A living weapon. An attack on the laws of reality. One chance to save the world.
Michael Bishop is a man who never dreams, who never gets ill. He lives his entire life oblivious to the truths hidden from him.
He is a tool in the hand of the most powerful organization on Earth.
Michael’s world transforms when They bring him online- when They activate the mysterious technology buried within his skull.
Then, the lies fall away. He becomes Asset 108. Using intricate technology, he defends humanity from the gibbering, tentacled horrors that haunt our world.
When mysterious renegades fracture the very laws of nature, Asset 108 is put into position. As the world begins to unravel, a cabal of madmen with physics shattering powers hunt 108 and his cadre, driving them into an alternate reality— a realm filled with inhuman horror.
Between otherworldly arachnids, muscled brutes infected with psionic parasites, and depraved cultists, grisly deaths lurk behind Michael’s every choice.
I slunk to the side of one of the creatures, determined to be slow and cautious. The emitter might not mask sound in this bizarre place.
I count six remaining, Michael, Anya informed me.
Five. I slipped up behind one, the kinetic disruptor centimeters from its skull. I fired, sending a sharp siiiiuu sound keening through the cavern.
Less than a second later, bits of brain and skull sprayed over one of its fellows, who roared in uncomprehending terror.
As the corpse fell, I saw the tendrils writhe within the body, madly squirming beneath the flesh.
That aside, there’s something else here… something inside them. The link conveyed my revulsion.
Copy that, Bishop. Awe and disgust filled Wyatt’s link. I can see it in one over here. It’s like thick cables running through them, just below their skin. It’s— He broke off, and I felt him retch. It’s… it’s moving! Wriggling.
Assets. Anya’s crisp link came across almost curt. These aberrations may be host bodies for some type of phage. I felt her deliberately maintain calm as she linked. Many Irrational species seek host bodies and—
And they can go straight to hell. Wyatt recoiled at the thought. You mean like a parasite?
Exactly like that. My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched coils of tendril writhe within one of the corpses. Of all the fates that could befall an Asset, forced to be a host body for such unearthly horrors seemed like one of the more horrifying.
I felt quite vulnerable.
As quietly as possible, I stepped behind one of the other behemoths and aimed both pistols at the back of its head. I didn’t know if it would stop the parasite…
I shrugged. Couldn’t hurt.
The weapons sang, siiiiuu siiiiuu.
The monstrosity’s skull cracked. It jerked twice from the force, then collapsed against the dark stone ground.
Bishop…I felt the warning in Wyatt’s link. We got four left, but they’re all over there with you.
Copy that. Now might be the time to grab your gear.
Yup. He flung the door open and ducked behind the far side of the Legacy. The movement caught the attention of one of the behemoths, which started to turn in his direction.
Nope. I took two quick steps to my right, aiming for that particular brute. Several more stood between us, and I couldn’t get a square shot.
The beast cocked his head to see if something lurked on the far side of the car.
“Hey!” I cried, knowing none of them could see where I stood. “Let’s look over here instead!”
I shot another of the creatures with my left-hand Stiletto and hit it squarely in the chest.
The blow hurled the troll-thing back over six meters where it crashed into one of the stone columns.
The remaining four roared their outrage. One of them, the smallest of the lot, stared around wildly before running off into the shadows.
They’ll hear me the moment I shoot ol’ Rosie. Wyatt opened the trunk and pulled out his gear. I can crouch over here and get suited up. But the moment I fire ’er, I’m caught.
I get it. I started to jog away from the remaining three creatures. This should be easy. Our friends here aren’t very bright. I can handle them all here in just a moment anyway.
Seems like it, Wyatt linked. As easily as you put these guys down, I might as well wait before drawing attention to myself. I’ll set the spikes when you’re finished.
I’ll get them all over here, for a start. I powered the Wraith down where I stood, a good six meters from the nearest aberration.
Um, that’s stupid, Wyatt opined.
