Effing Feline discusses beds #wewriwa

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I, Effing Feline, don’t understand humans. A million things large and small evade even my vast feline understanding. For example, beds.

In today’s commercial for Love thy Galactic Enemy, when a guy enters the heroine’s communal room in the middle of the night, she leaps at him from the top bunk and knocks him out. Top bunk? Fine. I understand the urge to look down on the world. But who needs a separate piece of furniture for sleeping? That makes no sense.

Love thy Galactic Enemy will be available September 8. At that time, you can learn that the guy she knocked out is a new roommate, not an attacker. Oops.

After a few inarticulate sounds, he turned his head toward her and rumbled out, “Beautiful.”

“Huh?” she said, frowning as she tried to understand the slurred word. Then heat flooded her cheeks: “Oh gosh!”

Not yet fully awake, she’d forgotten she wore only underpants.

Spinning away from him, she flung one hand over her chest and made a fist with the other. He did nothing more; no grabbing or pawing. Nonetheless, it took several deep breaths before she could look over her shoulder at him.

“I guess,” she panted, “I owe you one peek, but we’re even now — never again and nothing more, understand?”

“Beware the jubjub bird,” he said clearly, though she must’ve misunderstood. “It attacks.”

Effing Feline here again. As I said, beds make no sense. We cats can (and do!) sleep anywhere. Anywhere, and that’s much cheaper. Laps. Floors. Pillows. Even Buddhas.

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Be sure to visit the other great writers in Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.

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Author’s depiction of a mizzet

Love thy Galactic Enemy

Abandoned to the enemy’s tender mercy

[image error]Minta, the reserved secretary for a spy team that spread a man-made plague, leaves the planet too late — the team abandons her on the enemy’s space station. She’s forced to fend for herself until she can make contact with an elusive spy, Watcher, who can take her home. To avoid arrest, she nurses a plague victim — a gentle, whimsical man who spouts Lewis Carroll. But to know this enemy is to love him . . .

When Finn Shanwing falls ill, he doesn’t intend to hide that he’s a high-ranking commando. Neither does he intend to fall in love with the secretive nurse who saves his life . . . but by the time he reveals to Minta that she saved an enemy commando, it’s too late for his heart. Or hers. Also too late to escape the wrath of Watcher — half-human, half-machine, and both halves obsessed with her.

Love thy Galactic Enemy is available for pre-order, so reserve your copy now:

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