Introducing Mine Until Midnight by Linda Mooney

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Warning! Contains a clothes swap, levitating locomotives, watery soup, a pretty silver star, thousand-degree heat, attack dirigibles, and two people totally unprepared for whatever the future might hold for them.


He gambled and won something more valuable than money. He won love.

It started off as a little R&R on a backwater planet. All Ruce Haulk wanted was a place where he could breathe some fresh air, have a stiff drink, and perhaps while away a few hours at a game of chance. He should have known better. Before he's aware, he's embroiled in the middle of a flesh-peddling scheme, and the woman he "wins" is someone he never expected to find.
The moment Remi Clysonne saw the stranger take on Yarnell and his men single-handedly, she knew he was her only chance at escaping. She doesn't blame him when he doubts her claim that she's there to bring Yarnell to justice. What's more, she suspects there may be another reason why he's reluctant to offer aid.

What should have been a brief layover quickly becomes an all-out struggle for survival as Haulk and Remi battle their way out of an increasingly tangled mess. But the secrets they're keeping from each other may tear them apart before they manage to get away from this world and to safety. 

Okay, so I'm hooked. A SF and Steampunk Mash up!

Tell us a little about yourself and your writing.

My writing is very eclectic. Other than the fact that my stories are in the sci-fi, paranormal, or fantasy genres, I write about a full gamut of subjects. With more than 90 books under my belt, I’ve written just about everything including angels, vampires, dragons, aliens, ghosts, shapeshifters, witches, mermaids, superheroes, fairies, and cyborgs. My books are not quite what you would expect, some of which are stand alones, and a few series.

I’m currently a “hybrid” author. I have one final book with a NY publisher. Once that contract is up, I will become completely independently published author.

Do you write full time? 

Since I’ve retired from teaching (music, Kindergarten, and Pre-Kinder), I’m blessed to be able to write full time.

What are your writing aspirations?

In the short term, I hope to finish each of my planned series. In the long term, I would love to hit a major bestselling list. If I’m allowed to dream, I’d love to see one of my books turned into a movie. Needless to say, my long term goals are more like wishful thinking!

How did you come to write this story?

I take notes on all sorts of ideas. Sometimes, one, two, or three of those ideas will unexpectedly gel into a plot. Mine Until Midnight started out as a gelling of three ideas: a card game to “win” a woman for the night, a cyborg, and a frontier western set on an alien world. When I got a fourth idea of adding Steampunk elements to it, the story took off and seemed to write itself.

I love when that happens. Is this book part of a series?  

No. At least, it isn’t planned to be. But I learned a long time ago never to say never. I’ve had other stand alones which unexpectedly ended up getting a sequel.

Then, what project will you be working on next?

I have a paranormal fantasy set in a medieval-type country, and including lion shapeshifters, coming out in mid-June. It’s called Lionmeade. I’m currently working on book 4 of my sci-fi series Neverwylde, which will have a July release. And after that, I hope to write book 7 of my Battle Lord Saga entitled Their Battle Lord’s Sacrifice. That’s as far ahead as I’ve planned.

One surprising or interesting fact about yourself.

I’m a big horror fanatic. I love to watch horror movies, the gorier the better, and read horror magazines and books.

Is there anything else you'd like to tell us about yourself or your writing?

Sometimes I get my inspiration from a title, a picture, or a dare from a reader. If there’s a particular creature you’d like for me to try my hand at, I’m willing to give it a try!

Thank you for hosting me, Carole!

My pleasure. How about an excerpt?

