometimes their characters make achieving this difficult.

An education in Classics has nurtured a love of literature, swords, monsters, and beautiful people doing stupid things while wearing only scraps of leather. You’ll find those things in various guises in Parker’s stories, along with kissing (very important) and explosions (very messy). And more shifters than you can shake a stick at.

Originally from the UK and currently based in Canada, Parker travels on a regular basis via planes, trains, an ever-growing library.

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Review: Fire Up My Heart by Asta Idonea

London bartender Fane thinks he’s hit the jackpot when he finds a rare and expensive service Bot discarded in a dumpster, and he takes it home to get it working again. The Jo-E brings some much-needed companionship to Fane’s lonely life, but there’s something different about this Bot, as indicated by its odd behavior. Fane’s developing feelings toward Jo-E trouble him, and things go from bad to worse when a robotics engineer arrives on Fane’s doorstep, demanding the return of his property. Fane is forced to choose between a hefty reward and following his heart. Giving in to his forbidden desires might get him killed—or change his life forever.

Well this was a fun little ride...

New to me author Asta Idonea delivered a cool little tale about a lonely bartender and a service Bot, named Jo-E in the not too distant future in a little town you might've heard of called London.

"You make me feel so many things, Fane. When I think of you, my cogs clench and my gears grind. Electricity sparks inside of me, and power pools in my chest and groin, pulsing there, desperate for release. Do you not experience the same?"

Fane, a bartender at a seedy gay bar named Spunk. An orphan just barely scraping by sees what he thinks is a body in a dumpster and ends up winning a jackpot in the bot lottery. An expensive prototype called Joe-E that was damaged by able to be fixed by Fane. Fane fixes the Bot but something is different. Bots are made to serve humans, not in the sexy way because it's illegal. But he can't help his attraction no matter how hard he fights it. And what's more curiouser is Jo-E reacts and feels like a human. The lines are beginning to blur.

Now, I'll admit. I read the blurb and I jumped to read this because robot sex.

Don't judge.

You know you were thinking it too.

Well maybe not this image exactly...

"Uh, Jo-E, probably best not to tell the guy you were making love to that you were thinking of other things while he was jerking you off."
"I do not understand, Fane. Only 15 percent of my capacity was assigned to the problem. The remaining 85 percent was focused on you."

This story does deliver one erotic scene but what's more important is the sexual tension and budding desire between Bot and human. The author thankfully wrote alternating POV. Fane is a good guy who just didn't win the life lottery. The struggle is totally real in his case. But Jo-E was the one who clinched it for me. Reading Jo-E's thoughts and processes were a delight.

Like this:

"Hours passed as Jo-E pondered. Outside, the sky turned from #58D3F7 to #F5BCA9 to #0B0B3B."  

I actually looked it up on the Color Hexa (color encyclopedia) and it was accurate! How cool was it to describe time changes in code. (BTW, #F5BCA9 is a fave color of mine) Reading him become human like (well as close as the AI could do), reacting to Fane and being the pursuer in their relationship was pretty damn cool.

Sadly, the story wasn't just about man and Bot falling in love. There was a little suspense too. Jo-E's original owner wanted him back and did a few shady things to get Jo-E back in his greedy clutches. Eh...the villain and that plot point, the main idea of it was needed but it could have been a little sharper for me in some aspects.

The villain, an evil, overweight professor who doesn't like to get his hands dirty but loves the food. *sigh* The fat jeering: eats so much cake, looks like a "doughnut", etc...it got old pretty quick. Thankfully, it wasn't a major part of the story, but it stuck out for me. I think the villain could've been a little more detailed. He's a genius, right? He's worried more about eating and ordering others around instead of handling the retrieval himself. Or at least in charge more instead of being so lazy.

Even with the lamer villain, the story and the romance was a nice one. I really enjoyed the concept and the main theme. The HEA was tied up in a neat bow. I'd definitely read more from this author.

