Sunday, June 28, 2015

SUNDAY SNIPPETS - CRUSADER - Archangel book 1 - by Vijaya Schartz

CRUSADER - Archangel Book 1
by Vijaya Schartz

Michael Tanner, proud, brash, irreverent, half Native American, and single father, doesn't believe in aliens. When a Blue Angel claims to have fathered him, Michael knows his drinking has gone haywire... But a seductive Prince of Darkness born of a nightmare now targets Michael’s family. When his girlfriend disappears and characters from his dreams suddenly materialize to threaten his daughter, Michael must come out of denial and overcome his weaknesses, to face the unbelievable mystery of his birth and fulfill his unique destiny.
"...relationships, angels, aliens and seduction... even Satanism... kept this reviewer riveted... compelling fantasy... you won't want to put it down... superior... enthralls, and, at the same time, awakens!" Metaphysical Reviews

"A mighty fine tale primed to read through in one sitting." Curled Up With a Good Book.


Philadelphia, 1998

"Eh Blondie, two more pitchers!" a tall customer yelled over the music, slurring the words, while the three heavyweights at his table nodded approval.

At the bar, Michael Tanner nursed his bourbon, observing the room through the smoke. "You have to be bad just to have a good time," blared the country song in the background, though he could hardly hear the lyrics above the din. The young waitress in cut-off jeans and western boots smiled at him and he smiled back. Michael knew her by sight only. The girl was new, just a kid. In a few years, his own daughter would be old enough to wait tables. A frightening thought.

"Coming right up!" The girl loaded the tray and wove her way around the tables, straight and sassy, flaunting firm breasts through a white peasant blouse.

The big man watched her every move. Holding the tray high above her head, she pushed the ashtray aside, but he seized her wrist and pinned it to the table. "I bet you don't wear a bra under that flimsy shirt," he snarled.

The young girl blushed. "Let me do my work," she pleaded, struggling to free her hand while balancing the heavy tray on the other.

Michael didn't like the big Yankee who'd sneered at his southern drawl earlier. He couldn't let that cur bother an innocent girl, so he started toward the table.

"You can't fight me, Blondie!" The man leered. "Don't look for the bouncer, he went to take a leak. Why don't you show us your tits?" The Yankee grabbed her waist.

The girl dropped the tray with a cry. It crashed to the floor, glass and beer scattering the sawdust on the concrete. The man's paw on the girl's breast closed and ripped her blouse. She screamed.

Michael pushed himself between the girl and the man. "You need a lesson in good manners!"

"No ignorant Southerner will teach me anything!" The Yankee aimed a fist at Michael's face.

Michael stepped aside, avoiding the impact. When three heavyweights joined the fight, the bouncer tried to intervene, only to find himself buried in chaos. A punch missed Michael's left ear. Applying a ju-jitsu move, he sent his opponent to the floor, into broken glass, sawdust, ashtrays, and cigarette butts. The bartender reached for the phone while the waitress, disheveled, rather nude and pale in her torn blouse and cutoffs, cowered against the bar, protecting her small breasts.

Through the orange light, a booted foot flew to Michael's face. He caught it in mid air. A sharp twist to the right and his opponent's shoulder smashed a table, breaking it in two. A beer bottle sailed through thick haze and shattered on the heavy wall mirror, cracking it.

The kaleidoscope of jeans, cowboy hats, silver buckles, spurs, back kicks, sweat, and blood, made Michael's adrenalin pump faster. He felt happy as a fish in cool water among the toppled tables and chairs, in the smell of whiskey and stale cigar. Although past thirty, tonight he felt eighteen, as wild and passionate as ever.

When Michael leapt onto the bar to get a better view, his long hair caught the breeze from the ceiling fan. A smoky reflection in the cracked mirror revealed his tall stature, chestnut hair, good shoulders, strong jaw, high cheekbones, and strikingly blue eyes... A hard body from packing lumber and driving nails all day.

His balance, he'd acquired from walking on catwalks, scaffolding and ladders, and a few beers and bourbon on the rocks didn't upset his timing by much. That son-of-a-bitch stepfather, who taught him martial arts as a kid, would be proud.

There was the muscular Yankee. Michael jumped down and headed in that direction. Blocking a strike, he dodged a chair, kicked another out of the way then leapt over a table. The man had cleaned up one side of the room and stood, waiting.

