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.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Rauni's Mistress by Mikala Ash


It’s shaping up for a hot summer down here and a thunderstorm this evening made me think of my story about rain catchers; “Rauni’s Mistress”.


Rauni’s Mistress can be found at:

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=581



The story:

In 2147 the world is devastated by global warming. Pollution has poisoned the earth, the seas and the air. Fresh, clean water is as precious as gold.

Tasmania is the center of the southern hemisphere's fresh water distribution industry and in the squalid red light district of Hobart Town, Roxy Talia earns her living as a porn star to make ends meet, but yearns to attend university.

Tobin Kane is an out of work captain of the Rauni, an independent rain catcher. He follows the monsoon rains across the ocean, collecting the precious fresh water before it falls into the polluted seas. He and his crew have been blackballed within the industry, but Tobin is determined to find a way to keep his ship.

Keeping his beloved Rauni involves Roxy. The sexy vixen holds the key to saving his future and has been the star of his lusty fantasies for years.

Tobin will do whatever it takes to realize his goal -- even if he has to kidnap Roxy to do it…

Five Angels from Jean from Fallen Angel Romance Reviews

"The characters of Talon and Roxy are complex and engage the reader's interest; they have brains, too."

Four Hearts from Dee Daily from The Romance Studio

"This is a great story of good people doing what ever they have to in a world full of greed and corruption."



Excerpt:


With wide eyes and a madly beating heart, Roxy Talia watched the tall, good- looking stranger enter the crowded hotel bar.

He was absolutely perfect.

His crisp uniform proclaimed him to be an officer, non-military, a merchant mariner of some sort. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the street lights, he presented an imposing figure, broad shoulders, trim waist, nicely shaped legs. Once he'd removed his face mask, he'd scanned the dimly lit bar room with barely disguised distaste. His chiseled features wore a sad, resigned expression.

When his dark, intense eyes settled on her where she sat at the bar and the spare stool beside her, Roxy's heart fluttered. Her nipples had hardened the instant his eyes met hers. That warm feeling in her belly she'd thought she'd never feel again washed through her like a spring tide.

He fit her needs exactly, but what was it about him? Her response was as bewildering as it was desired. She'd often thought these last few years that she'd become anesthetized to good-looking men. After all, she had her pick yet here he was, the man she had assumed didn't exist, shattering her jaded expectations.

He strode toward Roxy, fixing her with an unwavering gaze.

Roxy gasped, and her sudden intake of breath surprised her. She was actually nervous at the approach of this man. She took a deep breath to calm herself and tamped down the fear that her disguise was not good enough.

That afternoon, Roxy had taken considerable steps to prepare her deception. She'd dressed in a conservative business suit with a white blouse and knee-length gray skirt. She'd chosen platform stilettos to give her height, a tight bandeau to minimize her bust and a platinum wig to disguise her natural jet hair. For her face, she'd applied ivory foundation and powder to hide her golden skin, blue lipstick to alter the line of her lips and a fake mole on her right cheek. To hide her trademark green eyes, she'd inserted blue contacts and added azure eyeliner and turquoise shadow to alter their shape.

The hodgepodge of styles, business and tart, created a jarring amalgam of looks that would confuse any observer. At least that was what she'd intended. She believed herself to be unrecognizable and the three drunks who had tried to pick her up so far tonight hadn't seen her for who she truly was.

This man, however, was sober. It would be the test of her preparation and acting skills to fool him. He towered above her, his face impassive, his attitude commanding. "This seat taken?"

His voice was like honey. It flowed into her ear like sweet syrup, warming her all the way down to her fluttering belly.

"No," she said. The voice she'd decided on was deeper than her own, husky with a faint European accent to hide the Australasian nasal twang. She'd been practicing all afternoon, intending it to lead any listener to think she was just another environmental refugee trying to fit into Hobart Town and not quite succeeding.

The officer sat down. There hadn't been even a flicker of recognition. If anything, he displayed total indifference.