They remained by the fire the rest of the night, stretched out on the floor and facing each other. They tried to get a few hours of sleep, but neither of them were able to get any decent amount of rest. 
Haulk awoke every hour and tuned his ears for any strange or unusual noise. Although he knew the equinoid would alert him at the slightest provocation, he feared Yarnell may have concocted a device to nullify the animal’s sensors. Haulk wouldn’t put it past the man. 
Several of those times, he observed Remi’s restlessness. Twice she opened her eyes to silently stare at him, and he knew she was just as nervous as he was. He tried to smile.
“I guess my time’s up.”
She gave him a confused look.
“Midnight,” he elaborated. “You were only mine until midnight.”
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “It would have cost you more to stay until dawn.”
“How much more?”
She gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a man stay longer than it took for him to get his load off.”
“I’m sorry.” 
“Don’t be. You’re the one helping me to bring Yarnell to justice.”
Remi rolled onto her other side, presenting her back to him and the fire. After a few moments, he realized she’d fallen back to sleep. Haulk closed his eyes and followed her.
He had no idea what time it was when he awoke, feeling chilled. The incendiary bar was nearly used up. All that was left were a few embers. He noticed Remi was curled into a ball for warmth. 
Getting stiffly to his feet, he walked over to the equinoid to retrieve another bar from the saddlebags. As he rummaged inside, he glanced out the grimy window to observe a slight brightening on the horizon.
False dawn.
In the distance, a bird hovered in the cloudless sky, kept aloft by the thermals. Haulk paused to observe it, finding an odd sense of serenity at the way it seemed to float nearly unmoving, never flapping its wings. The bird turned slightly…
Haulk slammed his back against the wall. His sudden movement and sound aroused Remi. She started to rise, when he motioned for her to stay down.
“What?” she whispered. Picking up her blaster, she slid across the floor to join him.
“There’s a dirigible outside. A small one, I’m guessing. It must be one of Yarnell’s security airships. It looks like a bird with wings on the side. I’ve never seen another like it.”
“Yep, that’s one of Yarnell’s eyes. He has a rear room full of screens where a guy keeps constant watch over what’s being transmitted back.”
“Is it equipped with infrared?”
“I don’t know, but I would assume. I wonder how long it’s been out there.”
“I don’t have any idea. I thought at first it was a bird. It seemed to be drifting away from us, but then it turned in our direction.”
Remi’s expression hardened. “It must have spotted the cabin and is coming over to investigate. We have to run, Haulk.”
“We can’t. If we do, it’ll relay our position to Yarnell,” he argued.
“And if that thing has infrared, it’ll see our heat signatures inside here,” she countered. 
He paused, weighing the risks. “Remi, how fast can those things move?”
“Do we want to hang around to find out?” She nodded at the equinoid. “Can that thing run while it’s juicing up?”
“A better question would be, can it outrun that air drone? Guess there’s only one way to know for sure.” He reached out to her to help her up into the saddle but she waved him away, grabbed a handful of her skirt, and hoisted herself up. He checked outside to find the aircraft had moved closer to the cabin. Pressing the button on his collar, he tried to hail his ship. “Juliet?”
Silence.
“Damn!” He cast his eyes over to Remi. “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions where we could go?”
She pressed her lips together. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”
Haulk glanced outside, judging the distance between the blimp and the cabin. “Are those things armed?”
“I don’t know.”
Frowning, he turned back to her. “You know this planet better than I do. What do you suggest?”
“Go back to town.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re serious.”
“What can we do out here? Hope that we’ll eventually get far enough away for your ship to come pick us up?”
He grudgingly admitted that was what he’d been thinking. 
“Have you regained contact with the ship?”
“Not yet.”
She gave him one of those “well?” looks. He gave a quick nod and chanced another look-see out the window. The dirigible was close enough for him to see the antennae protruding from the airship’s belly. He roughly guesstimated the thing to be three meters in length. Too small to be physically manned. Definitely remotely controlled.
“And go where in town?” he almost growled irritably.
Remi grinned. “To hide in plain sight.”
“You mean, blend in with the natives?”
“They hate Yarnell to a man. They’ll be more than happy to help us blend in. Of course, you’ll have to leave this baby behind.”
“If we leave her at the stables, then Yarnell’s men will know we’re back.” He eyed the equinoid. “I have another idea. Get off.”
She obeyed and waited for what he’d do next.
He removed the saddlebags from the creature, then took out another incendiary rod before handing the bags to her. “Here. Hold these.” Breaking the rod, he struck the ends together until flames burst from the tips. Haulk jammed the blunt ends under the edge of the saddle.
“I get it,” Remi murmured. “You’re betting the tracker can detect a heat signature. So you’re going to send your horse out to lure it away so we can backtrack to town.”
He flashed her a smile. “This rod puts out an incredible amount of heat. Hopefully more than the two of us combined. Between the heat and the movement, it should be enough to lead the airship away from the cabin. Come on, old girl.” He patted the equinoid’s neck and opened the small panel at its shoulder. 
She watched him adjust a few controls. “Will it go without a driver?”
“All I have to do is set a direction and speed.”
“Will you be able to retrieve it later on?”
He closed the panel. “After we get back to my ship, Juliet will be able to track it. She can also override the programming to bring it back to us. All right.” Haulk looked at her, glancing down at her long skirt. “You ready to run?”
Remi handed the saddlebags back to him, grabbed the fabric, and tucked the hem into her waistband. “I’m ready.”
“Let’s see if this works.” He slapped the animal’s rump, triggering it to move forward. The creature leaped off the porch, stopped, then turned around to face away from the cabin. The equinoid gave a shake of its head before taking off at a fast gallop. In the early morning light, the bright, hot flames coming off the two pieces of incendiary rod enveloped the animal in a white halo. 
Haulk and Remi watched from inside the cabin to see what the dirigible would do. As they’d hoped, the airship spotted the movement. It gradually turned around and began to follow it. From the window, Haulk could barely make out the whir of the ship’s engines as it sped up to keep the equinoid in range.
He reached over to tap Remi on the arm. She jerked away from him and immediately apologized.
“Sorry. I…”
He tried to hide his disappointment. Why would he think she would be any different?
“At my signal, stay behind me.”
He saw her nod when a barrage of shots rang out. They stared in shock out the window to discover the pursuing blimp firing at the equinoid. Projectiles peppered the ground as the mechanical animal continued onward, neither slowing nor swerving to avoid being hit as it followed its original programming.
“Now! While it’s attention is diverted! Run!” Haulk called out to her and took off.

