Good books and free prizes … what’s not to love about the Science Fiction Romance Brigade’s Summer Cafe? I’m giving away two $10 Amazon gift cards on this blog, to randomly selected commenters who respond to this:
Although I’m sure you’ve never done anything as embarrassing as Sandrina in the snippet below, tell us one humorous or embarrassing incident from your life.
I’ll randomly select two winners after midnight Pacific Daylight time on July 12th. Sorry, no substitutions or cash equivalent. In addition, the Summer Cafe offers a Rafflecopter giveaway, described at the end of this post.
Here’s the menu:
So, what’s on the menu for breakfast? The following excerpt is from Edward Hoornaert’s The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station.
Was this love?
Sandrina hoped not. A defective like her had nothing to offer a heroic man like Duke, so love was out of the question. Infatuation, sure. Sex…well, maybe. Make that absolutely! But love, no.
Whatever she felt, she had to tell Duke before the VIP’s whirlwind visit swept him away from her. When she reached Duke’s quarters, though, the door handle glowed with a red stripe, demonic and spiteful. He wanted privacy.
Cursing herself as a coward again, she hurried to a nearby maintenance closet to do something she’d vowed never to do: enter a ventilation shaft to spy into someone’s quarters. So much for respecting Duke’s privacy.
The duct was filthy and dust tickled her nose. Some of this pod’s automatic cleaners, called duck ’bots, must be broken. Crawling around the guts of a rich, well-maintained space station would be so much more pleasant. She wouldn’t always be filthy, either.
Would Duke be glad to see her?
But he isn’t going to see you, idiot. That’s the whole point of sneaking through the ventilation duct.
Ahead, a cul-de-sac in the ductwork glowed with light. Duke’s place. She hurried forward.
“Pass a napkin, stud,” said a female voice.
Sandrina slowed. Wrong room? She was usually so good at navigating.
She peered down through the grate in the room’s ceiling at a small, round table filled with breakfast. Amber and magenta strips of aromatic bacon from Plinial IV’s pseudo-pigs made her stomach rumble.
She edged out onto the grate for a better look. This was Duke’s room, all right—and sitting across from him was the elegant beauty from last night. Sandrina’s imagination could supply their activities between dinner and breakfast. She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear slipped from her eye.
The tear fell through the grate and landed on the woman’s hand as she reached for her cup. The woman froze. Sandrina froze.
The woman recovered first. She stared up at the ceiling grate, stunner in hand.
Sandrina jerked aside—too fast, too violently, because the grate flew open on its hinge. Face first, she plunged down. Luckily, her legs jammed in the ductwork, leaving her dangling over the table. Upside down, she saw Duke’s wide, startled eyes. Blazing humiliation obliterated everything except those eyes.
Before Duke finished the sentence, Sandrina’s legs unstuck. She covered her head with her arms as she plunged face-first into a plate of jam-covered toast.
How about that for a way to show a man you love him? As a seduction technique, do you think it’ll work? If you want to see how things turn out for poor Sandrina, check out The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station.
Want to win free stuff? Of course you do! Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway.
And be sure to check out the other stops on the cafe’s tour.