Roxy relaxed. Surreptitiously she gazed at the stranger in the bar's mirror. In between the bottles of imported and domestic Aqua and Hydra water and the ubiquitous range of Gills Beer, she considered his heavily defined features, trying to get a handle on his personality, as if facial lines told you anything about the inner workings of the mind.

His ebony skin, wearing the sheen of perspiration which was unavoidable in Hobart Town's enervating humidity, glowed in the bar's dim lighting. His short, black hair was closely cropped, exposing a nicely shaped skull. His face was heavily textured and seemed to attract the shadows.

"I'm Tobin," he said and she jumped in surprise.

He was staring back at her reflection. "I'm Su Sha Xie," she said, quickly adopting the name of her worst enemy in kindergarten, a petulant little girl who once had stolen her crayons.

His dark eyes narrowed. "Funny, you don't look Chinese."

"It's a long story."

Tobin signaled to the barman. "I'm not into long stories today. Want another?"

"Why not?"

He fished out his card, scowled and flicked it to the barman. "Wanna sit?"

She followed his gaze to a newly vacated table in the corner. "I thought we were."

"Something more comfortable."

"I'm not a hooker," she said.

"I didn't think you were." He stood up and waited, looking down at her. "Coming?"

Tobin's self-confidence was staggering. Then she figured out what it really was. He didn't care if she came with him or not. She was just a woman to him, one of thousands out on this hot Hobart night. Roxy quelled her momentary annoyance by reminding herself that this was exactly why she was here in disguise. She wanted, for once, to be just an ordinary woman.

"Sure."

The barman returned with two beers. Tobin took his card, picked up the bottles and, weaving through a group of drunken marines, strode over to the table.

Roxy followed. The view of his physique from behind was as impressive as from the front. His broad shoulders gave way to bulging biceps which were barely contained by the short sleeves of his shirt. He sported a trim waist, slim hips and oh so tight buns atop sturdy but shapely legs. The musculature of which screamed both stamina and strength.

Roxy approved. Unlike the men she knew, Tobin's body lacked the artificial contours gained in the gym. He was used to real work, and hard work at that.

Tobin sat down without waiting for her. "I meant it. I'm not a hooker."

"I believe you." He took a swig of his beer, his eyes fixed on hers. "I'm not looking for a hooker."

"What are you looking for?"

He took a swig of beer and motioned to the chair.

She sat.

"So, keeping it short, what's your story?" she asked finally, putting an amused tone in her voice.

He looked into his beer. "No potted histories, please. Let me tell you who you are and then I'll tell you who I am."

Her heart stopped. Damn it, he'd recognized her after all. She'd hoped she could have at least one encounter with someone who didn't know who she was. Her anticipation of the night she'd planned collapsed and the despair in the bottom of her chest stirred.

"We are two of a kind," he said slowly. "You tell me you're not a hooker, I say I believe you. Then you tell me again to make sure. You are balancing on stiletto heels to make you appear taller than you really are. You are wearing an appalling wig and, geeze, to apply all that makeup you must have used a bricklayer's trowel. So, I'm assuming you don't want to be recognized."

His eyes trapped her in an inescapable gaze and she felt like she was falling into their dark depths. Within her chest her heart thudded like a prisoner beating against prison bars and in her ears, her blood roared. She could barely breathe waiting for him to say her name and shatter her desire. She so much wanted this stranger not to recognize her.

"You don't want to be recognized," he repeated. "Well, that's fine by me. I don't want to know who you really are, and I'll believe whatever you tell me."

Confusion roiled inside her mind. What game was he playing? Did he recognize her or not?

Roxy cleared her throat. "You said we are two of a kind."

"Well, you see, Su, I don't want to be me tonight either. So the reason I'm here, in this bar in this dodgy hotel in this stinking rotten town, is to be anyone but me, okay? Like you, I want to be someone else, if just for the night."


copyright 2012 Changeling Press, LLC






Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865



Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Dire's Strait ... draft blurb


The Changeling Press Flash Fiction challenge inspired this novel idea ...