Michael felt the Indian half of his blood stir. He feinted to the right then threw a left punch to the chin. The target moved just in time to avoid the blow and sneered back. Mad as hell, Michael nevertheless controlled his anger. He turned as if to walk away. Another feint. In a blur, he kicked high and hard, left heel connecting with the man's face. A jawbone cracked. The Yankee tumbled down and slid all the way back through the open front door.

The lights went out. A cold draft chilled the place as an eerie silence fell. Michael stopped moving and listened. Darkness hovered like a disquieting presence. A shadow reflected in the mirror, and his heart stopped for a second. When he looked around, dim light returned and the bar came back to life. Michael tasted blood. It was dribbling from his brow, although he felt no pain and did not remember being hit. Front row, an oblivious drunk stared through the smoke screen in a daze.

A siren sounded in the distance. Michael had to get out before the police arrived. He could ill-afford getting caught, even in a simple brawl. Too many similar incidents already tainted his record. Who'd take care of his family if he went to jail? He headed for the restrooms, discreetly exiting through the back door. He needed a drink.

Ignoring the nip in the air, Michael ran up the dark alley and headed for the white Ford van with ladders and lumber on top. Sirens blaring, a flashing red and blue motorcycle entered the passageway.

"Damn cop!" At the brink of panic, Michael heard a loud whisper.

"To your left!"

To the left, he glimpsed a narrow opening between two buildings. Michael dove into it and flattened himself against the wall, hardly daring to breathe. Sweat chilled his hands. The police motorcycle drove by without slowing down. Michael let out a sigh of relief.

A strange music startled him. He turned to meet blinding blue light... Blinking, Michael protected his eyes with one hand while his vision adjusted. In the blue halo, he faintly distinguished a frail silhouette. His jaw fell open.

"What the hell?" Michael scratched his head. The blue being was gone, but a voice echoed in Michael's mind: "Do not thank me, Son." No one stood there. He stared at an empty spot.

It took Michael a few seconds to realize, or rather to doubt what he'd just seen. Or had it happened at all? Although sober now, he felt hesitant to take the wheel.

Maybe he should see a shrink. What if Dave was right and all these years of carousing finally caught up with him? But hell, if you let go of booze and women, what would be left in life?

Wearily, listening for any sign of pursuit, Michael reached the white van. The Ford Econoline fit his needs. He'd just had the wrinkles ironed out of it and the new white paint made it look clean. He stepped inside through the sliding door.

Rummaging in the tool chest, Michael caressed the steel barrel of a sawed-off shotgun and picked up an empty can of Pepsi. He crushed the flimsy aluminum with one hand and threw it in the recycle cardboard box in the back. Since Veronica still worked the graveyard shift, he felt in no hurry to get back to a lonely bed.

When Michael turned on the ignition, the radio blasted loud country rock. He winced, lowered the volume and turned the dial until he heard Bruce Springsteen. On the drive home, the empty streets of Northeast Philly glided past the windows. Letting a patrol car slide by quietly, Michael slowed down to resume speed on Roosevelt Boulevard. All the lights switched to green on the main artery.

"Michael, stop!" a voice blared in his mind.

Startled, he jammed the brakes and smoked the screeching tires. A front tire blew up. Fighting for control, Michael brought the van to a stop.

Out of the darkness, a black Mercedes crossed the intersection in front of him, against the light, without even slowing down. The ruthless vehicle with dark windows, all lights off, vanished silently into the night.

"Holy shit!" That was close... Michael hadn't seen it coming. What madness was this? Why did he slam on the brakes? Thank God he did. His heart thumped, and sweat streamed down his back as he looked around, shaking. Michael stepped out of the van to check the damage. "Damn!" The flat was beyond repair.

Frustrated, Michael threw the keys on the ground and ran sweaty fingers through his hair. Of course, he had no spare. Since the nail in the Lumberyard yesterday, there had been no time to get it fixed. Dejected, Michael sat on the curb, feeling the chill from the concrete crawling through his jeans.

A cold mist started to fall, forming halos around the yellow mercury lights. Michael shoved his hands in the pockets of the sheepskin vest. In the haze, he caught a glimpse of a blue light like the one in the alley, a frail silhouette. He rose and called out. "Eh! You! Yes, you!"

Hope you enjoyed this Sunday Snippet. Visit the blogs of the other authors involved in this tour for more exciting excerpts.

