QSFer Sandra C. Stixrude has a new sci fi book out:
When things begin to go wrong, they have a habit of going spectacularly wrong, Lord Telluris Marat discovers. Robbed of his visions and his ability to prophesy, he still has his will to fight and his ability to command an army. But the enemy he faces now commands weapons that rival his worst nightmares.
Emily struggles with her own visions, and finds herself caught between worlds. Jake Montagna, the president of the interplanetary mining company, has gone off the deep end and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. If only they were in broadcast range of the authorities, Emily could do something. But Arhanna is far out of normal shipping lanes. To stop Jake, she’ll have to do it herself.
Book Seven of the Anchorage Series (conclusion)
Diamas pulled fretfully at the high collar of the formal shirt Rustle had insisted he wear. It was too stiff and too tight, but the dark green, heavily embroidered silk was the only good shirt he owned since he spent most of his life in uniform. Of course, they were officially off duty, so they had to be out of uniform, and as Rustle pointed out, one couldn’t wear patched and threadbare travel clothes to court.
“Stop fidgeting,” Rustle hissed up at him. “We’re supposed to look like we belong here. Concentrate on looking comfortable and relaxed.”
“Easy for you,” Diamas grumbled as he wandered over to the nearest bench to throw himself down. “Of course you’re comfortable. Your clothes fit.”
Rus did look good. The sky-blue shirt he wore was the perfect shade for him, and where he’d managed to find boots to match and a ribbon of exactly the same hue to tie back his hair, he couldn’t imagine.
“You could’ve at least let me bring my axe.” Diamas sulked. He was tired and out of sorts; for once, he would have preferred to stay in bed.
“I’m sorry, my heart,” Rustle said. “But we’re supposed to be inconspicuous. It’s hard enough to hide you in a crowd, but strap an axe to your back—even your pretty new one—and it would be impossible.”
Diamas snorted and pulled at his collar again, so Rustle undid the top hook fastening. “There now, is that better? We truly need to have this altered, you know. When I had this shirt made for you, you were just recovering from those horrible wounds at the end of the war. You were nothing but skin and bones then.” He patted Diamas’s broad chest. “How was I to know you’d fill out so nicely?”
Diamas rolled his eyes at the transparent use of flattery. “This better be worth it. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I feel half-naked—”
“And you happen to be the best-looking man here,” Rustle interrupted him cheerfully.
“Stop it, Rus.”
“Hmm? Stop what?” The little blond’s eyes were wide and innocent.
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We’ll be honest here – Sandra is the other half of Angel Martinez’s rather odd brain. She writes the mainstream Science Fiction while Angel writes the steamy stuff.
A native Delawarean, Sandra has written science fiction for nearly twenty years, with her first story published in 2006. She concentrates on writing distant-planet science fiction liberally spiced with culture clashes and tilted social norms, suitable for any reader old enough to reach the starship controls.
She has one son, one husband, and two cats, graduated from the local university with a degree in English Lit, and worked at various and sundry jobs while writing. She recently reached the point where she can write full time and is overjoyed at being able to concentrate on imaginary things.
For more information on Sandra’s books, please visit her website:
Sandra Stixrude – Distant Worlds, Alien Minds
Email: [email protected]