
Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! Degree of Resistance is my first foray into cyborg romance, and I had a huge amount of fun building the world of the Pacific Protectorate and discovering Evie and Benâs story as it progressed (I have to admit, I love these two so much. That scene in Chapter 12 hurt to write). There are five more books planned in the series with a possibility of two prequels and some side stories as they occur to me, so I can promise you that youâll be seeing more of Evie and Ben in the very near future.
Sci Fi Romance, Cyborg Romance, MF
Word Count: 80,000
Series: Pacifica Rising (Book One)
Heat Level 4
Published by Belaurient Press
ISBN: 978-1-54314-670-7
A perfect society hiding a terrible secret. An innocent man condemned to cyborg slavery. A brilliant woman determined to set him free.
Freelance tech Evie Contreras belongs to the Employee class of the Pacifica Protectorate, the âperfect societyâ that rose from the ruins of the West Coast. But Evie knows about Pacificaâs festering core and the secrets that keep it in power. And when she discovers that Pacifica has turned her fiancĂŠ Ben into a cyborg soldier/slave, she will risk everything to rescue him.
Saving Ben is the first step in a deadly game between Pacifica and a shadowy resistance group known as Rubicon. In return for Rubiconâs help, Evie must retrieve a hidden artificial intelligence that may hold the key to protecting Earth from a deadly new disaster.
Assuming the protectorate doesnât find Evie firstâŚ
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PG-13 EXCERPT
Evie opened the control box wired to the pressure tank that took water from the Burgess well. A set of dusty but functional solar cells sat on a pole fastened to the tank, and insulated wiring led from the cells to the control box. âOkay, the well is definitely not dry and the battery is pulling juice from the cells, so itâs got to be a failure in the pump,â she said, rooting around in the bag of borrowed tools next to her.
Ben crouched down next to her, making sure he was in between her and any potential restart of the McBride/Burgess water war. âThink you can fix it?â
She gave him an âare you kiddingâ glance, then returned her attention to the dusty innards of the control box. She leaned closer, nose wrinkling. âEw.â
âWhat?â
Grimacing, she reached into the box and pulled out a small, stiff body. âI think itâs a deep-fried lizard. Can they chew on wires?â
He gingerly accepted the small corpse. The arid air had done a fine job of natural mummification on it. âNot as much. It mightâve peed on something, though.â
âYay.â She peered deeper into the box. âYeah, I think youâre rightâlooks like a contact got corroded. I can fix that.â
As she got to work, Ben kept an ear cocked to the radio clipped to his jacket pocket. After giving them a royal chewing out for taking an unauthorized beer break, J.C. was overseeing the repair of the War Wagon while a chastised Vince and company drove the bartered food and the wounded security officer back to the base in the Bandit. Rob had volunteered to stay behind as backup, and Evieâs presence had been requested at J.C.âs side once she was finished with the well pump.
He watched her frown in concentration at the control box. âThere, that should work. I already primed the pump soââ She flipped a switch and the pressure tank rumbled before settling down to a satisfied gurgling. âDamn, Iâm good.â
âYes, you are.â
She squinted at him, patches of color blooming in her cheeks. He didnât think it was because of the blustery wind. âThanks. We better get back to the War Wagon.â
He got up and gave her a hand, hanging onto it once she was on her feet. She didnât try to pull away, which was reassuring. âIâm sorry about punching the wall in your office,â he said. âI shouldnât have done that.â
The corner of her mouth quirked. âI think you were justified.â
âI donât, but thanks for that.â He stared at the hollows between the hills of her knuckles, the elegant strength of the hand. He never wanted to let it go. âI just hate the thought of you going back to Pacifica without me.â
The wind drove strands of dark hair across her face, curtaining it. âI know, but I donât have a choice. Ballardie and I are the only ones who know how to shut down Lilithâs server. He canât go so it has to be me. But Iâm going to have Mark, Rob, and Lisa backing me up, and theyâre all armed and extremely psycho. Iâll be fine.â
Ben wanted to smile at her description of the security officers. âBaby, you could head in there with a cyborg army at your back and Iâd still worry.â
She snorted. âIs there anything I could say that would make you feel better?â
âNot really.â He brushed the hair away from her face. âI guess ⌠Iâm feeling useless right now because I canât protect you, and Iâm scared Iâm going to lose you again, and if that happensâŚâ He didnât want to think about the yawning abyss that would become the brief remainder of his life in that case.