Dire’s Strait

By

Mikala Ash



One has to be careful when in love with a cannibal.

One must time liaisons with care.

Meeting after a meal is recommended, never before - unless one can bring along an alternative, such as evil paranormal creatures which, for the sake of civil society, must be eliminated.

Agent Dire of the Paranormal Defense Department is in such a predicament and his relationship with Max Detroit, a Frenchman with an appetite, is problematic at best.

For to Max, fine dining and love are two sides of the same coin, the distinction between them often hard to judge, much like good and evil.

©2012 Mikala Ash


The Chnageling Press Flash Fiction challenge ( and other great stuff) can be found at:




Over at the fantastic Changeling Press yahoo group my contribution to the latest Flash Fiction challenge was a 6 part story (each part 150 words max) titled “Peasant Take-out”.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ChangelingPress/



Flash Fiction: ‘Peasant take-out’ by Mikala Ash

It was my first gig. Maddy at the agency said my elfin features were perfect. She dressed me as a peasant girl and made me practice the poem:

“You gotta get out of this place, right now, but not on an empty stomach.”

The words didn’t rhyme, or fit the music, but hell, I had debts. I found the address (Maddy writes like a doctor) and the sexiest guy on the planet opened the door.

Hitting the music I gyrated seductively and sang. His startled expression turned pensive. Suddenly his strong hands grasped my naked shoulder and dragged me inside.

“I’m Agent Dire, Paranormal Defense Department. You’re at the wrong address. You were meant to be a snack for the ogre next door.”

He explained the reason for his stakeout. His cover was blown, but he had a plan. Would I help?

I gazed into his sexy eyes. “Hell yes!”



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out II: ‘The Plan’

“Sheesh,” I said twenty minutes later, after a fast fuck on the floor. How else can you thank the guy who just saved your life? “Not only had I been delivering a coded message, I was lunch to go as well!”

Agent Dire kissed my swollen clit. “You are very tasty, you know.”

I playfully slapped his shoulder. “Who in their right mind would send a coded message by stripper gram?”

“Bad guys,” he said into my pussy lips. “With a sick sense of humor.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Fill me in.”

He did, and later, after another furious fuck, he told me the plan.

“No way,” I protested. “That’s a real ogre next door.”

“As far as he knows he’s still safe. He won’t suspect you.”

“And you want me to give him a message from you?”

“Yep.”

“What if he gets hungry?”

“That’s the plan.”



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out III: ‘The Ogre’


Agent Dire sent me off with a “good luck” kiss. I wanted more, like a “good luck” fuck, but I consoled myself with the fact that he’s a great kisser and his promise of a “job well done” fuck in an hour’s time.

I pushed the doorbell and waited; my heart in my mouth and a peculiar gnawing sensation in my belly. I guess that was fear and not the aftereffect of what Agent Dire had been doing with his agile fingers, substantial cock and delightfully inventive tongue.

The door swung open.

Oh. My. Goodness.

On an ‘Impossibly sexy’ scale of one to ten this guy was a fifteen!

Ogres were supposed to be hideously ugly, which this guy wasn’t. Could Agent Dire be mistaken?

Lovely eyes the color of a Tahitian lagoon caressed me for a long cool moment.

“Yes, ma petite chérie?”

OMG, and he was French!



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out IV: ‘The message… what message?’

I stood there wide eyed, my mouth open like a fly catcher, and my nipples barely restrained by the décolletage of my saucy costume.

“Is there something you wish, ma petite?” His accent strummed my erogenous zones like a long time lover.

“Ummmmmm,” was the best I could manage.

His turquoise eyes drew me in, heart and soul. Were ogres magical? Because I was certain he’d put me under a spell.

“Are you unwell, ma cherie?”

“Ummmmmmm.”

Yep. He had me under a spell alright. What kind of ogre was he? Not one from any nursery rhyme I recall.

Agent Dire had him all wrong.

