Mikala's Missives

A modest manifest of missives to keep readers up to date on works in progress, coming soon releases and where to get my books as well as some free stories when I get time to post them.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Deep Encounter OUT NOW !

First Prize Winner of the Whisper’s Seven Wonders of the World Writing Contest out now from Whispers Press.

A kilometer beneath the surface, in the cold, dark ocean depths, world renowned exo-biologist Samantha Price and ex-lover Mike Leigh, pilot of a deep-sea submersible, come face to face with the Mimetai, a creature that knows nothing of humanity.Hurled to the sea bottom, their submersible incapacitated by the Mimetai and with air running out, Samantha and Mike rekindle their love and by doing so, give themselves an unexpected chance at happiness and maybe even survival.

Available now at Whispers:

and Mobipocket



We fell for an hour before either of us spoke, to each other, that is.
Mike, of course, was in constant contact with our controllers a thousand meters or so topside, speaking in the unintelligible techno-speak that pilots and astronauts adore.
Sitting beside him in the co-pilot’s seat, I was trying to figure out why the hell I was there.
“Well, is it a spaceship?” I asked eventually.
“Is that why I’m here?”
He looked at me with that cute, puzzled hound dog expression I used to adore. Still do, truth be told.
I turned away to gaze out my port at the darkness through which we were plummeting. The black scene was lit by countless flashes of bio-luminescence from tiny, and not so tiny, undersea creatures hunting and being hunted in the dark killing field of the deep Pacific Ocean.
“A movie from last century,” I explained. “A spaceship is found at the bottom of the sea, the military calls in the scientists to study it. It turns out disastrously, of course, but that’s Hollywood for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
I was babbling. I blamed it on jet lag, not having breakfast and on the pheromones Mike was pumping into the confined atmosphere of the submersible.
When I’d first seen him leaning against the bright yellow sub, my heart had leapt into my throat. It hadn’t occurred to me he’d be there. I’d thought he was still in Antarctica exploring underneath what was left of the polar ice shelf.
“No spaceship,” he said.
“Then why am I here?”
“I asked for you especially.”
It was just as I’d thought. “Listen, Mike—”
He held up his hand. “Sssh. It’s not what you think.”
I glared at him. “And what do I think?”
“That I’m rekindling an old flame.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” The edge in my voice was colder than the sea water outside. I hadn’t meant to sound like that and instantly regretted it. He grinned and, damn-it-all, a little flutter started somewhere just below my breastbone and skittered its way through my belly and collided with the juncture of my thighs.
“You’re here because you, My Love, are the world’s top exo-biologist.”
“Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere.”
“I wouldn’t dream of hitting on a married woman.”
The little gasp I gave at that point was because in six, or was it seven hours from now, I wouldn’t be married any longer. I checked my watch; a novelty cartoon watch Mike had bought me many years ago to celebrate our first month anniversary. For some reason I’d never gotten around to throwing it away. The second hand no longer moved, but the others did just fine.
To be exact, I had six and a half hours of married life yet to endure. Rico, my soon to be ex-husband, had promised to deliver the duly signed paperwork to my lawyers. I’d phoned him after threatening to do bodily harm to the Naval officers who’d been hustling me out of the Capital Building. Nothing was going to stop me from getting divorced, not even being kidnapped by the military. I was sure Rico would deliver the papers early, so eager he was to be shed of me.
I glanced at Mike. He was busy with the controls, testing the manipulators that stretched out in front of our sub like thin skeletal arms; with elbows, hands and two clasping metallic fingers.
Mike couldn’t know about my impending divorce, I was sure. His reference to marriage had just been a throwaway line.


cheers from down under

Mikala Ash
Spaceport: Trash & Treasure, A Holly Barberossa Adventure out now from Changeling Press
“… a damn great story,” says Nicole Harvey of Paranormal Romance about The Body Politic, out now from Changeling Press
“Rauni’s Mistress is one of the better SF romances I’ve read so far this year!” (5 Angels from Jean at Fallen Angel Reviews)
“Science Fiction meets Queen of the Damned in Mikala Ash’s latest erotic paranormal.” Rachelle, Fallen Angel Reviews about Slave To Lust from Changeling Press
“For a great Shape Shifter novella, with a dash of the unusual and a bit of spice, I recommend Eden's Reprise.” (4 Angels from Elizabeth at Fallen Angel Reviews)
“A rich and erotic shapeshifter story” Christine, ParaNormal Romance about A Political Animal from Changeling Press (4 Angels from FAR)

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

Trash & Treasure Coming Soon

Trash & Treasure, a Holly Barberossa erotic adventure, coming soon from Changeling Press

And can be found at:


Story Summary:

Award-winning reporter for the Adana Observer Holly Barberossa finds herself once again in her natural environment, hot water.
Antagonizing the Dollavera "brothers," a family of clones who run the Amalgamated Spaceport Guild of Scavengers, with a series of damaging exposés was bound to drop her into a cauldron of trouble but when a dismembered body, an abused robot and a scared alien entity are thrown into the mix then Holly is really in the soup.
Then there’s Maxim Dollavera who, she hopes, is not like his "brothers." A man with his smoldering good looks just can’t be a bad guy, can he? Trying for a surprise interview Holly walks in on him and his male lover, Felis Panthera, a randy Leonine with equally attractive attributes. Forget the story, she hopes there’s room for one more in Maxim’s erotic world.
But she can’t forget a story, that’s her problem, and her greatest strength. Will Maxim’s brothers allow Holly to walk all over them in the media without retribution? Will Maxim welcome her into his world when she is trying to destroy his brothers? And just who are the bad guys, really?
These and other questions boil over in Spaceport: Trash & Treasure, a Holly Barberossa erotic adventure.