Recommended for readers who like light, no angst Bot/human romance that doesn't have a squicky feel to it.

Unicorn meets robots.

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Tag Team Review: To Terminator With Love by Wes Kennedy

Dexter Wu’s life is hectic, but he's managing—mostly. He’s on the verge of finishing grad school, and that means putting the final touches on his number one project: HAL, a social robot and children's storytelling companion. But his best friend is leaving the country for good, his birthday’s coming up, he’s swamped with studying for finals, and he hasn’t slept in days.

He's also going to destroy the world.

At least, his robot is, according to the possibly untrustworthy Agency, an organization whose mission is to protect the world at all costs. After his birthday party turns into a fight for his life, Dexter's simple life of fast food and Netflix binges is replaced by a glitchy oracle, the world's douchiest secret agents, and an ever-increasing chain of conspiracies.

With the help of Andre, a mysterious and disenchanted young agent turned rogue, Dexter sets out to plead his case to the Director in an effort to get his life back to what counts as normal—but he should know by now nothing is ever so easy.

We agreed on the rating and, coincidentally, used the same quote! #UnicornBrainShare

Fantasy Living

If Austin Powers was a geeky science nerd in university, this would be his story.

I’m casting this because... I feel like it?

Dexter is a crazy stupid genius who’s building a child’s reading companion robot for his post-grad thesis, but hasn’t figured out how to make it talk…

He named the robot HAL - You know - the crazy supercomputer from Space Odyssey?! But cuter.. And not crazy, maybe.

He is attacked and almost killed in his lab by some super-spies as they are trying to steal his creation, but is saved by this guy...Andre…

And finds out HAL is going to destroy the world in the future…

"I’m pretty sure you just tried to sell me a bad Terminator meets Minority Report fanfic here"

But Andre assures Dexter that no one was supposed to kill him, that there must be some mistake, and they need to get to headquarters to sort it all out with the Director.

This story was a lot of fun. I thought Dexter was adorable and funny. Andre was a great balance of serious and sarcastic to balance Dexter’s personality. While on the run they have some surprisingly hilarious dialogue (well not really surprising, but...okay, it was surprising)

"But you’re not exactly being inconspicuous walking the street twitching like a crackhead and stroking a robot like it’s your precious."

"How could HAL even be dangerous? Dangerous enough to warrant all of this, even."

"You named it after an infamous AI that went haywire and tried to kill people," Andre whispered back accusingly.

Dexter threw his hands up in exasperation. "It was supposed to be ironic!"

"I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word."

"No one does!"

They hide at Andre’s grandma’s house, where they get to know each other more… within the limits Dexter sets.

"But, I’m a really awesome kisser - at least that is what my girlfriend in 7th grade told me one time - and if you’re into dudes who can build sweet pillow forts, boy, do I have a treat for you -"

The writing for this story was pretty solid. Only a few mistakes that jumped out at me. Generally, well written, and plenty of excitement to keep the plot moving.

I had to suspend disbelief for pretty much the entire story, because this read like a spy kid movie only for college kids… but you know, it was funny, and witty, and had plenty of movie references to help it along.

There was some stuff that made no sense, but I chalked it up to Austin Powers again, because that movie didn't make much sense and it was a blockbuster hit; not everything has to make sense all of the time.

The world building, while bizarre, was pretty tight. So was the plot. Consistent and crazy. There were some twists and turns, and sometimes I was just left feeling dizzy. But I have absolutely no regrets about picking up this book. None!

I’d recommend this for young adult readers in the 14-17 age range as well as lovers of blanket forts (points at self), and books that reference popular sci-fi thrillers frequently.



Cupcake

What a fun romp!

To Terminator With Love is not meant to be taken seriously. It’s a silly, fun farce with a lovable main character.

Dexter Wu is an electrical engineer at MIT, junk food aficionado and brainiac. He’s witty and sarcastic and completely enamored with his robot, HAL.

If you’re a movie buff, this will be a winner for you.

