Hey bloggies – let’s
give a warm welcome to my fellow author at Total-E-Bound Publishing, A.B. Gayle, here today
to celebrate her new release with them, “Isolation”. First off, I want to say that this cover is
GORGEOUS. But I always love the covers at TEB – they have such amazing artists. A.B. has a very unique
erotic romance with the Sci-fi story “Isolation”, and I encourage you to check
out what she has to say. There’s also a GIVEAWAY, so be sure and read the
details on how to enter.
Thanks so much,
Morticia, for inviting me to chat about something that makes my newly released
sci-fi romance, “Isolation” a little bit different.
Heroes of romance
stories are expected to be tall, strong and handsome, right? But I’m hoping
readers will - like the heroine, Dana Sinclair - fall a little bit in love with
Ethan O’Reilly who, for various reasons does not meet these high standards.
Dana turned at the sound of the lilting Irish
voice behind her. She was tall, but she still found herself staring at the
man’s chest, and what a chest it was. The only problem was that it was covered
by an army uniform. Her gaze travelled upward, and her initial smile of welcome
faded as she caught sight of the scars that covered one side of the man’s face.
She couldn’t help herself, she winced in sympathy.
The smile vanished instantly.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to
do.”
Dana stepped back. There was a slight jerkiness
in his stride as he walked past. Shit. She should have recognised the man, but
he’d put on so much weight.
How had the mission’s PR blurb described him?
‘Retired from active service due to injuries incurred during the latest UN-Merc
war and now appointed second-in-command of the Saa’ar space mission, Lieutenant
Colonel Ethan O’Reilly is a certified war hero, renowned for his bravery and
courage. His participation in man’s first journey outside the solar system
gives the brave venture a virtual stamp of authenticity.’
Injuries… A simple word for having to have both
legs amputated below the knee after he stepped on a land mine. Yet, despite
this disability, somehow, his mere presence reassured the world that if he was
prepared to accept the alien’s invitation, it must be safe.
Later on, we discover
that five years before the story opens, Ethan was literally a poster boy as
Gabrielle Lagarde, the deputy to the Chief of Security explained to Dana when
she opened up her locker:
Inside was a famous UN recruiting poster. Photo
journalist, Simon Read, had won the2045 World Press Photo for a candid shot
he’d taken of a battle-hardened soldier leading his men along the road from
hell. In the background, black clouds pierced by flames hovered over the ruins
of squat, ugly concrete buildings and the blackened corpses of cars. In the
foreground stood a young Ethan O’Reilly. In those days his hair was jet black
and his tanned, flawless skin was split by a wolfish smile of triumph. Behind
him was the elite Ranger squad who’d accompanied him in the rescue of ten UN
aid workers from the destroyed prison complex. It wasn’t the first rescue
mission the squad had undertaken, nor the last. But it had been the one
captured on film.
“He was my idol. I joined the army because of
that poster. Look at him now. How could he let himself get like that?”
How indeed?
As Dana gets to know
Ethan and learns about his past, she realizes that his problem is not so much
his disability, but his inability to forgive himself for not living up to his
own high standards.
Being less than
perfect is very difficult in a world where there is so much pressure to live up
to ideals. Yet, so many people have a flaw or a disability of some form or
other. Those that do not let their disability define who they are or restrict
what they do are heroes to me in real life. People like the South African
double amputee runner, Oscar Pistorius and all the athletes that take part in
the Paralympics and other similar activities.
The disabled aspect of
“Isolation” was inspired by a friend of mine who lost half of his leg when a
truck collided with his motor bike. I met Frank through canoeing, and the sight
of him detaching his prosthetic limb, negotiating the tricky path to the water on
his crutches, stowing them in the back of his kayak before awkwardly manouvering
himself into his seat and then reversing the process after the race is
inspiring.
To me, though, the
best part is how his fellow competitors just take it all in their stride. They
help him when it’s needed and don’t when it’s not. His disability doesn’t
define who he is and how they treat him. This is how it should be.
Life isn’t easy for
Frank. His prosthetic doesn’t fit him as well now and they’re very expensive to
replace, but he refuses to let that stop him from being as active as possible.
He cycles, kayaks and has a thriving business as a photographer. He laughs off
his injury as a “flesh wound” compared to some of the disabilities he’s seen.
“Isolation” doesn’t
dwell on the fact that Ethan is disabled. However, his emotional journey in
coming to terms with the fact he is no longer the poster boy he oncewas is an
integral part of the story. In the book, a character quotes Kurt Hahn’s advice:
“Your disability is your opportunity.” Dana accepts him for who he is now. The
question Ethan has to answer is: Can he?
I’m giving away an
ebook copy of my novel. All you have to do is leave a comment (with your contact info) on the blog
before 21st March, and Morticia will choose a lucky winner.
If you don’t win the
free version, you can always buy a copy here:
Thanks A.B. Gayle for joining
me here today – I can’t wait to read this inspiring and sexy story. I might be
falling for Ethan already ;-)
And to read a sexy
excerpt from “Illusion”, see below. Don't forget to comment (with contact info) to get your very own FREE copy!
HOT EXCERPT:
Copyright © A.B.Gayle,
2012
All Rights Reserved,
Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.
Ethan groaned and
rubbed his fingers across his temples, trying to reduce the throbbing inside.
What godforsaken hole am I in now?
A quick scan of his
room didn’t help. Bed, desk, chair, cupboard, small bathroom. He’d spent half
his life sleeping in quarters like these. Bog standard demountable army room,
the same in every fuckin’ UN base on Earth.