Sunday, June 21, 2015


Ancient Enemy Book 1
by Vijaya Schartz
in eBook everywhere 

the Anaz-voohri have returned from the stars after eight hundred years, to claim the planet of their ancestors... a blue orb named Earth.
Since he witnessed the abduction of his baby sister by an alien creature, Zack will stop at nothing to rescue her, even if it means joining the Special Forces.
But Tia Vargas, the reckless Amazon training the secret unit for a highly classified mission, has no use for this handsome, rebellious recruit, at least not on the battlefield, until Zack’s farfetched stories prove to be true, and tragedy strikes

"an epic novel of enduring love despite Herculean obstacles and extraterrestrial intrigues. I was caught up from the first sentence... I adored this book." Coffee Time Romance - 5 cups


Zack woke up with a start, unable to see anything.  Anything at all. Had the power gone out? A subtle vibration permeated the house. Earthquake? No. Earthquakes didn’t make the walls sing.
Something was wrong. With no glow from the digital clock or from his computer screen, Zack tossed his blanket aside and felt his way to the window. He pulled up the black roman shade and lifted the glass pane. The sweet fragrance of roses from the front yard filled the room. As he craned his neck outside, the second story view revealed a full moon but no street lights in the whole residential area of Granada Hills. Had all of Los Angeles blacked out? 
Outside, the strong vibration shook the foliage of the eucalyptus trees. As far as Zack could see, the streets and houses looked dark and quiet. Too dark, too quiet, with no breeze, no birds, not even the chirp of a cricket.
Moonlight filtering into the room illuminated the life-size poster of Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider. As the vibration intensified, something familiar tugged at Zack’s mind. Ashley? His baby sister screeched for help in his head! She was terrified.
Rushing out of the bedroom, Zack stumbled over his sneakers and stepped into the ink black hallway. The vibration shook the hardwood under his bare feet. The smell of burnt rubber or heated machinery assaulted his nostrils. How weird.
Feeling his way along the wall, Zack turned the corner and saw an outline of white radiance around Ashley’s door. He’d left it ajar last night. 
Wearing only his boxers and tee-shirt, Zack shivered when a malevolent breeze coursed across his skin, as if to keep him away. Was he dreaming?  He bit his lip. It hurt, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Wide awake! His heart beat so hard, it threatened to explode.
Outside Ashley’s door, their Persian cat arched his back and hissed, spooked. His bristled tail rose straight up in the air, sparking with static electricity. 
“What’s going on in there, Dude?” Zack whispered, his heart faltering. He swallowed with a dry throat, remembering the horror movies he used to enjoy watching. But this was no movie, and he couldn’t stand the thought of his baby sister in any danger.
Zack moved sluggishly, like through water with weights on his ankles. Had the air become dense? Had he landed in the middle of a strange videogame? Finally he pushed the door open. Blinded by bright light, Zack stood paralyzed. He tried to step inside, to no avail. His legs refused to move. 
Unable to scream his frustration, he remained frozen in the doorway, immobilized by a strange force that controlled his body. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, the unobstructed view of his sister’s room chilled his spine.
Bent over the bed, a tall creature of humanoid proportions hovered above the floor, wearing a long, shimmering cape that accentuated its square shoulders. Seven-year-old Ashley, her blue eyes wide with terror, blonde curls framing her tan face, clutched her favorite Barbie Doll, her mouth open in a silent wail. 
Get away from my sister, you freak!  No word came out of Zack’s mouth.
The creature turned to face Zack. Under the hood, the bald skull glowed from within, blue, pink and green, like a see-through phone. The face had large oval eyes, milky skin, elongated cheeks, and a straight thin mouth etched with grim determination. 
Hang on, Ashley, I’m coming. When Zack attempted to rush the creature, his feet stuck to the floor. He tried to yell but his vocal cords remained mute. He wanted to break the freak’s skull, bloody the monster’s small nose, make it feel pain. What did this thing want with his baby sister?
The creature turned its attention to a small device it held in spidery fingers. The bright light shrunk to a wide oblique beam that angled out through the gaping window. Beyond it, an ominous shadow hung above the house. The vibration emanated from it. Zack couldn’t believe what he saw. A spacecraft? 
Howling inside, but unable to intervene, Zack watched as the creature lifted his frightened sister from the bed. Ashley didn’t protest when the monster wrenched the Barbie doll from her grip and threw it back on the blanket. Then the monster stepped into the beam of light and floated out the window with its prize. The paralyzing hold ebbed. Zack staggered into the room toward the window. He wanted to call for help but his throat still refused to make any sound.
As Zack stepped after them into the beam of light, the creature had almost reached the waiting craft. The alien pointed a small device at Zack. The shot sizzled and shook him like an electroshock. Zack’s legs buckled from the pain. He hit the plush pink rug and darkness engulfed him.