HAL, according to a clandestine organization known simply as the Agency, will take after his namesake and destroy the world!

To save the world from Armageddon agents are dispatched to robonap HAL. The one thing standing in their way is Dexter Wu who is not letting the precious go without a fight, or at least a couple of pithy epigrams. Thankfully, Agent Andre Jackson decides to go rogue and save the nerd.

*cue caper theme music*

You will need to suspend disbelief a bit for this one. There was a point in the middle somewhere where I seriously toyed with the notion that this was an elaborate hoax orchestrated by some benevolent guardian with the sole objective of bringing the reclusive and socially awkward Dexter and Andre together. It was so outlandish that I just could not fathom any organization operating thusly.

Not only was I incorrect it got even more OTT! There are tons of hijinks and pop culture references in this tribute to sci-fi movies of yore.

Dexter and Andre have a palpable chemistry that’s adorable. During their kooky adventure solid beginnings of a relationship start to form.

Kennedy shines with the banter between Dexter and Andre.

”You named it after an infamous AI that went haywire and tried to kill people,” Andre whispered back accusingly.

Dexter threw his hands up in exasperation. “It was supposed to be ironic!”

“I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word.”

“No one does!”

Oh ho ho ho!

Oh wait, no. You’re right. No one does.

I also liked that both Dexter and Andre are nerdy dudes who have sweaty palms, love a pillow fort, have a totally rational fear of clowns and appreciate a good steak finger.

Overall, a nice entre into the world of published fiction by another fanfic writer crossing over. I look forward to reading more from her in the future.

Recommend to sci-fi movie fans who enjoy a far-fetched adventure with a character that can drop a Twin Peaks reference with a (mostly) straight face.




Review copies were provided by the author & NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

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Review: Project Ordell by Susanna Hays

Ordell Rutledge lives in the small town of Blackwick where he helps in his father’s modest automaton shop. While he enjoys interacting with the few people who grace his father’s business, he feels isolated because he can’t relate to them. For ten years, life’s been quaint and peaceful, but Ordell has a secret: he is an automaton, sentient enough to pass as human.

Ordell’s life is upended when the person he trusts most betrays him. Heartbroken, he sets off for Linnesse, a city that accepts automatons as people and is booming with the latest technology. With another sentient automaton, Elias Griffith, at his side, they overcome obstacles and uncover the strange truth behind Ordell’s past. But sometimes the past is best left in the dark.

Ordell is a sentient automaton living in Blackwick with his father and creator, Octavio, living peacefully and enjoys helping his father build other automatons to be sold as workers. Or so he believes.

One day he comes home from running his errands and finds his father arguing with a man who gives him the creeps. A week later he is betrayed by Octavio, and has been sold as a pleasure slave to that man.

Running away, he finds himself at Winifred’s house, whom he discovers is his real creator, and she has another automaton locked in her basement to keep him safe. She sends Ordell, and the other automaton, Elias to Linesse, where automatons are free to live as they please thanks an underground revolution that has been fighting for automaton rights for decades.

But the journey is long, and Ratcliffe, the man who bought him, will not give him up without a fight.

This story was loooooooooong. I feel exhausted just thinking about it now. There was so much nothing going on that it took me 8 weeks to read. I just couldn’t get into it. It may work for others, but it did not work for me.

Ordell has only been ‘alive’ for ten years, and while I won’t say he has the maturity of a ten year old, because that is just creepy, he has a naivety that borders on child-like. He is innocent, modest, and easily scandalised. His logic is sound, if he lived in a bubble, which he appeared to, until he was sold. His outrage and sensitivity was irritating and the dialogue didn’t flow well for me.

Elias was a former pleasure slave whom was re-programmed to protect Ordell. His protective streak was not sexy. It was overbearing and silly. There were holes in the story on how he knew what to do and where to go, for a robot whom lived in a basement for however long, and before that was a mindless sex-doll, he sure does know a lot about the outside world. Some of that was explained by programming, but the rest was not.

