Tuesday, June 12, 2018

RELEASE DAY: NOT FADE AWAY!


The wait is finally over! You can officially order your copy of Not Fade Away, Interstellar Rescue Series Book 4 from Amazon TODAY in both Kindle and paperback versions!

Here’s a little taste from early in this story of the challenge “retired” Rescue agent Rafe Gordon faces when he must hide his legendary father Del from alien assassins—in the last place anyone would look, a small town on Earth.

     Rafe stood awkwardly in the kitchen, trying to stay out of the way while Charlie put things on a tray for Del. He didn’t dare leave her to her thoughts about what Del had said about the psoros. But how to approach it? Damn it, he was no freaking diplomat.
     Just before she picked up the tray, Rafe put a hand on her forearm. “I, uh, I heard what Del said as I was coming in—about the things—whatever he calls ’em?” He wouldn’t reinforce the alien word in her mind; he hoped she’d forget it.
     “Yeah, what was that all about?”
     The bright, curious look she got on her face did something to him. The way she held her head slightly to one side, causing her hair to fall over one shoulder. That long, silky hair.
     Shalssit! Focus, asshole. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He gets like that. God knows where he gets half the stuff he says.”
     Her brows came together. “That’s what worries me, Rafe. The usual dementia patient doesn’t just make stuff up. Their delusions are based somewhere in their memories or experience. If he’s truly inventing creatures we’ve never seen before and making up names in his own languages for them, he might have been misdiagnosed.”
     Crap—now he’d opened up a leaky photon tube. Rafe fought to keep his voice level, his demeanor calm. He had to manage this before things got out of hand. Rayna had apparently gone out of her way to find the smartest—and sexiest—nurse on the damn planet.
     Rafe gave her his most disarming grin. “Or it could be all those crazy science fiction shows he used to watch on television. He’d still be watching every space adventure and mad scientist flick he could get his eyes on if I’d let him. I put a stop to it. Gives him ideas.”
     Her mouth opened to reply, then closed, and a blush crept up her neck to her cheeks. Her gaze met his for a moment longer than was strictly appropriate—the blue of her planet’s seas, roiled now with an emotion he didn’t quite understand. Maybe he should try smiling more often.
     “Um, okay, yes, maybe,” she said at last. She picked up the tray and took it out to the little round table between the kitchen and the open living room that served as their dining room. She set Del up there with his food and gave him his meds. Del took them from her without complaint and started in on the sandwich. At his side, the dog sat waiting for anything that might accidentally fall to the floor.
     Rafe’s anxiety dissolved. This was good, better than he could have hoped, and well worth dodging a few questions now and again. The Old Man was calm. Content. Rafe might even get used to the dog—eventually.
     If he could just stop thinking of Charlie that way, things would be perfect.
     He sighed and turned back to the kitchen to make himself some food. But what he found on the counter was not entirely recognizable, even if it had come out of his own refrigerator. The advance team had done the provisioning, and beyond cooking up some eggs this morning he hadn’t examined what was to be had.
     “Need help?” Charlie smiled at him, as if she saw his confusion.
     She was standing too close, putting his body at war with his pride. “I, uh, I don’t spend much time in a kitchen.” He could only hope what was generally true of men in his rough-and-tumble universe was also true of men on Earth. Though he suspected most of them could probably accomplish lunch.
     Her eyebrows shot up. “Um, okay. Why don’t you keep your dad company while I make you a sandwich? Mind if I join you?”
     “What? Oh, sure, help yourself.” It hadn’t occurred to him that she might be hungry. Though her dog was certainly making it clear he was eager for a taste of the Old Man’s lunch.
     Charlie noticed, too. “Happy! Quit begging. Lie down.”
     The dog huffed and lay down. He put his head on his paws and pretended to take no more interest in the human proceedings.
     Rafe smiled. “You spoiled his fun.”
     “He’d eat constantly if I let him.”
     “You seem . . . attached.” The relationship was a mystery. He’d seen people who were fond of their pet cats (or ships, or home planets), but he’d never understood it. It seemed like a waste of emotional energy to him, and he had none to spare.
     “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Her voice had dropped; he had to lean in to hear her. “He’s a rescue dog—got him from the pound down in Masey—but I always say he’s the one that rescued me.” She lifted her chin and smiled. “And you see how he is with people like your dad. They all love him, and he loves them back. He makes my work so much easier.”
     He caught the attempt to divert him. “He rescued you? From what?”
     She let go a breath. “Huh. Well, that’s a long story for another time.” She handed him a plate with two “sandwiches”—meat and vegetables between two slices of bread, with two kinds of sauce on it, one white, one yellow. He realized again how hungry he was.
     “Thank you.” He met her gaze. “For everything. I guess you’ve decided to take the job.”
     She glanced at the table, where Del was feeding the last of his sandwich meat to the dog, and laughed. “Yes. I don’t think Happy would allow me to say no.”


Cheers, Donna

1 comment:

  1. Well, I said it elsewhere, but missed saying it here. Congrats on the release, Donna!

    ReplyDelete

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