Hope you enjoyed this Sunday Snippet. Visit the blogs of the other authors involved in this tour for more exciting excerpts.

Sunday, June 14, 2015


by Vijaya Schartz
Available everywhere in eBook.

Snatched from a post-apocalyptic battlefield by galactic traders, Zania is sold to a clandestine ring of fighting Amazons on a planet lush with green jungles and teeming with deadly felines. She resents the gorgeous and overzealous Viking champion, Svend, who saves her life but too easily accepts his slavery. Adulated by a woman who claims to know her, hated by the jealous Amazon queen who fancies Svend, Zania seeks escape... But Svend knows the price of rebellion. And on this seemingly peaceful planet, ruled and defended by machines, nothing is what it seems... Among the rumbles of a volcano threatening to explode, insurrection is brewing, and no one is safe...

"...nonstop action packed adventure from start to finish. An exceptional tale full of unexpected plot twists and turns, action aplenty, and sexy heroic characters." Fallen Angel Reviews

"A story with plot twists too numerous to list... Alternate Earths... Zania and Svend fight for their lives... spurned lovers... volcano... Can Zania and Svend find happiness when their world is coming apart ? Sensual Reads - Sultry - 4.5 stars


"All sexual relations have been abolished in these parts," the synthetic voice volunteered.
"Abolished?" Zania stifled a nervous chuckle as she kept walking. "It doesn’t make much sense."
"The tendencies that bring sexual passions, or passions of any kind, also breed violence, and all violence has been bred out of the citizens of this Earth. It is the price they pay for lasting peace and safety."
The concept sounded so foreign, Zania started to suspect she had wandered into delirium.
She must have lost her mind. "Did you say Earth?"
"That’s what the natives call their planet."
The natives? So her captors were from some other place? From space? Zania slowed down but remembered she had to keep walking in order to get answers.
"This Earth is different from yours. It survived. Your native planet is long gone."
"Gone?" How could a planet be gone? "What do you mean?"
"Gone as in destroyed, reduced to interstellar dust, volatilized."
Zania couldn’t accept that. The idea that Earth as she knew it was no more bothered her beyond belief. "When did that happen? How long have I been unconscious?"
"Your battle happened one thousand, three hundred and thirty one Earth years ago," the voice stated with confidence.
"What?" Zania’s legs turned to mush. Something in her gut told her it was the truth. Her father, her brothers, her cheating boyfriend, all dead... They never found her body, declared her MIA. "How is that possible?"
"You were selected and preserved for our specific purpose."
"What purpose?" Zania couldn’t stand not being in control of her own destiny. "Who made that decision for me?"
"We did."
That We again. The corridor ended into a sharp turn. The sound of many voices filtered into the hallway. "What’s this place?"
"The time has come to perform your duty."
Before Zania could protest, she emerged into a brightly lit arena, with people in the bleachers, cheering and yelling her name. They all wore gray robes and hid their faces under a hood, like ghosts. "Why do they all wear gray?"
"Color is not allowed on their Earth. Color breeds passions."
"But I wear blue, and the mat is red."
"This is clandestine entertainment We provide for them. They hide their faces for fear of being recognized."
Stepping on the soft red mat, Zania raised her gaze to the highest levels of the arena and noticed a gigantic projection of herself on the ceiling.
The deep blue veils suited her well, enhancing her dazzling blue eyes and apricot complexion, and revealing much of her body. With the long flowing hair and the eye makeup of an Egyptian queen, Zania hardly recognized herself. She looked more beautiful than she remembered. Of course, she’d never been the pampering type.