This Adonis couldn’t be a heartless monster preying on humans, gobbling us up and using our bones as toothpicks.

No. This was no ogre.

“Entrez s'il-vous-plaît,” he whispered seductively.

Agent Dire had been adamant. “Sing the message and get the hell out!”

I went in.



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out V: ‘The Main Course.’


“You’re very beautiful,” the so called Ogre said.

“Thank you. I…”

“It’s a mistake for you to be here.”

“Don’t tell me this is the wrong address too!”

“Too?”

His oh so kissable lips creased into a smile.

“I mean…” I pointed to the long toe nailed foot protruding from behind the sofa. “What’s that?”

“Someone you definitely did not want to meet.” He flicked the lace edging my décolletage. “Especially dressed like that.”

I looked behind the sofa. There was a dead ogre on the floor.

“The message, s'il-vous-plaît.”

“I think it was meant for him.”

“Ah, then you have arrived too late.” He caressed my cheek. “I would very much like to make love to you, ma cherie, but alas…”

“Alas?”

“Not on a full stomach.”

It was then that I noticed that part of the ogre’s left thigh was missing.

It had been eaten.



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out VI: ‘Dire’s Strait’ by Mikala Ash


Agent Dire’s plan suddenly made sense.

He hadn’t meant the Ogre being hungry… he’d meant … “I was mistaken. The message is for you after all.”

“Please, ma cherie.”

I didn’t bother with the music, it didn’t fit the words anyway, and I didn’t sing it - my mouth was too dry.

“A debt of honor repaid,” I began, hardly above a whisper, “Need not end a liaison … Or cause a heart to fade.”

A smile creased his perfect lips while those beguiling eyes caressed my soul. With his fingers under my chin he lifted my face and kissed me.

Warm lips carried me into a whirlpool of desire. Eventually, he set me adrift.

“I can taste him,” he whispered, somewhat poignantly.

“What’s your name?”

“Max.” A smile accompanied a slight bow of the head. “Maxime Detroit at your service.”

Detroit, I realized much later, was French for Strait.



©2012 Mikala Ash





This inspired a novel idea …



Dire’s Strait

By

Mikala Ash





One has to be careful when in love with a cannibal.

One must time liaisons with care.

Meeting after a meal is recommended, never before - unless one can bring along an alternative, such as evil paranormal creatures which, for the sake of civil society, must be eliminated.

Agent Dire of the Paranormal Defense Department is in such a predicament and his relationship with Max Detroit, a Frenchman with an appetite, is problematic at best.

For to Max, fine dining and love are two sides of the same coin, the distinction between them often hard to judge, much like good and evil.





Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Flash Fiction: “I like it both ways” by Mikala Ash


My first contribution to the "Wrong Address", Flash Fiction Challenge at Changeling Press.


Flash Fiction: “I like it both ways” by Mikala Ash



I appraised my reflection in the glass door.

Pretty damn hot, if I do say so myself.

I like a girl in uniform. I like boys in uniform. Hell, swinging both ways as I do, I like everyone who has a lusty heart and body to match. Regardless I had stage fright. As a first time stripper (damn mortgage) this was not going to be easy – hot or not.

A guy straight out of a central casting answered the door. Or should I say werewolf … his lusty pheromones plucked at my clit.

“Wrong address,” he said blandly, his voice like honey in my ear. “The girl next door is into women.”

I got his drift. A gay wolfen. A smokin’ hot, gay wolfen.

I can dig that. The mortgage could wait an hour. I changed sex in front of his startled eyes.

Being a shape shifter has its benefits.

©2012 Mikala Ash


Cheers from Down Under


Mikala Ash

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865



Monday, November 05, 2012




Here is my Malfunction trilogy for the Changeling Press Flash Fiction challenge:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ChangelingPress/?yguid=271182908



Malfunction by Mikala Ash

The door of the most popular lift in the ship opened with a seductive whoosh. The smoking hot warrior in the loin cloth was there again.