The moment I faded into sight, the closest one snarled at me.
“Hey there, tubby.” I fired once at the ground between us, leaving a hole nearly a meter across. “Look, I’m right here. All soft and pink and small.” I grinned at it.
It roared and charged me.
I hadn’t taken into account how fast the muscled creatures might be, due to their lumbering stride and immense size. But a charging gorilla can move scarily fast, as can a stampeding bison.
This thing put those two to shame.
It cleared the six meters in what felt like a step. Like the hammer of an angry god, it swung its maul-like fist down on me.
JM Guillen was your average, everyday awesome writer just trying to make it in this modern, awful corporate dystopia. He knew he wanted to make wonderful, bizarre things, but how could he afford to make that happen? Every day, he sat about crying and drinking, trying to figure out what he could do.
THEN A RADIOACTIVE METEOR CRASHED INTO HIS BACKYARD! FROM OUTER SPACE!
While examining the fuming interstellar rock, unknowable emanations radiated into the very center of his being. These unearthly energies changed the very depths of him, granting him powers that no man can name, and no god could ever master.
Reeling from the influx of spectral energies, he stumbled back into his home, his eyes open. Now, an entire universe unfolded before him. Now, he saw the way.
HE STARTED HIS OWN EVIL PUBLISHING COMPANY!
Now, JM Guillen begins to meet AWESOME people who supported his INSANE plans. Fiendishly, he scrawls story after story, writing steampunk, dark fantasy and eldritch horror…
Exes working together in a wedding business? What could go wrong?
EVIE Having inappropriate dreams about my ex-husband is problematic. The fact that he’s applied to be the business partner in my wedding business – and is an infuriatingly savvy businessman – is even more so.
Our marriage ended because we were both more married to our jobs than each other, but now I can barely look at Lincoln without imagining him naked. How the hell am I supposed to work with him?
LINCOLN My ex-wife, Evie – aka Evil (thank you, random autocorrect) – runs the most successful bridal shop in the whole of the Finger Lakes region and she needs a business partner. Happy coincidence because I need a steady income. ASAP.
I also need to stop noticing Evie’s curves. And her smile. And everything about her that makes me want a second chance.
“I think you’re blowing it out of proportion,” Gage says as he dips another fry in ketchup. “You were married to the woman. Naturally you’re going to be affected by her.”
“I was married to her. Was being the key word. We’ve been divorced for four years and I haven’t exactly lived the life of a monk.” I shake my head at my brother across the wide wooden table. “This felt different.”
“Look, it’s not like you jumped her from across the desk or anything, so I don’t know what you’re worried about.” Gage’s been saying some version of this since I brought up my unexpected reaction to Evie earlier. Our waitress at Donnelly’s had already brought us a beer and I thought hiding behind a pint would make it easier for me to pretend it was no big deal. Turns out I’m terrible at pretending, and Gage can see through me like I’m a plastic shower curtain in a girl’s dorm. “Besides, you’re the one who keeps saying this is business, it’s not personal. Just make sure to keep it professional.”
“You’re right.” It’s easier said than done, because between Evie’s sex dream and my inconvenient hard-on, it feels very personal. “I need to keep my eye on the prize.”
“Get involved with her again at your peril,” says Gage, taking another French fry. “We’ve called her Evil for a reason.”
“I called her Evil because of a random autocorrect.” A random autocorrect turned into bad joke my and brothers ran with it.
“Hey, if the shoe fits…” Gage shrugs.
“I was bitter and angry she didn’t fight for us, but neither did I.” I take a swallow of my beer then drop my voice as I say, “It was self-preservation on both of our parts.”
“The old, ‘it’s not me, it’s you’ scenario?” Gage puts his elbow on the wooden table. His hair is too long and flopping over his eyes, but he just blows it out of the way and says, “Look, man, if you don’t think you can do this, we’ll come up with something else. Evil’s not the only way we’re going to be able to pay Dad’s medical bills.”