The cheering suddenly stopped and Zania realized she no longer stood alone on the mat of the arena. There, in the bright light, walked a tall muscular man, young, his long blond hair framing a tan face with icy gray eyes... The visage of Adonis on Hercules’s body.
Her gaze roamed over the regular lines of his jaw, the full, sensual lips, dimpled chin, down the expanse of his hairless pectorals, and stopped on the leather cod piece embossed with Tor’s hammer. That’s all he wore.
So, he was a Viking. Zania could easily imagine him swinging a sword or a battle axe like his ancestors. He certainly had the biceps for it. His bare thighs bulged with muscles, yet his face held an almost feminine beauty. She couldn’t help a shiver of appreciation for this perfect male specimen.
"Are you Adonis himself?" If he were, Zania would have to prostrate herself.
"No, Zania. My name is Svend." His amused smile told her he enjoyed her surprise.
"Who is Adonis?"
"Never mind." How could he not know the gods of the Pantheon?
The synthetic female voice interrupted her thoughts. "This is the mate We selected for you."
"Mate?" Zania realized only she could hear the voice as Svend didn’t react to the outrageous comment.
"You must join with him here, now, for the pleasure of our illustrious clients." The lack of emotion clashed with the loaded words. "In exchange, you will live another day."
"You don’t say." Mating was out of the question.
"Think before you decide. If you delight the crowd, you may be auctioned off to a prosperous patron, or even earn your freedom."
Freedom... That had been Zania’s battle cry. "This is blackmail!" As a soldier, she had no tolerance for such practices. She didn’t risk her life in combat to end up as an unwilling porn star. "I’m not mating with this..." She lacked the words. Viking prince? Golden god?
Svend smiled and walked to her with debonair confidence. "Shall we give them a good show? How long has it been since you were fully satisfied?" The deep voice caressed and enveloped her.
How long indeed! "Don’t touch me!" How dare this stranger think she’d go along with his parody of seduction. "I can only have sex with a man I love." The man she’d loved had cheated on her while she fought on the front. Of course, she’d had casual sex before, and sacred sex at the temple as well, but she wanted to make a point.
Svend laughed, revealing perfect white teeth. "It can be love if you want it to be..." He circled her like a wolf, or a big cat stalking his prey. "Sooner or later, you’ll give in, though. We can’t escape our urges and feelings. That’s why we are here... We are not like them."
"Them?" Zania turned to face him as he circled her. "What are they?"
"Eunuchs, sexless shadows devoid of emotions trying to escape their gray lives. Who cares?" He flashed a wolfish grin. "They find their thrills vicariously through rare specimens like us."
Zania wondered how rare.
"We are the highest ranking slaves." Svend moved closer. "The sex champions of this new era. Come on. Don’t deny yourself. You can’t resist me forever. I am the best at what I do."
The best at sex? What arrogance! Zania’s warring instincts took over. She’d never been a victim, and no man would ever force himself upon her, not even a gorgeous Viking. And
certainly not in public, for the titillation of some sick degenerates. "How can you accept slavery so easily?"
Svend winked. "It’s not so bad. I get all the pretty girls."
"I’ll never submit to this." Zania balanced herself on both feet and bent her knees in a defensive stance, wishing she had better suited battle gear. At least the short flowing veils wouldn’t impede her legs. "If you come any closer, you’ll regret it."
Ignoring her threat, Svend took a step forward. He didn’t look one bit afraid. "If you fight back, they’ll switch you from sex games to combat to the death. They have those as well, and, believe me, they are less pleasurable."
Zania struggled to grasp his meaning. But she wouldn’t be intimidated. "At least, in a fight, I make my own destiny. Prepare to suffer, Svend." Zania spit the name with disgust. She hated him for being subservient. And she would never let anyone control her.

