Stranded with the Cyborg
(A Cy-Ops Sci-fi Romance)
by Cara Bristol
Blurb:
Ten years ago Penelope Isabella Aaron had been a pain in Brock Mann’s you-know-what. Much has changed in a decade: “PIA” as he code-named her, has grown up and is about to attend her first Alliance of Planets summit conference, and Brock was transformed into a cyborg after a near-fatal attack. Now a secret agent with Cyber Operations, a covert paramilitary organization, Brock gets called in, not when the going gets tough, but when the going gets impossible. So when he’s unexpectedly assigned to escort Penelope to the summit meeting, he balks at babysitting a prissy ambassador. But after a terrorist bombing, a crash landing on a hostile planet, and a growing attraction to his protectee, Operation: PIA may become his most impossible assignment yet.
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Excerpt
“What was so urgent it couldn’t wait until I got back from Darius 4?” Brock flung himself into the wide
sensa-chair, which conformed to the angles and lines of his body to provide optimal support and
comfort. He would have preferred an android pleasure worker fit her realistic feminine form around him
rather than a piece of furniture—as he’d been about to experience when the Cyber Operations
director’s summons had come through. “You’re the one who insisted I take respite time.”
“Drink?” Carter punched a button on his console, a cabinet slid open, and he removed a decanter. After
pouring two shots of bronze liqueur, he shoved one across the desk.
Brock’s internal warning system flashed an alert. “What’s the bad news?”
“Why do you assume that?”
“Whenever you break out the Cerinian brandy, you’re either trying to butter me up or soften the blow.”
He eyed the man who’d been his friend since they’d served together in the Terran Central Protection
Office thirteen years ago. Carter’s blank expression betrayed nothing, but the brandy sang like a yellow
songbird.
The director knocked back his shot then thumped his chest with his fist. Cerinian brandy went down
smooth until the afterburn lit your throat on fire. Or it did to one who was unaltered. Brock swallowed
his and felt only slight warmth.
“I have an assignment for you,” Carter said, his voice hoarse from the liqueur. “The Association of
Planets Summit is on Malodonus next week. There’s been a threat against…the Terran ambassador.” He
hesitated like he expected Brock to short-circuit a computer chip.
After five years without a day off, Brock had been ordered to take R & R or be reassigned to desk duty.
His irritation with the edict had been relieved somewhat when he’d arrived at the Darius 4 pleasure
resort and discovered the android sex workers were almost lifelike.
First Carter told him to go then he recalled him. Brock wouldn’t blow any gaskets, but he was irked. Quit
jerking me around. “What government official hasn’t received a threat? It’s part of the job. What’s so
special about this case?” He shifted in the sensa-chair so its fingers could massage his lower spine.
“According to intel, Lamis-Odg is involved.”
Lamis-Odg had contributed nothing significant or positive toward the advancement of society in
thousands of years yet opposed the AOP’s goal to draw the peoples of the galaxy into an alliance.
Historically, the backwater planet had been more bluster than bite but, in recent years, had resorted to
terrorism to intimidate its adversaries.
Brock flexed his right hand. “How certain is the threat?”
sensa-chair, which conformed to the angles and lines of his body to provide optimal support and
comfort. He would have preferred an android pleasure worker fit her realistic feminine form around him
rather than a piece of furniture—as he’d been about to experience when the Cyber Operations
director’s summons had come through. “You’re the one who insisted I take respite time.”
“Drink?” Carter punched a button on his console, a cabinet slid open, and he removed a decanter. After
pouring two shots of bronze liqueur, he shoved one across the desk.
Brock’s internal warning system flashed an alert. “What’s the bad news?”
“Why do you assume that?”
“Whenever you break out the Cerinian brandy, you’re either trying to butter me up or soften the blow.”
He eyed the man who’d been his friend since they’d served together in the Terran Central Protection
Office thirteen years ago. Carter’s blank expression betrayed nothing, but the brandy sang like a yellow
songbird.
The director knocked back his shot then thumped his chest with his fist. Cerinian brandy went down
smooth until the afterburn lit your throat on fire. Or it did to one who was unaltered. Brock swallowed
his and felt only slight warmth.
“I have an assignment for you,” Carter said, his voice hoarse from the liqueur. “The Association of
Planets Summit is on Malodonus next week. There’s been a threat against…the Terran ambassador.” He
hesitated like he expected Brock to short-circuit a computer chip.
After five years without a day off, Brock had been ordered to take R & R or be reassigned to desk duty.
His irritation with the edict had been relieved somewhat when he’d arrived at the Darius 4 pleasure
resort and discovered the android sex workers were almost lifelike.
First Carter told him to go then he recalled him. Brock wouldn’t blow any gaskets, but he was irked. Quit
jerking me around. “What government official hasn’t received a threat? It’s part of the job. What’s so
special about this case?” He shifted in the sensa-chair so its fingers could massage his lower spine.
“According to intel, Lamis-Odg is involved.”
Lamis-Odg had contributed nothing significant or positive toward the advancement of society in
thousands of years yet opposed the AOP’s goal to draw the peoples of the galaxy into an alliance.
Historically, the backwater planet had been more bluster than bite but, in recent years, had resorted to
terrorism to intimidate its adversaries.
Brock flexed his right hand. “How certain is the threat?”
About the Author
Multi-published, Cara Bristol is the author of more than 20 erotic romance titles. She writes science fiction romance, contemporary romance, paranormal, and spanking romance. No matter what the subgenre, one thing remains constant: her emphasis on character-driven seriously hot erotic stories with sizzling chemistry between the hero and heroine. Cara has lived many places in the United States, but currently lives in Missouri with her husband. She has two grown stepkids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading and traveling.
You can find Cara at
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