An alien soldier without emotions...
Finn is three quarters Asazi and one quarter human. He’s a lieutenant in the Asazi army and his desire is to be the best soldier he can. He’s spent a lifetime denying his human side, only to find out that now it makes him key to a mission on Earth. A mission that includes Marissa Sanchez, Target 41, a determined, smart-mouthed spitfire that brings out emotions his Asazi nature rejects.
A human woman with a target on her.
Marissa’s dream is to keep her restaurant from being seized by ruthless developers. She’s broke, out of options, has a deadline, and a cheating ex who offers to marry her and solve her financial problems. Everything changes when a guy named Finn saves her life and provides a completely different kind of option.
Or how a gorgeous hunk of an alien copes with a drunk human woman)
In seconds, Marissa, the human firebrand was vomiting a white-ish concoction in his direction and he made a swift flip out of her way. Finn didn’t count on his barstool tipping, or knocking hers over. He sure didn’t count on her falling down and her own vomit pelting her.
She sat on the floor, this forlorn, former firebrand, lost, covered in her own vomit, miserable. Pitiful.
Now what? Fueled by alcohol, and embarrassment, what would her temper lead her to do? He paused, waiting for her reaction. The other thing he hadn’t counted on—
A flood of tears burst from her eyes, while her face maintained no emotions at all. This woman was beyond confusing. He leaned in, hoping she’d accept his help. Help? Help her what? What could he do? The only way to get this woman help would be to throw her in a bathtub. Preferably one filled with cold water to shock that alcohol’s effects out of her body and bring her to her senses. What could he say that would make it better? Nothing. So he put his hand out to help her up.
She stared at his hand like it was a cobra.
What was wrong with her? “Let me help you.”
“I’m beyond help.” The snot that dribbled from her nose merged with the tears.
He was happy she was too drunk—hopefully too drunk—to remember the sight she was. Yes, hopefully tomorrow morning she wouldn’t have any inkling of this performance.
And why did that matter anyway? In a short time, she’d become a part of the mission to help his people.
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