Interplanetary agents and smugglers — when they collide, their chemistry will be explosive.

White Russian (Wanted 1): After weeks of lonely space and one breakdown after another, Tiressa just wants a drink to relax while the nebula storm passes. But when she orders a White Russian, he’s not quite what she expects. Undercover so deep only the Supreme Commander of the military knows his mission, Yuri Dubnikov’s situation is bad. Convincing Tiressa he isn’t the villain will definitely take work.

Vodka Shots (Wanted 2): Dmitry is pissed as hell. He was betrayed by a woman he trusted and now she must pay. When finally catches her, her reasons for her betrayal — and her abrupt departure — chill his blood. With secrets and conspiracies at every turn, Dmitry must decide who to trust. The lives of everyone he holds dear may depend on his decisions.

Molotov Cocktail (Wanted 3): Hawk has been baffled by Onyx since they first met. The woman defies all reason. A man can only take so much, and when Onyx defies his orders in the heat of battle, Hawk decides to show her what a fiery explosion a Molotov Cocktail can really ignite.

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EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Marteeka Karland
Excerpt from White Russian

Tiressa stumbled into the dimly lit holo bar and collapsed into a booth. What a fucking day! Nothing had gone right. Absolutely nothing. Her ship had been grounded at Patmar Station because of a busted beacon lamp. When she finally did get clearance to leave, her power coil blew a ring. Now, the nebula storms had forced her to this back-space junk station with no end in sight. What the fuck else could go wrong? She just wanted to get back to Earth and civilization.

She flagged down the dark-haired waiter, who tried to ignore her. “Look, I’m tired, and all I want to do is get back to Earth. I’m seriously PMSing, and I’ve had absolutely no chocolate or caffeine for the last twenty solar days. Do not make me ask you twice to get your ass over here and get me a drink.”

That changed the little man’s mind. In a hurry.

Tiressa wasn’t a small woman by any means. She stood five-nine and, though lean, carried a fair amount of muscle. She looked like a space marine and had the temper to match, but in reality, she was a glorified delivery girl. Suited her fine. She was the only cargo tech in the whole damned company who hadn’t been jacked at least four or five times. Hell, she hadn’t been jacked even once. The only pirate who’d tried got to sample his own balls.

Literally.

After that, word got around, and everyone pretty much left her alone.

“What’ll it be?” The lanky waiter might have finally stopped at her table, but it was far from a willing gesture.

“White Russian. Straight up.”

The man stopped in mid-movement as he tapped her order into his tablet. “Did you say, ‘White Russian, straight up’?”

Tiressa had to clench her fists to keep from scratching the poor bastard’s eyes out. “Did I stutter or something, or are you hard of hearing?”

“No, ma’am.” His tone was suddenly respectful, and his body language screamed fear. Finally, something in her tone had made him take her seriously. Maybe this day was getting better. “I just didn’t expect a woman to… err… order… such a… err… drink.” He stammered all over himself, but Tiressa didn’t care. Something in the back of her mind prickled, but she ignored it. If he brought her alcohol, she didn’t really give a fuck.

Instead of replying, she just gave him her best icy stare, and he scurried off. Sitting back with a satisfied smirk, Tiressa crossed her legs and looked around her. The place was practically deserted save for a couple of human attendants and several bots to clean tables. The latest news feeds scrolled along the top of the bar, and holo images of fugitives and criminals danced across the banner. Including the announcement of the capture of Yuri Dubnikov.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.