Today is the day we start ripping our kitchen apart. WOOT! I'm excited. I hate those stupid cabinets that bash me in the head every time I cook.
And in two weeks, Priestess of the Eggstone will start shipping! To tease you, here's a blurb and excerpt:
Pursued by the Targon Crime Syndicate bent on revenge, the Patrol intent on recruitment, and the Sessimoniss who want their god back, the last thing Captain Dace needs is a handsome copilot with romance on his mind.
But that’s exactly what she’s got.
She didn’t realize she was smuggling when she accepted the courier job. Now Targon wants her for stealing the shipment and the Patrol wants to arrest her. The Sessimoniss want their god back. And Jerimon’s aunt is planning their wedding.
She doesn’t know which scares her most.
Priestess of the Eggstone: The Fall of the Altairan Empire Book 2 by Jaleta Clegg
We rounded the last big moon into clear space. I checked the nav program one last time, to make sure we were headed the right direction before we jumped. The chatter of local pilots was steady as a background noise that dissolved into static as we passed into the moon's shadow. The ship lurched, then slowed, the engines whining.
I flipped switches, trying to find the problem. Jerimon pushed the thrusters all the way to the stops. The engine whine rose in pitch. The ship shuddered. The emergency lights flashed. Warnings hooted through the ship.
"Shut it down!" I yelled over the noise.
Jerimon stubbornly tried to pull more power from the engines. His face was pale and his chin set as he goosed the throttles. I reached across the controls to slam the switches off. Jerimon slumped in his chair, hands over his face. The engines spun down. The alarms shut up, all except one. It was a quiet, insistent beeping with a single, flashing red light.
I checked the screen, then muttered a bad word at the unknown vessel showing on the scans. "Who'd be using a tractor beam out here?"
The ship was bigger, but that didn't mean much. Anything was bigger than my ship. The scanners didn't show any ID traces from the other ship.
"Does it look like pirates to you?" Pirates weren't uncommon in this sector but Rucal had a major Patrol station out beyond the moons. What pirate would be stupid enough to operate under the Patrol's nose?
I knew of at least one, but he was in prison. I scowled at the screen. In a few moments, I wouldn't need the scanner. I could just look outside.
Jerimon dropped his hands to his lap, staring bleakly at the monitor. If he didn't know who was on that ship, I'd eat my socks—the ones I'd been wearing for three days without washing because I hadn't found the time.
"Who are they and why are they dragging us in?"
Jerimon shook his head, eyes locked on the approaching ship. He gripped the chair so hard his knuckles went white.