Zerconian Warriors Book 12
by Sadie Carter
Genre: SciFi Romance 222 pages
Sometimes it’s a very fine line between love and hate.
Humans were inferior and troublesome creatures, and unlike his fellow warriors, Moroco had no intention of ever mating one.
Trust a female again? Never. Not when he knew how easily they could betray you.
So why did he care so much about a certain prickly, irritating female who seemed to take great delight in rousing his temper?
And his need.
Saffron hadn’t come to Zerconia to find a mate among these overbearing, overprotective aliens. All she cared about was keeping her sister safe, and now that Sophie had found her mate, well, it was probably time to leave.
Except, she couldn’t leave without seeing Moroco once more.
If only to tell him exactly what she thought of him. Only problem was she didn’t know whether she was going to tell him that she disliked him…
Or desired him.
He frowned as he saw the way she pulled at that undergarment thing she wore. The one that covered her breasts from him.
“Is there something wrong with your breasts?”
She stilled, looking at him in shock. “No, they’re fine.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Fine, my bra is just chafing a bit. But then what isn’t?”
“Take your top off.”
“Um, Moroco, listen, I’m sure you’re feeling horny too, but now really isn’t the time to get down and dirty. Because you know, I’mactuallydirty. And I smell. And I’m chafing in places I don’t want to think about. Now I know why all women seem to want a thigh gap—it’s to stop the chafing when they walk too much. Ouch.”
He stared down at the dirt. “Why would anyone wish to get down and dirty?”
A blush filled her cheeks, surprising him. The only time she ever grew embarrassed was when they were talking about joining. “You thought I wished to join with you?”
“You needn’t look so horrified,” she muttered. She wrapped her arms around herself, giving him a defensive look. “I get that I’m not looking my best but you’re the one who is under the delusion we’re mates. Isn’t that what mates do?”
“We are mates. There is no delusion.” He gripped her chin, holding it firmly but not so tightly that he risked hurting her. “And were you not injured and exhausted then I would be only too eager to join with you. But for the moment my main priority is your health. That comes before all else.”
Including his aching shaft.
“Because you’re a healer.”
“Because you are mine,” he told her fiercely.
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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Hi , I’m Sadie and I have a passion for pajamas. Yep. I love pajamas. I have unicorn ones, flamingo ones, pretty floral ones, and I even have pajamas with Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer on them (which considering I live in New Zealand and at Christmas time it’s summer, makes wearing pajamas quite a warm experience).
But can you blame me? Aren’t pajamas the comfiest thing ever? I don’t wear them out of the house (well, other than to the rubbish bin and back) that’s a no-no, although not saying if there wasn’t a national pajama day that I wouldn’t be behind it. Not sure I’d want to see our Prime Minister in her pjs, though. But some of those All Blacks…hmm…especially if they just wear pajama bottoms. *fans herself*
Does anyone else have a passion like mine (or not)? I have others…shoes…champagne (not that I can afford to indulge that one)…reading (of course)… sexy alpha aliens…the list goes on.
Too bad I’m not passionate about something sensible, right? Like exercise or apples or broccoli.
Pet peeves. We all have them, right? Probably more than one if we’re honest. So what’s your pet peeve? I have several but I won’t go into all of them. I might wear out my welcome. My biggest pet peeve is someone putting rubbish into an already full bin instead of emptying it. Anyone else live in a household where this happens?
Oh, and another good one is putting empty containers back in the cupboard or fridge. I really don’t get it. How can you not notice that you have eaten everything in the container?
I don’t even have teenagers…just one very messy husband!
Things are bad when your 3-year-old is tidier than your husband.
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!
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