Title: Half-Light

Series: The Cassie Tam Files, Book Five

Author: Matt Doyle

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 2, 2020

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 48300

Genre: Science Fiction, LGBTQIA+, genderfluid, interspecies, space opera, space travel, third gender

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Synopsis

With Angel Tanner, the android that runs California’s criminal underworld, pulling the strings, PI Cassie Tam finds herself thrust into a conflict with New Hopeland’s biggest and baddest. But working with the murderous AI may be the only way that Cassie can get to the bottom of her home’s greatest mystery: What is New Hopeland City? As she struggles to balance her dealings with allies and enemies alike, Cassie is left with a difficult choice. She has always straddled the line between light and dark. Now, the time to decide which side she’s on is drawing close…if she can figure out which is which.

Excerpt

Half Light Matt Doyle © 2020 All Rights Reserved “Diu.” I look to my right and find a free space to pull the car into. I have a couple of different ringtones on my cell phone, each assigned to give me a clear idea of whether I need—or want—to answer it. This generic-but-far-too-loud melody marks this call as coming from one particular number. Given what day it is, I’ve been expecting to hear from them. The last few days have been spent playing a game that’s essentially the adult equivalent of passing notes in class. I leave a note somewhere, I get another at home, I respond somewhere else. It’s been a pain, and it’s all been leading up to this. “It’s where it leads next I’m worried about.” I steel myself and tap the screen to answer the call. A female voice comes through, dripping with an overacted panic. “Is…is that Cassandra Tam?” I recognise the voice instantly. “It is. Cassie or Caz is fine.” “My name is Anna Welch. I need help, Miss Tam.” I sigh. “Well, that’s what I’m here for. Do you want to discuss this over the phone, or would you rather meet in person?” “In person,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Somewhere neutral would be best. I’m rather paranoid, you see.” “Okay, that’s fine. Where?” “I’ll text you the location.” She hangs up, and the text comes through almost immediately. Once I’ve finished reading it, I can’t help but smile. She wants to meet at an old abandoned warehouse. It’s one I’m familiar with. A few months back, I broke up a dog fight in the same building. During the case, I discovered there’s a secret entrance to the building via an underground network of hallways. That gives me a way to monitor her if I need to. Or a convenient escape route. I hit the speed dial for Lori, and it goes straight to her answering service. After the beep, I say, “Hey, it’s Cassie. I guess you’re driving. Listen, I’ve just had a call from a potential client, and I’m gonna have to go meet with them. I’m still coming, but it may be worth checking what later times there are for the film, just in case this runs long. Anyway. Be with you soon.” I throw my phone onto the passenger seat next to me and pull out into the light traffic of the New Hopeland afternoon. * By the time I reach the warehouse, I’ve already run through a number of different scenarios in my head. None of them ended well, so I’m putting my faith in reality right now. “No fear, Tam, this was a voluntary trip,” I remind myself, and push the main door open. Inside looks the same as it did the last time I was here, minus the boxed area. And people. Frowning, I make my way towards the back of the building and start checking doors. Finally, I spot a far-too-tight black ponytail, illuminated by the screen of a computer. “Welch. Real cute using the surname of the woman you murdered,” I say, just loud enough to make sure she heard it. Angel Tanner spins in her chair towards me and laughs, casually turning her monitor off as she does so. “Now, detective, you know full well Harold did that.” “The way I understand it, it amounts to much the same thing, eh?” I walk into the room and she rises to meet me. When she offers a handshake, I take it on instinct. “Actually, no. The core result is the same, but the point is it wasn’t me. That makes it a very different thing, at least in the eyes of the law. Still, I’m happy you reached out.” “I almost didn’t,” I say and then shake my head. “No, that’s not true. I considered looking for a different way to contact you after I found out our mutual acquaintance was Gary Locke. You could have got in touch any time you wanted.” “Yes, I could have. But I knew talking to Mister Locke would be hard for you after that whole unfortunate incident with your girlfriend and her brother.” “Unfortunate incident?” I reply, my words dripping with a mix of anger and shock. “He tried to kill both of us. And he convinced her brother to take his own life for a cause that wasn’t even real.” “Which is why I did it this way. I needed to know you were serious in your intention. Oh, and the cause was real, I’m certain of that. Or the part Locke cared about was anyway.” I grunt and shake my head. “I didn’t come here to talk about conspiracy theories. You said I wanted to know what’s happening in New Hopeland, and you’re right. You want help to find out the same thing, so I came. Can we please get on with this? I have plans.” She smiles her creepy smile and nods. “You and me both, detective. But that’s fine. Today was more about checking you’re on board than anything. So, this will be our base of operations for the time being. It’s out of the way, and it’s neither used nor monitored, so it’s fit for purpose.” I shrug. “Seems okay. It’s easy enough to get to.” “I should hope so. You’ll be spending a good amount of time here. Now, to business. What I said on the phone wasn’t entirely false; I really do need your help. As you can imagine, I can’t move freely right now, and my links in the city aren’t particularly well suited for certain jobs. Like the one I have for you to do tomorrow.” “Which is?” She pulls an envelope out of her pocket and hands it to me. “This contains a couple of photographs relating to Anna Welch’s case. You’re going to visit Mister Locke at the prison tomorrow morning and question him about them. They contain some gifts for him, a mild drug on one, and a special communicator on the other. You’ll find a corresponding communicator in there, too, along with instructions as to what to do with it. Make sure you read them somewhere cameras can’t see them clearly.” “Great. You know, he wasn’t happy to see me the last time.” “I don’t doubt it. Harold will make sure he plays nice though. I trust you can do the same?” “For now.” “Good enough.” She waves me away and heads back to her computer. “Now, go enjoy yourself. We’ll talk more soon.” Play nicely. Follow orders until you know more. I leave without another word.