Linda loves to write sensuously erotic romance with a fantasy, paranormal, or science fiction flair. Her technique is often described as being as visual as a motion picture or graphic novel.

A wife, mother, grandmother, and retired Kindergarten and music teacher, she lives in a small south Texas town near the Gulf coast where she delves into other worlds filled with daring exploits, adventure, and intense love.

She has numerous best sellers, including 10 consecutive #1s. In 2009, she was named Whiskey Creek Press Torrid's Author of the Year, and her book My Strength, My Power, My Love was named the 2009 WCPT Book of the Year. In 2011, her book Lord of Thunder was named the Epic Ebook "Eppie" Award Winner for Best Erotic Sci-Fi Romance.

In addition, she write naughty erotic romances under the name of Carolyn Gregg, and horror under the pseudonym of Gail Smith.

For more information about Linda's books and titles, and to sign up for her newsletter, please visit her website.

http://www.LindaMooney.com

Blog: http://lindamooney.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MusicAndPress

Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/735249946549380/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LindaMooney

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Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Linda_Mooney

Blog Talk Radio: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/other_worlds_of_romance

Introducing Science Fiction Writer and Broad Universe Member Stacey Bryan-Author of Day for Night

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When reality TV star Rae Miller is kicked unceremoniously to the curb by her back-stabbing cast mates, she quickly realizes that revenge fantasies and unemployment are the least of her problems after she witnesses an alien abduction in broad daylight. Worse, after escaping a terrifying almost-abduction herself, Rae succumbs to a sexy Nosferatu’s silky assurances, becoming undead in order to up her alien Ultimate Fighting skills. Life is hard as a 38-to-40-something aspiring actress in L.A. Thank God for Jack Daniel’s and denial.


I'm welcoming Stacey Bryan with a tale she has spun out of Tinseltown--Los Angeles, California. Perhaps the only place besides New York City I've been where reality blends with fantasy so easily.

Tell us a little about yourself and your writing

I grew up in the San Fernando Valley where I was a loner and climbed a lot of trees. My black cat, Mr. Smith, followed me everywhere. Although I was accident prone, I was in gymnastics from seven to seventeen and never broke any bones. I buried my head in books to avoid socializing and eventually began to write my own stories. Later, my writing mentor, novelist Brian Moore, suggested gently that I shouldn’t traverse into “second reality,” and I remained firmly planted in “first reality” for years until I realized I enjoyed laughing and fantasy more than writing about depressing and serious topics.

Do you write full time? If not, what is your "other occupation?"

I caption for the hearing impaired which, yes, does involve watching TV shows and movies for a living, but has become increasingly more technical and “output heavy” since I started, with  surprisingly less emphasis on grammar and punctuation. I think it’s the beginning of the fall of civilization, personally.


Not that it seems hard to guess, given the presence of the film industry in your neighborhood, but what are your writing inspirations?

Someone can say something odd, and it’ll inspire a story. I can hear certain music. Movies like All the Mornings of the World, Map of the Human Heart, and There will be Blood inspire me. And, of course, authors like Octavia Butler, Cormac McCarthy, Tama Janowitz.

How did you come to write this story?

I wrote a short story about a woman minding her own business when bizarre things start to happen that was light and tongue in cheek. It was fun to write, and then it was well-accepted by an online magazine, so I decided to expand it into a novel.

Is this book part of a series?

This is book one in what will become a series. 

So, tell us a bit about the characters and who we might be meeting in the future.