Those lovely russet eyes softened. âI understand about being scared,â she said, cupping his cheek. âThatâs how I felt every time you went on deployment. I never knew if you were going to be in danger or not. All I could do was wait and pray that you came home.â
âShit.â He pressed into the warmth of her hand, memorizing how she felt against his skin. âIf this is how you felt, Iâm sorry.â
âThereâs nothing to be sorry about. Itâs part of loving a soldier. I knew that going in.â Â Her thumb stroked his cheekbone. âBut I also knew if there was any way for you to come back, youâd take it. And you proved me right. You survived twelve years under Camden, and you came back to me. So Iâm telling you right now that Iâm coming back to you, and Iâm bringing Ally with me.â
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. âYou better. I donât think I can live without you.â
âSame here. Twelve years was long enough.â Her lips quirked. âAnd as for you being useless, may I remind you that you just walked into a strange town alone, convinced an armed man to let you into his bar, singlehandedly negotiated a ceasefire between two crazy people, rescued a bunch of our guys in the process, and you didnât fire a single shot or spill a drop of blood doing it. Youâre about as far from useless as itâs physically possible to be.â
He considered what sheâd said. Viewed in that light, it was kind of impressive. âI was just doing my job,â he said, self-conscious.
âThatâs what heroes always say.â
âYou think Iâm a hero?â
Her smile was blinding. âWell, youâve always been my hero.â
Christ, he loved her. He pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek on top of her head. âI donât know what I did to deserve you,â he murmured, âbut damn, Iâm glad I did it.â
âSo am I.â She leaned back and kissed him, her lips cool and soft. âAnd I know this is kind of pointless to say to a hero, but try not to worry about me. The thing isââ
She shifted, her hands moving. He suddenly found himself on the cold ground, right arm straight up behind him with his hand flexed in a wrist lock and her foot braced under his shoulder blade. ââIâm not exactly what youâd call helpless.â
He huffed out a rueful laugh. He could break the lock with his augmented strength, but not without hurting her. And if he was honest with himself he was damned impressed that sheâd put him on the ground so neatly. âSomeoneâs been practicing.â
âYup. Robâs pretty damn good at hand-to-hand, and I still remember everything you and Tio Christo taught me.â Her voice dropped. âIâm coming back, Ben. And Iâm bringing our daughter with me. Youâre not going to lose either of us ever again.â
The grip around his wrist disappeared. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the most beautiful mouth in the world. Upside down, he wasnât sure if she was smiling or frowning.
She planted her hands on her hips. âYou believe me, right?â
He grinned. âMy momma didnât raise stupid children, maâam. I believe you.â
âGood.â She toed at the dust. âNow get up. Iâm freezing my ass off out here and I want to go home.â
Home. That sounded like a fine idea.

BIO
Nicola Cameron is a married woman of a certain age who really likes writing about science fiction, fantasy, and sex. When not writing about those things, she likes to make Stuffâ˘. And she may be rather fond of absinthe.
While possessing a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasnât until 2012 that she decided to write about it. The skills picked up during her SF writing career transferred quite nicely to speculative romance. Her To Be Written work queue currently stands at around nineteen books, and her mojito-sodden Muse swans in from Bali every so often to add to the list, cackling to herself all the while.
Nicola plans to continue writing until she drops dead over her keyboard or makes enough money to buy a private island and hire Rory McCann as her personal trainer/masseur, whichever comes first.