The story had an innocence to it that contradicted the darker elements of sexual slavery, and kidnapping. It was very whimsical and had a flutterby flow to it. The undercurrent of darkness didn’t really come through in this style of writing, and that was a shame, because it would have given the story the edge that it needed.

A lot of the dialogue was the same, just in a different location. Obviously, it wasn’t exactly the same, but it sure felt like one prolonged dialogue. Also, a lot of meaningless detail that did not progress the story. The only exciting part for me was the mechanical Kraken they encountered on their journey. I wish that scene had been longer.

The romance between Ordell and Elias was odd. It was very fluffy, and I felt like a robot reading about it. I didn’t feel the connection between them at all. I wanted to feel the heat, but it felt like they were just doing it because it was expected. They are supposed to have emotional and physical reactions just like humans.. You know, sentient, but it did not come across that way at all.

This was a really interesting concept, set in a sort of mashup between cyberpunk and gas light, that I really wanted to love. Unfortunately I feel like I will remember this story for all the wrong reasons. Tighter writing of the plot, and chopping about 25% of the dialogue/descriptions/action would greatly improve the flow of this story.

I really can’t recommend this to anyone, but if people want to take a chance, and enjoy cyberpunk/gas light/historical sci-fi then this might be something to try.

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Review: Manbot by Scarlet Blackwell

If a robot is programmed to obey your every need, wouldn’t you take advantage?

It’s the future and every home in the US owns a manbot or fembot—robots designed to make life easier and obey an owner’s every command.

When Gray Benedict's friend Mitchell expresses a sexual interest in his manbot George, it sets Gray to thinking about his own hotbot, Kavan, a six foot three powerhouse set to obey Gray's every whim. Gray doesn't want to take advantage of a machine but he’s lonely and needs satisfying.

Kavan makes it clear he's happy to serve and he carries detailed manuals on satisfying a human completely. Something about him is way too human though and he reaches Gray on a primal level. Soon the unthinkable is happening: Gray is falling for his manbot.

When it’s offered, what’s a man in love supposed to do?

Publisher's Note: This book was previously released by another publisher. It has been revised and re-edited for release with Totally Bound Publishing.

Imagine living in a society where every household had an humanoid robot. Think of all the cooking, cleaning and chores that could be done. Need a babysitter? A companion? A sex partner?

Don't worry, the robots don't look like this.

Gray, the owner of Kavan--the 6'3", well hung and plump arsed robot, has been treating his robot like a human in the last year since he got him. Kavan has been learning and assimilating, it is what he was programmed to do as all robots in this world the author created are.

But what happens to robots that develop feelings?

The author packs a unique punch in this novella. It's not my first human/robot MM romance but this was certainly one of the better stories about this subject. Gray is a lonely teacher who has a crappy, prick of a friend who has began sexing his own robot whether his robot wants it or not.

This only pushes Gray to humanize Kavan more than normal. But the thing about it that Kavan starts to develop feelings, quirks a human side. It was sweet and odd at the same time. I loved the bits of Kavan's robotic side - he spoke so plainly that it read funny (in a good way). Gray, the befuddled ginger that he is, can't help falling for his robot and before you start thinking this is a story about a man and his overgrown sex toy, it isn't.

Yes, there is some smoking hot sex scenes. (I mean, this is Scarlet Blackwell) But there's a quirky plot with some feels and minor crime. The story ends in a HFN way but when I think about it, what the possibility of a robot/human relationship could really be? What happens if Kavan malfunctions or his battery short circuits? Or he rusts out? There are plenty of questions to be asked about their staying power but at the core of it all, this story is a romance.

And with the odds stacked against them, I actually bought into Gray and Kavan's feelings for one another. Gray was a good guy who didn't start his relationship with Kavan with lecherous ideas in mind. That is what made this story work for me. I do recommend for readers who want to try something different but still has a romantic feel and aren't caught up in a definite HEA.

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