He groaned again.
He wasn’t on Earth.
He wasn’t even on a
planet that resembled Earth. Instead, he was stranded on a freakin’ space
station. The familiar surroundings always confused him.
It was the
Commandant’s fault. Before all the personnel were woken from their coma-like
sleep, she had inspected the section that the Saa’ar had cleared out for their
use. When she’d discovered how primitive and bare it was, she’d ordered Ethan
and Tinker and his small team of engineers to temporarily transform the empty
void with the flatpacks and wall linings that they’d brought for their new
colony. She claimed it would prevent the personnel from becoming homesick while
they waited for the Saa’ar to return. From what he could gather, the ship that
had brought them from Earth was just a shuttle, but their big starship was more
like an ore tanker and not equipped to take ‘beings of their size’ on the
inter-stellar jump, so another vessel, more suited to their needs, was coming
to get them. Or, at least, that’s how she explained it.
Personally, he’d have
preferred leaving the dark alien walls with their patterns and symbols
uncovered. That way he wouldn’t wake up every morning and wonder where the
bloody hell he was, especially after having too much to drink the night before.
Ethan groaned and
rubbed his head again. Boy, although it tasted vile that Skootch sure packed a
punch. Carefully, he stretched all the kinks out of his body. Reality flooded
through his brain like it did every time he awoke nowadays. These standard-sized
beds used to cause him grief because his legs jutted out way past the end of
them. Stepping on the land mine sure fixed that. How fuckin’ ironic.
Ethan closed his eyes
and idly stroked his morning woodie. Unfortunately, ever since the explosion,
sex had become a distant memory. Pity, because given the chance, his cock still
performed perfectly. He spat on his hand and resumed rubbing. It seemed like
years since he’d been able to bury his shaft into some tight, wet pussy. Even
an amateurish blow job would make a welcome break from Mrs. Palm and her five
daughters. He shouldn’t be griping, though. At least he still had his hands.
Not being able to give himself relief would have been a fate worse than death.
Though, come to think of it, maybe death would have been a better alternative.
It was only when under the influence of the grog or at least lost in lustful
fantasies that he managed to push the memories away.
His hand stilled for a
moment as screams from the past intruded…his screams. In a way, the fact that
his mates never knew the missile was coming was of some small consolation.
Taking a deep breath,
he replaced that nightmarish vision with one of a room full of naked women,
screaming with pleasure at the sight of him. Ah, that’s better. Now which one
should I pick? The slim blonde beckoning him to join her on the satin covered
bed? Judging by the pale curls covering her pussy, the colour didn’t come out
of a bottle. Yep. Blondes were definitely more fun, but this one reminded him
too much of his ex-wife. Fashionably thin. Tanned skin like leather. He
preferred women with curves in all the right places.
Shoving that image out
of his brain, Ethan replaced it with a wide-eyed brunette who was gazing up at
him with adoring eyes as she sucked on his cock. He wet his hand again, trying
to kid himself that the moisture was coming from her mouth. The girl gagged
slightly as she tried to swallowed him all the way down, giving him an
apologetic grin before going back to her task. Nah, she’s too young. He liked
his women more mature. Ones that knew what they were doing.
Over in the corner,
another naked woman posed provocatively, leaning over the edge of a nicely
padded sofa, showing off the soft, pale skin of her delicious arse. Now, she’s
just begging to be fucked! When his fantasy female realised she’d captured his
attention, she cupped her boobs in her hands and gave him a smoochy air kiss.
Ethan groaned and increased the speed of his masturbation. As he did, the image
wavered slightly, the blonde tresses turning russet red and her features
morphing into those of the uptight, snooty Doctor Sinclair. Where the fuck did
that come from?
Ethan snorted and
forced the unlikely scenario away, concentrating instead on the way the woman’s
breasts spilled over her slim hands. His own were itching to take their place.
The speed of his rubbing increased, and all the different strands of tension
that had been bugging him for weeks transformed into rivers of blood that
funnelled into his cock. Boy, was he hard! Fucking someone as hot as that
doggie-style woman had to be his ultimate fantasy. Maybe she was the one he’d
choose. The slick wetness of his cock couldn’t wait to delve into that tight c—
An ear-piercing
screech rang out, driving the images away. Damn. Ethan lifted his head and
reached across to shut off the alarm.
Big mistake. The walls
threatened to collapse in on him as the room spun crazily.
With a groan, he
collapsed back onto his bunk, both hands pressed against the sudden pain in his
stomach. Shit, Abu said I was drinking too much!
The softly voiced
warning rang in his head again, ‘You’re getting a stomach ulcer, Ethan, and
your liver has been compromised. If you don’t stop drinking, you won’t live to
see forty.’ Except it wasn’t Ethan who had died, but Abu.
The rivers of blood
halted as if they were snap frozen—in this case, chilled by memories of a more
recent tragedy. All had been going well until most of the aliens headed off in
the shuttle to join their starship, leaving only a few to look after them until
the replacement ship arrived. Shortly afterwards, the remaining aliens started
dying and nothing Abu or his team had been able to save them.
Then Abu had died.
All the MedPath
personnel who had been looking after the aliens were immediately isolated in strict
quarantine and the rest of the contingent had been ordered to stay in their
quarters as much as possible. Now all they could do was wait until Dana
Sinclair determined if Abu had caught one of the aliens’ diseases. If so, all
their lives might be at risk.
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