Then it happens. The company’s toxic management team finally crosses the line. As both techies race to upgrade the station and to free the team from their oppressive contracts, they come to learn that life—and love—can only ever be what you make it.
Strap in for a steamy office romance in space, because sometimes It Starts With a Kiss!
(from the unedited manuscript)
Sure enough, Tahnee turned to her with a devil’s grin. “Heard about you and wonderboy this morning.”
“Of course you did.” Celeste kept on working.
“Laks said he had his face right in your tits!”
“Of course she did.”
“Oh, come on, Celly! I’m so sodding bored. Next dispatch isn’t for another few hours. Give me something!”
If this had been about anyone else—Martin or, heaven forbid, that temp from a few months back, who stood too close and spat when he talked—Celeste would have gladly taken a ribbing from anyone. Especially Tahnee.
But it was different with Owen. Sure, she could play it cool when they talked about work, but anything else got her skittish inside and paranoid as hell he could tell by looking at her. He and everyone. So she always made sure she was the first to look away when they made eye contact; the first to break stride when they fell in step; the first to change positions when she saw their arms folded the same way. She had hiding it down to an art, and maybe it bordered on obsessive over-thinking, but what was the alternative? Getting caught and outed? Ruining a perfectly good working relationship? No way.
But Tahnee was waiting for an answer. Taking any more time to respond would give away plenty.
“All right, all right!” Celeste threw her hands up, a diversion while her mind raced for something to satisfy the expectant dispatch officer. “Um, he does have a very firm body. You can tell he sticks to HR’s fitness plan.”
“Uh huh.” Tahnee nodded. “Thought he might. As disgusted as I am about saying her name right now, it’s clear Eleanor has good taste.”
“Oh, come on.” Celeste glanced towards the break room. ”Owen’s just office hot.” The words tasted like fat, juicy lies on her tongue.
“Of course you did.” Celeste kept on working.
“Laks said he had his face right in your tits!”
“Of course she did.”
“Oh, come on, Celly! I’m so sodding bored. Next dispatch isn’t for another few hours. Give me something!”
If this had been about anyone else—Martin or, heaven forbid, that temp from a few months back, who stood too close and spat when he talked—Celeste would have gladly taken a ribbing from anyone. Especially Tahnee.
But it was different with Owen. Sure, she could play it cool when they talked about work, but anything else got her skittish inside and paranoid as hell he could tell by looking at her. He and everyone. So she always made sure she was the first to look away when they made eye contact; the first to break stride when they fell in step; the first to change positions when she saw their arms folded the same way. She had hiding it down to an art, and maybe it bordered on obsessive over-thinking, but what was the alternative? Getting caught and outed? Ruining a perfectly good working relationship? No way.
But Tahnee was waiting for an answer. Taking any more time to respond would give away plenty.
“All right, all right!” Celeste threw her hands up, a diversion while her mind raced for something to satisfy the expectant dispatch officer. “Um, he does have a very firm body. You can tell he sticks to HR’s fitness plan.”
“Uh huh.” Tahnee nodded. “Thought he might. As disgusted as I am about saying her name right now, it’s clear Eleanor has good taste.”
“Oh, come on.” Celeste glanced towards the break room. ”Owen’s just office hot.” The words tasted like fat, juicy lies on her tongue.
I never expected to write romance. But one thing leads to another and before you know it, you wake up on your front lawn at sunrise with one eyebrow shaved off. Wait, no, wrong story—
With the help of supportive friends, a loving partner, two bossy cats and a well-used Spotify subscription, I turtle-write saucy books involving love, danger, scifi themes, occasional irony, and inconsistent use of the Oxford comma.
My debut novel, Chasing Sisyphus, is a steamy suspense thriller set in a sordid, futuristic city on a distant planet.
I, however, live an apparently wholesome normal life in sunny, present-day Western Australia.
What turns me on? Synthwave and retrofuturism. City lights at night. Moody dawns and melancholy evenings. The kind of improvising that comes with sport, sparring and hanging one-handed, 3m above the ground. Also scotch and tea and coffee and cats.
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Sounds n looks good
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