Although it’s a standalone, I can say right now that I left a few things intentionally murky, like why the main protagonist, Rae, a wannabe actress with very little talent, has such a devoted agent, why the Moorish physical therapist she’s dating can’t say his brother’s name without a hitch in his voice, how it was possible that Rae was under water for 15 minutes as a child and didn’t sustain brain damage, and what it means that she’s always had “magic” in her life but just never noticed it.


Give us one surprising or interesting fact about yourself.

According to my mother, I didn’t smile until I was almost two years old when I was given bread to eat for the first time.

Is there anything else about yourself you'd like to tell us about yourself or your writing?

Part of me wishes I’d come of age in an earlier time. I heard a story about an author from the ‘30s or ‘40s, possibly John Fante--but don’t quote me on this--who wrote some chapters on toilet paper and sent them in to his publisher.

Part of me wants to write chapters on toilet paper and mail them in that way to the publisher, because I’m not sure anyone in the world is more inept and out of sync with the whole social media thing than I am. 

But another part of me wouldn’t want to live in that time, either, because I’ve come to realize that I can’t really write longhand anymore, like with a pen and paper. My hand actually begins to cramp up. So in the end, whether I want to be or not, I am a child of the future. So I guess it’s best to just accept that.

Wow, I can relate to all your statements. I'd have liked more time to really be an author. And my handwriting is so bad that no one--not even me--can read it. 



Excerpt from: Day for Night

The world came to an end on a balmy Tuesday evening while I was doing laundry in my Glendale apartment building. Not on a Monday so I could start off the week fresh with the apocalypse, knowing just where I stood. Or a Friday so I could say, “Thank God, it’s the weekend. I need to de-stress from the End of Days.” It was a Tuesday. Four weeks to the day that I had been voted off one of the most popular reality shows running: Muscle Beach Midlife: Sand in your Face. I guess it didn’t matter that Muscle Midlife had no voting. Details, schmetails. They did it anyway, and it made for good TV. If ratings were sharks, I was the bloody, mashed-up chum.

I was multitasking. For me, this involved doing laundry while I mused about regret. What better time to muse on the nature of regret than when the world was about to end? Of course, I had no idea such was the case as I made my way deeper into Single White Female territory—my building’s dank basement—gripping my basket tight and my rage tighter. I shouldn’t even be here. Forced out of escrow on my dream condo in Hermosa Beach, bad timing left me scrambling, and I’d ended up here, surrounded by elderly Armenian gentlemen who seemed to disapprove of women wearing pants. Parents? They lived out of state. Sister Margarite? Not an option in this life or the next. You found out fast who your real friends were when you got kicked off a TV show. When anything went wrong in this town, Los Angeles, especially if even remotely connected to The Biz, you’d blink twice and find yourself in the middle of a boiling, empty desert with nothing but the cacti and a lizard doing pushups on a rock. Two handfuls of “friends” condensed overnight down to just Hama and Rex.

So, back to regret, back to the end of the world. An overall discontent, kick-started by Sand in your Face, had bogarted its way past the borders, routed the castle walls. The castle being the state of denial I lived in, discontent being reality. It was funny that I was thinking of reality as I neared the laundry room, basket on my hip, because I was expecting a certain series of circumstances ahead of me. I was expecting the machines to all be occupied, except for one, which wouldn’t be enough to accommodate my load. I was expecting the light bulb to be stuttering in its usual migraine-inducing pattern. Even before I arrived, I could hear them all busily humming. All the machines, all being used. The one poster on the wall would be there, Truffaut’s Day for Night, dusty, the plastic cover cracked in one corner. I even expected my right shoulder to jackknife with pain when I hitched the basket up on my hip. It was injured almost a year ago after a failed Pap smear attempt. 


What I wasn’t expecting was to turn the corner and find my thirty-something neighbor Annie, eyes open, silent, encased by a cone of light and suspended in midair just inside the doorway. Nope. Wasn’t expecting that at all. Floating beside her was the small, big-headed creature I’d seen a million times on TV and in the movies, so hilariously clichéd that I laughed out loud. There were some young filmmakers in the building. It must be an experiment, a joke. But then the creature turned, and it just wasn’t funny anymore.

Thanks for sharing, Stacey. I remember the phrase 'beautiful downtown Burbank!"
Good luck with the series! Where can readers find you?

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Website

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Stacey was raised in the San Fernando Valley but born in San Francisco, where she left part of her heart. She has worked on a dude ranch, coached gymnastics, and captions for the hearing impaired. Her work has appeared in several literary magazines in New York and L.A., including Ginosko and The Rag. She is currently working on the sequel to her novel Day for Night. She lives in “beautiful downtown Burbank,” as Johnny Carson used to say, with her husband who is also a writer.