Hope you enjoyed this Sunday Snippet. Visit the blogs of the other authors involved in this tour for more exciting excerpts.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Sunday Snippets - Alien Lockdown by Vijaya Schartz

by Vijaya Schartz
Available in eBook everywhere 

The year is 3033, and deep in the bowels of the underground galactic prison, something has gone terribly wrong. Rhonda Alendresis never wanted this prison job. When the civilians vanish and an earthquake damages the nuclear reactor, she must go down to repair it with Captain Perfect himself, Cole Riggeur, who always plays by the rules and never trusted a woman in his life. But deep in the underground penitentiary, the most wicked convicts in the Galaxy are loose, and a treacherous shape-shifter plans his revenge. Disconnected from the Garrison, against impossible odds, Cole and Rhonda now face their greatest challenge... trusting each other in order to survive.

"...suspenseful, gripping saga of survival, betrayal, and hope...the resourcefulness and courage that occurs when a person refuses to admit defeat and die." Fallen Angel Reviews - 5 angels


Zurin Five Penitentiary, Andromeda Galaxy, 3033 C.E.
Underground Level Six - The Garrison

“For the love of God, answer if you can hear me!" Rhonda's growing alarm made her voice tremble. She felt cold sweat dripping down her spine.
In the cobalt glow of the circular control room, the monitors displayed empty offices. Where had the civilian employees gone? Why did no one answer the morning call? Had Rhonda made a mistake? She dreaded getting in trouble on her first solo watch.
Swallowing a clump in her throat, prison guard Rhonda Alendresis punched an emergency broadcast key on the central console. “Garrison calling all office personnel. Anyone up there at all?" Seconds ticked by and a chill crossed her spine. Still no response.
Something seemed very wrong near the surface, but the main computer didn't detect any emergency. On the high-vaulted ceiling, the Artificial Intelligence that ran the facility hummed softly. Its concentric blue circles pulsed in a normal pattern. Rhonda addressed the A.I. “Skipper? What's wrong in the upper levels?”
“All is as it should be, Miss Alendresis." The cheery disembodied voice filled the room, coming from all directions. “Nothing to report.”
It didn't make sense. If the A.I. didn't detect any emergency, maybe she shouldn't worry so much. New in the prison business, Rhonda wondered whether her fellow guards had concocted a sick joke to scare her. If they did, Rhonda would make them pay in the most devious way. She could be creative, too.
The bank of monitors displaying the deeper levels of the prison facility showed the inmates in their cells, some still asleep, others washing and eating breakfast as usual. All looked normal and secure down below.
But in the offices just above, nothing moved. Feverishly, Rhonda double-checked the cameras of all the civilian areas. Even the cafeteria and the gym looked devoid of life while they should effervesce with early morning activity.
Even if it were a prank, Rhonda couldn't take any chances. She hated to disturb the Captain, mainly to call for help. Reluctantly, she opened a channel to Captain Riggeur's personal quarters.
The Captain's face and smooth torso filled the screen. He shaved while watching a family hologram. Rhonda wondered about the toddler playing with a ship in the holoplay. She didn't know anything about Captain Riggeur's family, never thought he had one. In the background, she could hear a symphonic orchestra above the soft hum of his shaver. The Captain had good taste in music.
Riggeur stopped the holoplay and the picture of the child vanished. “Quiet,” he ordered, and the music stopped. He turned off his shaver. “What is it, Rhonda?" His cerulean blue eyes transfixed her through the camera as if he could see right through her. How did he do that?
Trying not to feel foolish under his intense gaze, Rhonda composed herself. “Sorry to disturb you this early, Captain, but we may have an emergency!”
“May have? Make up your mind, Rhonda. Do we, or don't we?" He quickly combed back short blond hair.
Irritated by his patronizing attitude, Rhonda refrained a comment that might get her fired. Instead, she said, “The A.I. has nothing to report, but...”
“So, what could possibly be the emergency?" The light marble background of the bathroom and the soft lighting emphasized the Captain's perfect tan.
Rhonda took a deep, calming breath. “I can't establish contact with the Duran offices on the upper levels for the morning call. No one answers the comsystem and the offices are empty.”
“Empty?" The Captain‟s square jaw tightened. “You must be mistaken. There has to be someone there. It's not like they could have gone out for a stroll." He opened a bottle, squeezed aftershave in his hands and slapped it on his cheeks.
“I checked all the security cameras." Rhonda pushed back a dark, curly strand of hair, painfully aware that uniform regulations prohibited loose hair, as well as scarves like the red one around her neck. As an artist, she found the gray uniform drab and liked a touch of color near her face. She knew the Captain enforced the rules, but she‟d not expected to see him on this shift. “It's as if no one got out of bed this morning."
“Could it be some weird holiday?" Captain Cole Riggeur squinted in the mirror. “Maybe they are attending a religious ritual in the chapel?”
“No, Captain. I checked that, too."
“Can't you locate any of them?”
Frustrated by his lack of trust, Rhonda blurted, “Civilians don't wear locator chips, Captain.”
“Don't be a smart-ass, Rhonda." His deep blue eyes narrowed. “I meant did you broadcast in all the common areas?”
“Yes, Captain, I did. No response.”
When he walked away from the camera toward the towel rack, Rhonda realized with a start that he was stark naked. From the back he looked like a statue from ancient Greece she'd seen in a museum on Banoi. Tall, athletic, the Captain had tightly curved muscles under a smooth, flawless skin.
Taken aback, Rhonda couldn't control the flush heating her neck and rising to her cheeks. She'd never thought of Captain Cole Riggeur sexually, never pictured him naked, but this incident would make it difficult to erase the heavenly vision from her memory, a prime subject to keep in mind for one of her future paintings.

Hope you enjoyed this Sunday Snippet. Visit the blogs of the other authors involved in this tour for more exciting excerpts.