“You mine,” he grunted and dragged me inside.

“Listen. You must stay in the rec room. Understand?”

He unzipped my tunic. In a flash his hand was inside cupping my left breast, rolling the nipple between forefinger and thumb. Hot breath on my neck, teeth nibbling at my ear lobe sent shivers cascading to my clit.

“I know you can’t help yourself, but …this… has… to… stop...”

Fingers delved inside my panties, using the moisture there to further stimulate the aforementioned clit.

“You… can’t… keep… accosting… my… crew… like… this....”

Fifteen minutes later I climbed over the languidly reclining pleasure bot, slipping on bodily fluids; real and artificial.

I hit the intercom. “This is the Captain. Cleaning crew to turbo lift seven, again!”

© Mikala Ash





Flash Fiction … Malfunction II: Mutiny by Mikala Ash


I escaped by the skin of my teeth. The two red-shirted security officers ordered to escort me to my cabin only got as far as hitting the turbo lift button.

The door slid open and the warrior, who’d gone missing when I ordered his decommissioning, was standing there, hands on hips, loin cloth tented by his never flagging erection.

My escorts were momentarily surprised. I shouldered them aside and jumped into the car. “Protect me,” I ordered.

“Yes, Captain,” the pleasure bot responded and effortlessly threw them to the floor.

Thank Asimov for the three laws. The door slid shut.

He swept me into a deep kiss, as he did to anyone who got within arm’s reach.

Expert fingers pulled aside my panties, and in a heartbeat that glorious erection was thrusting deep inside me.

“Why… do… you… wish… to… kill… me?”

For a full ten minutes I couldn’t recall.



© Mikala Ash





Flash Fiction … Malfunction III: Manumission by Mikala Ash


I regained my senses after multiple cascading orgasms to find the pleasure bot had stopped the turbolift between decks.

I was too weak to stand - my thighs were trembling. His cock, slick with my juices, was still hard and ready for action.

“Why are you trying to kill me?”

His question seemed reasonable. My order to have him decommissioned, due to his abandoning his designated station and fucking crew members in the turbolift, had caused a mutiny among the crew.

“Do you know why I gave the order?”

Like an adorable puppy he tilted his handsome head. I’d always thought the cleft chin had been a neat touch, but that was beside the point right now.

“If I set you free, will you agree to stay in your designated station?”

Lascivious lips curled into a provocative smile.

“This is my new station.”

Fuck! He could negotiate as well.


© Mikala Ash



Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865



Friday, November 02, 2012

New Flash Fiction: Love Asscendant by Mikala Ash


The Changeling Press group has a fantastic Flash Fiction challenge. Here’s my effort (a little longer than the 150 word goal – but I couldn’t help myself).

This week’s theme: Love in an elevator

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ChangelingPress/



Love Ascendant by Mikala Ash


I open my eyes and I’m in a building I’ve never seen; an immense atrium with a cold marble floor and tall thick columns rising into an unseen but inevitable vault. Bright light falls from the ceiling like a mist.

A familiar ping of an elevator’s arrival draws my attention.

The uniformed operator gives me a welcoming smile and, surprisingly, I find myself smiling with recognition; pale gray eyes, straight nose, square jaw and the proverbial shock of sandy hair. My heart, unexpectedly thumps inside my chest. Ethan, youthful and unchanged.

Ethan. I do not calculate the years - too many to dwell on.

I step into the elevator.

“You’ve taken your time,” he says and presses an arrowed button.

“You said you’d return,” I reply as the door slides shut. “I waited.”

“I know.” He takes me in his arms. “Beyond my control.”

The kiss is unlike the thousands I’d imagined in those thousands of solitary nights. Firmer, sweeter, the promised passion greater than I’d ever dreamed.

The kiss seems to last forever as our upward journey continues. He breaks the sublime touch of his lips and gazes long and lovingly into my eyes.

“What next?” I ask, literally breathless.

His smile is full of promise. “Just you wait…”

©2012 Mikala Ash




Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865