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Meet the Author

Matt Doyle is a speculative fiction author from the UK and identifies as pansexual and genderfluid. Matt has spent a great deal of time chasing dreams, a habit which has led to success in a great number of fields. To date, this has included spending ten years as a professional wrestler, completing a range of cosplay projects, and publishing multiple works of fiction. These days, Matt can be found working on multiple novels and stories, blogging about pop culture, and plotting and planning far too many projects.

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Title: Peacemaker

Series: A Dalí Tamareia Novel

Author: E.M. Hamill

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: March 2, 2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 78000

Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, genderfluid, interspecies, space opera, space travel, third gender

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Synopsis

Third-gender operative Dalí Tamareia thought their life as an ambassador ended when they joined a galactic intelligence agency. When they’re yanked out of the field and tapped to negotiate the surrender of deadly bio-engineered warriors who crashed into hostile territory, Dalí is thrust headfirst back into the tumultuous world of galactic diplomacy. Dalí has faced Shontavians before, but not like these. The stranded mercenaries are highly intelligent and have an agenda of their own. Dalí can’t afford to be distracted from the negotiations by their own demons or the presence of a charming diplomat with a mysterious past. As a brewing civil war threatens to derail the entire mission, Dalí must use all their skills to bring this dangerous situation to a peaceful end—but the Shontavians may not be the biggest monsters at the table. Someone is determined to see Dalí and their team dead before they discover the brutal truth hidden in the wreckage.

