Starstruck Holidays: A MM Sci-Fi Holiday Romance Anthology
Jennifer Loring, B. Leslie Tirrell, Merryn Dexter, Kerry Adrienne and Lia Davis
Heat up your holidays with four out of this world, MM sci-fi romance novellas from five bestselling authors.
From Jennifer Loring’s NO ONE ON EARTH ~ Erukkass has located his deceased lover in another dimension and refuses to leave without him. Jon, grieving a devastating loss, turns to the native legend of Handsome Fellow for comfort. When he and Erukkass meet, can they forge a future together, or will two timelines that have always intersected, no matter when or where, finally be forced to diverge?
From Merryn Dexter’s CONJUNCTION ~ The mystical Conjunction of the moons of Elexon sets two men on a collision course. A pirate and a prince — nothing in common but the attraction burning between them. What starts as a fling soon grows serious, but a relationship built on a foundation of secrets and constructed from lies is no relationship at all.
From B. Leslie Tirrell’s ARIZONA IMPULSE ~ Ambassador Kallell Tezak, the youngest member of the Galaxy Alliance, overhears two of his fellow ambassadors conspiring to take control of the device that protects the galaxy from famine. Kallell knows it is his duty to stop them, but he also wants to enjoy his favorite holiday, Genzebe. Kallell might even summon the bravery to confess his love for the shy and serious Esten Lazzaro—his second in command.
From Kerry Adrienne and Lia Davis’s FIRST CONTACT ~ Fugitive Tristan Hawthorne escapes imprisonment only to crash-land on an unidentified, uncharted planet where he faces an alien who stirs passions he thought were long buried. With one working ship and a failing planetary cloaking device, it’s a short time till humans discover Oria and Tristan is recaptured. Under the starry, moonlit sky of the holiday Jainfest, the men learn to overcome their feelings of fear and distrust, and wind up finding out they aren’t so different after all.
Excerpt from Conjunction by Merryn Dexter
Mycel. Fucking. Laast. Cullan grunted, and the sweat pouring from his brow made his
eyes sting as he hauled all two-hundred pounds of his body up to the chin-high bar.
Mycel. Fucking. Laast. Grunt. Heave. Repeat. The three words pounded in his brain, a
constant litany of disappointment and rage. He should have known better than to let his
thoughts stray toward the too-pretty man. A handsome face he could have ignored, even
the sleekly muscled body he kept hidden beneath his expensively-cut clothing. His mind
flashed back to the ripple of tense muscles beneath his fingers in the tavern—the only
time he’d touched him and now likely the only time he ever would.
He couldn’t ignore the slow-building realization over the past week since their shuttle
docked back on the Medusa. He liked the man. Their close-knit crew had fallen hard and
fast for their passenger, with his easy charm and friendly, helpful ways. Each flicker of
those pale blue eyes over his face sent arrows of lust burning deep in Cullan’s belly.
Never one for casual conversation, he’d found himself going out of his way to drop some
dry observation just to hear the smooth cadence of Mycel’s laughter.
In the deep, dark, quiet of his room, Cullan wove little fantasies of what it would be
like to touch him again, to hear and feel that little hitch of breath as he dipped inside the
back of the other man’s waistband, the way it had back in that stinking pit of a tavern.
He didn’t know what had possessed Mycel to shed his Mister Lazarus persona and reveal
his true identity during dinner the previous evening, but Cullan hated him for it.
He’d spent hours researching Elexon from the moment Kyla received the job request.
Scanning old news-vids and trolling through the ship’s extensive archives and planetary
scans. Elexon was part of a progressive quadrant with access to the latest in tech and
communications, but the asshole ruling class ran it like the worst kind of feudal societies,
the kind of problem usually limited to outlier planets. Pavel Laast was the number one
alpha asshole on Elexon. His iron grip on the reins of power showed no signs of slipping,
even in the face of years of devastating drought. He was the kind of man who would let
his people starve rather than give them access to life-saving irrigation and cultivation
tech. And the man invading Cullan’s every waking thought was his son. Better to find out
now before you did something stupid.
Twenty more chin-ups and he was ready to move onto the infinity track. Sure, he had
access to clever machines that could tone and shape a body without effort, but Cullan
preferred the old-fashioned way of keeping fit. He liked to sweat. He pictured pale skin
sliding against his own darker, tanned flesh and bit back a groan. Not even worth a rage
fuck. Lifting a head-set from a cubby on the wall, he adjusted the wraparound screen and
headphones to fit snug around his head and stepped onto the wide track. “Scenario Four.
Playlist Two,” he said and the white walls of the fitness room faded as the screen in front
of his eyes flickered into life.