“Isn’t she? What else do you suggest? I guess we could take turns selling plasma, but I don’t know what the requirements are for selling bodily fluids. I’ll have to check.”
“I can talk to my boss at work and see if I can pick up some extra shifts. Maybe it’s time to give up the farmer’s market for a little while? Cake a Diem can wait.” Gage shrugs like saying those words doesn’t make him die a little inside. His job as a produce manager at Wegman’s, the local supermarket, is great, but it’s as far from his dream job as you can get. The only reason he’s kept the job as long as he has is for the store discount so he can buy baking supplies. I convinced him to create a name for his business, complete with a banner and business cards, and judging by the amount of time he spent picking the perfect font for his banner, he’s way more into it than his day job.
“You just started Cake a Diem. You can’t throw in the towel on it before you’ve gotten the name out there.” I shake my head. “I’m the one who’s unemployed. If anyone’s going to take one for the team, it’s going to be me.”
“So, what? You’re going to get back on a plane and live out of a suitcase again?” Gage finishes the last fry with a flourish. “Maybe finding another consulting gig is viable as a short-term solution, but what about when Dad’s able to get out a little bit? The first thing he’s going to want to do is go fishing and someone’s going to have to go with him. Let’s face it, it really needs to be you.”
Gage and I both laugh. Our father is an avid fisherman and, try as he might to get his sons to enjoy his hobby, we all hate it. I just happen to hate it less than Eli and Gage do. “Bennett’s Bridal it is then,” I say. “I’ll make it work.”
Brenda writes contemporary romance to make you giggle and swoon. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking, running and
Brenda is a USA Today bestselling author living in the English countryside. Originally from New York, she’s lived in the UK long enough to gain dual citizenship, but still doesn’t understand Celsius. However, she has learned the appropriate use of the word “pants”. And how to order a proper bacon bap/barm/buttie. Because, well, bacon.
Brenda writes contemporary romance to make you giggle and swoon. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking, running and reading. In theory, she also enjoys cooking, but it’s more that she enjoys eating and, try as she might, she can’t live on Doritos alone.
Title: Ice Floe Author: Melissa Birling Series: Ice Floe Series #1 Genre: Young Adult Fantasy Romance
SECRECY IS SAFETY. SISTERHOOD IS EVERYTHING.
Seventeen-year-old Glacia didn’t plan to track a kidnapper, stick a middle finger to the government, and fall into a forbidden summer fling. This is simply what happens when you’re the resident odd girl out, in a shoal of all-female mermaids whose values are a little cracked. Or a lot cracked, if you consider government-endorsed murder and the seizure of male infants to be an issue.
When society rules, family, and romance collide, Glacia fights back the best way she knows how: by taking the matter into her own combat-trained hands and kicking some tail. The problem is, no amount of training can prepare Glacia for the crime circle she discovers, secrets she unveils, and human guy she can’t get out of her head. Glacia finds herself at a crossroads where she must decide whose rules to follow. Who she can trust. And ultimately…who lives and who dies.
Melissa Birling strives to experience life from a “both and” rather than “either or” perspective. She enjoys living in metropolitan cities and on a small farm. She appreciates burn-your-tongue Mexican cuisine and delicious London pub food. Lately, Melissa spends her time engaging with cyber security professionals and mermaids. Not actual mermaids, although if you know any, she’d love to meet them.
The revelation that one can be both a successful corporate consultant and a fantasy author who writes about mermaids, encouraged Melissa to finish her debut novel, Ice Floe. The emotional high of typing “The End” at the completion of her first draft, triggered a writing spree that hasn’t stopped since. On any given Saturday or Sunday, you will find Melissa writing. She won’t respond to any attempts at human engagement, because she’s “at a good part,” but you’ll find her typing away, nevertheless.
Melissa lives with a ceaselessly supportive husband and their dog who enjoys hunting neighborhood skunks.
