Friday, June 15, 2018

Loc Glin ~ presents ~ Mission Almost Impossible

Published By: Luminosity Publishing
ISBN # 9781910899083
Word Count: 13,206
Heat Index 4 Flames
Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Epub, Mobipocket (.mobi)

The odds are against him, but Jerin will find a way! With or without the gene Kaley will be his…

On Setera, only one in four hundred thousand is born possessing the cryan gene—a gene essential to the survival of the Seteran race. Jerin and the others like him are duty bound to find the match to that gene somewhere in the universe, for it can no longer be found on Setera. With no clear instructions on how this task is to be accomplished it is a daunting undertaking, like finding a needle in a haystack.

Jerin’s assigned quadrant is Earth. After twelve years of searching he is beginning to lose hope, until the answer hits him over the head with a frying pan. Now all he has to do is convince this beautiful, feisty woman to follow him to another universe in a galaxy far far away.

“Maybe we ought to call for a doctor,” the policeman said. “How long has he been like that?”

“Since I called you.”

“You say he broke into the premises?”


“There is no sign of forced entry that I can see.” He moved his head around perusing the area one more time. “And there is luggage in the foyer.”

Kaley nibbled her bottom lip. “I noticed.”

“You gave him a good whack.”

“Well, he’s big, and I was afraid.”

The conversation barely registered in Jerin’s head. He felt like he was dying, or maybe he just wished he was dead. His head was pounding. He tried to open his eyes, which made the room spin. He moaned and closed them tightly again. He heard a female gasp.

“He’s coming to!” She sounded panicked and yet relieved.

“So he is. Now, we can get to the bottom of this.”

He felt someone kneel down beside him. “You okay, mate?”

Jerin raised his arm and began to examine his head. “What happened?” He winced as he found a bump and gingerly touched the small mound. “Damn, that hurts.” He opened his eyes to see a constable kneeling beside him.

“What’s your business here? The lady says you broke into this residence.”

“I did nothing of the kind. The Sherwood’s hired me to take care of their property while they are on holiday. The house is supposed to be empty.” He felt his forehead crinkle in response to the discomfort speaking caused.

“That is true. Martin Sherwood notified the department that they would be away. I don’t recall them mentioning a house sitter.”

“My credentials are in my bags.”

He managed to sit up. The room began to spin. He put his palm on the floor to steady his swaying torso.

“Do you want to see a doctor?”

“No. I’ll be fine in a moment. Who hit me?”

Jerin followed the constable’s line of vision as it dialed in on the answer to his question.

“That would be me.”

Maybe it was the bump on the head, but the woman pretty much glowed. He felt euphoric until his stomach turned in on itself, and he had to fight the urge to puke.

“What did you hit me with?”

She looked like a warrior goddess standing above him on the landing leading into the living room. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back severely from her face. The long wavy strands flowed freely from the hairpiece gathering the locks together at the crown of her head. She wore a deep purple, tight fitting, one-piece Lycra bodysuit and was barefooted. Eyes the color of dark emeralds flashed a moment of defiance, and then took on a softer more apologetic light.

“That.” She pointed to his left.

He didn’t want to take his eyes from her, but his curiosity got the better of him. Cautiously he turned his head.

“That would explain it.” He smiled. “So, my warrior goddess’s weapon of choice is a frying pan?”

“Your what?” she stammered and then continued, “And no, a frying pan is not my weapon of choice. It was all I could find.”

The timbre of her voice lured his attention back to her. She sounded more insolent than contrite. Something about her spirit made him forget the throbbing in his head. He stood and chuckled. “Then, what is your weapon of choice?”

She sputtered.

“I don’t have a weapon of choice! Do you think I’m a bloody bloodthirsty gang member or something?”

“You tell me. I’m the one with the concussion.”

“I don’t think you have a concussion. You look fine to me.”

Her eyes roved over him. It felt as if she’d caressed his entire being. His body reacted as if she had. The crotch of his jeans became quite uncomfortable. His body had never reacted to a woman this way before. There was something about her that begged him to goad her into outlandish behavior.

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