Review
Fans of the Sci-Fi genre will absolutely love this fantastic tale --
Love RomancesIf you don't buy another book this month, don't miss THE HUNTRESS. --
Timeless TalesIt's a rip roaring good adventure/romance novel to be savored. --
WEN OnlineTerrific sci-fi! Very highly recommended --
Cindy Penn, Midwest Book ReviewThis is a very enjoyable, fast-paced, and exciting read, in a style that promises even better for the future. --
The Word On Romance
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
"What a shithole," Mea muttered under her breath, looking around the bar in disgust. She'd seen worse, but not by much. Half of the place had fallen into rubble and the other half wasn't far behind. Someone had thought to brace the ceiling with large metal beams, but that didn't lend much ambiance to the place. The lighting was dim at best and most of it was concentrated over the bar, leaving the rest in sullen shadow. Mea thought that was a blessing--she'd rather not know what was in the corners, cracks, and crevices, let alone what she was standing on at that moment.
Outside of the bar, the rest of the moonbase was not in any better shape. The atmosphere dome was so dingy, the stars couldn't be seen through it, and the settlement within it was little more than a ghetto. Hunting in this little piece of space was like wading through garbage.
"Best place to find shit." Warren's voice sounded tiny, but cheerful over the transceiver in her ear. She hummed in agreement as one man staggered from the bar to vomit on one of the steel beams, then meandered back to his seat. No one moved to clean it up--no one even noticed. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as the smell drifted over, but it was just the freshest of the variety of putrid odors in the place.
"Charming," she sighed and shook an arm out of her cloak, tapping the tracer on her wrist. It lit up like a nova when she turned it to the bar. "Target acquired," she murmured tonelessly.
"Acknowledged."
Having come in the back door following the man's genetic trace, she had yet to be noticed by the patrons. A few stragglers were dispersed in the rubble and a couple of people were in booths, but most were huddled at the bar. She made a quick headcount and moved like a living shadow to stand next to a beam in the cover of darkness. There were about twenty men hunched desperately over their alcohol and her target was dead center. As she considered how best to extract her target from the group, the front entrance slid open.
She looked--and then did a double take. At first glance, the man who stepped into the bar wasn't out of place. Hair buzzed almost to the skin like most spacers and face pale from lack of UV, he was of average height and well muscled, but he was wearing shaded goggles. This particular outpost was on the darkside of a moon and lighting in the dome of the outpost was dim at best. There was no reason for shades. Plus, his muscles moved over his bones with a powerful menace that kept her eyes trained on him, hunter's instincts tingling...