Excerpt

Peacemaker E.M. Hamill © 2020 All Rights Reserved I keep ending up in labyrinthine mazes. There’s a psychological diagnosis in there, somewhere. On the surface, Bariish displayed its harsh beauty in jagged mountains undulating in parti-colored heaves of red, yellow, and white. But beneath the planet’s landscape lay a hostile, ugly environment. Valuable ore streaked the planet’s crust in tight wires, a coveted material bringing astronomical prices in the open market. Danger lurked in the greed of fellow miners who would just as soon steal the ore someone else coaxed out of the rocky matrix to increase the weight of their own day’s take, and thus the credits received at the end of their stint. Guards maintained a presence in the shaft, but the dark, noisy area contained warrens of tunnels which couldn’t all be patrolled at once. The heat in the mineshaft stifled me. Vibration from the pneumatic hammer pounded my bones as I chiseled out narrow fragments of rare metal and dropped them into a half-full bucket anchored between my boots. Sweat rolled off my back underneath the protective coveralls, burned my eyes behind the goggles I wore, and noise-canceling headgear formed a swamp around my ears. I didn’t look forward to removing any of it. Bitter dust rimed my mouth as I leaned the hammer against the stony wall and dug a water ration out of the deep thigh pocket of my coveralls. Heads-up informatics in my goggles displayed the depth from the surface, the air quality, and the time remaining on my shift. Fifteen minutes, all conditions green. I was ready to get out. The claustrophobic awareness of two kilometers of rock overhead remained a constant companion and pressed as heavily as the still atmosphere in the tunnel. I finished the water and picked up my hammer again. For more than two months, Ziggy and I had been undercover in this illegal mining operation. The first couple of weeks, I did little but register my take with the clerks, go back to our ship on the sandy apron where the rest of the itinerant miners camped, and pick blistered skin off my hands before collapsing into an exhausted coma. The hard physical labor on a planet where gravity was denser than my accustomed Gs proved a new conditioning challenge. My endurance increased each day, but there were limits on the number of hours we were allowed to scrape our take from the mine, and the sound of the warning klaxon brought a sense of relief. Many Nos, Cthash, and Tolkish drifters worked on the day shift: humanoid, oxygen-breathing species like mine, all drawn by the promise of galactic credits, having left their home systems for reasons of their own. I was the only human in the shaft, night or day. The only one in camp at the time. I kept a low profile, but oddities tend to draw attention. I hate it when that happens. A shove to the middle of my back sent me off balance. The powerful excavator danced in an uncontrolled frenzy across the rocks, and I spun, the container of ore threatening to spill. I managed to right it with one heel and shut off the hammer. Two Nos stood behind me, sneering beneath steamed-up goggles and safety helmets. Tracks of sweat traced pale lines against their grime-covered, glacial skin. The taller of the two thrust a quarter-full ore bucket at me and pantomimed I should empty my take into his. I’d seen these assholes before. They’d performed the same act with other workers that week, beating the shit out of anyone who refused. A quick glance around showed no guards close by—not that they would have heard anything over the din of mining activity. I leaned the equipment against the rock wall and capped my ore canister, leaving it inside the alcove where I worked. Empty-handed, I stepped out. My specialized senses can’t help me where the Nos are concerned. They’re flat nulls, a blank broadcast muffling the spread of my empathic nets, but I’ve come to learn from close work with a Nos crewmate all I need to know is written in their body language. Tall guy pointed to my bucket again and then to his. Tense, jerky. The smug, shorter Nos behind him stood in a relaxed, expectant slouch. So, he was the one in charge. I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. What are you going to do about it? Excitement sang through my bloodstream, anticipating a fight. The pain of muscle beginning to shift in response to my changeling hormones remained invisible under my coveralls. The ache between my shoulder blades throbbed in a knot of eager, pent-up energy. The taller Nos shoved his container at the short guy, who calmly took it and stepped back. I used the time to move into the center of the shaft, into the clear space between the magnetic tracks upon which the crew carrier rode. He swung at me. Here we go.

Purchase

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Meet the Author

E.M. Hamill is a nurse by day, sci fi and fantasy novelist by night. She lives in eastern Kansas with her family, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse. She also writes young adult material under the name Elisabeth Hamill. Her first novel, SONG MAGICK, won first place for YA fantasy in the 2014 Dante Rossetti Awards for Young Adult Fiction.

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