I need a beer. With an emphatic click, Holly Barberossa snapped off her smartcam while K. Dollavera was still flapping his jaws, the bombastic Guild executive ever eager to have the last word. Asshole! It had been a helluva day. She’d lost her cool and she knew it. Vinnie would gripe about it in the morning, give her the old lecture about getting more with sugar than… hell, she couldn’t remember how that homily ended even though she’d heard it a thousand times. I need a beer. The Haze was only ten minutes away. She could almost taste the amber fluid, not to mention the plate of ribs she’d have to go along with it. The image of her favorite meal, dripping with that mouth watering Altaran sauce the cook at the Haze used, filled her mind and worked its magic on her salivary glands. Her empty stomach gave a sustained and hopeful cheer. She hadn’t stopped for lunch, running from one end of Adana to the other; interviewing idiots and assholes, fending off the groping hands of hopeful pedestrians trying to cop a feel, being kidnapped and fucking led around blindfolded by amateurs on the run (as if they really thought I couldn’t figure out where they took me, geeze! ), gassed by a flatulent Fedoran, given the cold shoulder by the fucking head of ’Port Security (I’ll put her on a fucking spit and roast her slow), and to top it off that fucking asshole Dollavera trying to wheedle out of not spilling the beans about the gang war brewing right under his and his goddamn brothers’ fucking noses (brothers, there’s a misnomer for you, fucking brothers my ass, fucking clones). Clones. She took a deep and sustained breath. Good looking clones, sexy clones who boiled her juices every time she was within ten meters of their athletic bulk. Bastards. She ordered her thoughts and skipped through the interview with Riz Gitto, the retired head of ’Port Security and CEO of Adana’s newest private security firm. She could tell he wanted her badly, his pale gray eyes undressing her six times during the five minutes she talked to him. He wasn’t bad looking for an old guy and would be a useful contact, so she’d fluttered her dark lashes back at him and deflected his request for a date with the usual stop kidding around, I’m working line and jumped into the interview with that asshole K. Dollavera. At least Riz hadn’t made a grab for her tits. Exactly why she let Dollavera get under her skin she couldn’t fathom. It wasn’t just that he was a slimy asshole. No doubt it had something to do with the fact that she’d dated (a couple of times) his “brother” Zweep, the Sentient Resources Controller of the family monopoly, the Amalgamated Spaceport Guild of Scavengers. She’d dumped Zweep at the first inkling of his suspicious business dealings. No way could she compromise her journalistic standards by seeing the man at the center of what could be the biggest scandal in Adana history. The fact that she let him go not ten minutes after she met their “brother” Maxim might, she conceded, have had something more to do with it other than being a breathtaking coincidence. Maxim, the New Year’s Eve hero who had risked his life to save others from a terrible disaster, was something special. There was a guy who knew how to boil the juices, and what made him yummier was that he didn’t even know he did it. The thought of Maxim being caught up in a shady family business was giving her sleepless nights. He’d been away, supposedly scavenging, for the last month, more likely avoiding the hundreds of fans attracted to his celebrity, so she hadn’t been able to talk to him about it. Not that they were on speaking terms yet; he probably didn’t know she even existed. I’ll have to change that little detail. If nothing else, her publicly nailing his two brothers would bring her into his orbit soon enough. What worried her was that Maxim seemed smarter than his “brothers,” and even in the brief moments she saw them interact, they seemed to defer to him. Her worst fear was that he was actually in charge of the operation while posing as a loner, supposedly scavenging the asteroid belt for junk. It would be the perfect cover, playing the dirt smeared grunt collecting trash while secretly pulling the strings behind the ’Port Authority. There was a tug at her trouser leg. A grubby face with enormous eyes and a mess of yellow hair looked up and gave her a gap toothed smile. “Hello, sweetie,” Holly said. “Got something for me?” The little angel, one of Adana’s many corridor kids, nodded and cupped a tiny hand near her mouth. Holly knelt down beside her and turned her head, brushing aside her raven hair so the little girl could whisper in her ear. Holly’s heart jumped at the message. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said. “How much?” The girl put up three fingers, indicating there were two others involved in the chain of observers that had brought her this longed-for news. Holly dropped four credits into her small palm and was rewarded with openmouthed astonishment. She always paid more than the going rate. It guaranteed preferment in the Adana rumor mill. So, Maxim Dollavera had returned. He was in customs at this very moment and if she hurried she’d catch him. And then what? She bit her bottom lip and snapped shut her oversized equipment bag. I have no idea, but I’ll think of something. I always do.