Product Description

RIDDING THE WORLD OF EVIL,

ONE ALIEN AT A TIME.

In a time and place not too far away, Mia Snow is an alien huntress for the New Chicago Police Department, and she's the perfect girl for the job. Tough and sexy, she's earned each of her scars battling the elusive enemy among us. Now, investigating a series of killings, she is shaken to the core when a burst of violence leaves her partner Dallas fighting for his life. A tall, erotic stranger holds the power to heal the injured agent -- and to bind Mia in an electrifying and dangerous seduction. He is Kyrin en Arr, of the deadly Arcadian species -- an alien, a murder suspect -- who has Mia walking a knife's edge, risking her badge and even her life. . . and edging closer to a shocking revelation that will shatter everything she's ever believed.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #15289 in Books
• Published on: 2006-02-28
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 384 pages

From Booklist
It's sometime in the future, and aliens have been residents on Earth for more than 70 years. Enter Mia Snow, head of the New Chicago Police Department's Alien Investigation and Removal Agency, as she and her crack crew try to solve the latest string of extraterrestrially induced murders. This particular killer favors handsome young men with dark hair and dark eyes. Mia knows that the culprit is one of the dreaded Arcadians, the most clever and deadly species of all. However, when her second-in-command--and best friend--Dallas Gutierrez is mortally wounded, and only Arcadian Kyrin en Arr, the prime murder suspect, holds the key to his survival, Mia has to make a hard choice between her ethics as a cop and her love for her friend. To make matters worse, she is physically attracted to Kyrin, and suddenly, her black-and-white world has gone all swirly gray. Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Alien Nation in this action-packed adventure, and Mia Snow is perfect as the alien hunter with a secret. Shelley Mosley
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Review
"Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Alien Nation in this action-packed adventure."-- Booklist

"Mia Snow is perfect as the alien hunter with a secret."-- Booklist

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Midnight. The witching hour, some say. Since it was 12:07 A.M. and I was standing over a dead body, I had to agree.

The victim, William H. Steele, a thirty-six-year-old Caucasian male, six feet four, approximately two hundred and thirty pounds, brown hair, brown eyes, lay naked across a bed of crisp winter leaves. Moonlight spilled in every direction, and withered foliage mockingly framed his muscular physique. He bore no open wounds, no bruises. In fact, not a single blemish marred the perfection of his skin. He was only recently dead; heat still radiated from him and curled into the icy night sky.

Alien Investigation and Removal agents, also known as A.I.R., were scouring the area, meticulously searching between every blade of brittle grass, every grain of dirt. The faint murmurs of their chatter echoed in my ears. I tuned them out and intensified my focus on the body. The man's legs were slightly spread and bent at the knees. One of his hands rested behind his head, and the other was bound to his penis with a -- what the hell was that? I crouched down. Eyes narrowed, I reached out with a gloved hand and slid one finger under the material. A pale blue ribbon, tied in a perfect bow.

I scowled. Was he supposed to be a gift?

Yes. Yes, that's exactly what he was, I realized, my scowl deepening. Frost gleamed in his hair like diamonds against dark velvet, yet he hadn't been outside long enough to acquire the frost from nature. He was a gift that had been posed to look carnal, seductive. Alluring. To the average citizen, he would have appeared eager for a long night of sexual gratification.

To me, he just looked like the corpse that he was.

His eyes were fixed straight ahead, his lips slightly blue, and he wasn't shivering from the cold. A dead giveaway, if you will. Besides that, his testicles were as smooth and shiny as marble, not shriveled like I supposed every other man's out here were.

With a wry shake of my head, I pushed to my feet.

Perhaps my assessment was callous and indifferent; perhaps my humor was misplaced. Dead bodies were the norm in my line of work, and I couldn't allow myself to view this man as an actual person. If I did, I'd have to acknowledge that he once had hopes and dreams, thoughts and feelings. I'd cry for the family he left behind, wonder about the life that had once pulsed through his veins.

I couldn't do that and still hope to function. With tears came distraction, and with distraction came death. My first year of fieldwork, I had spent more time crying for victims than hunting for their killers, and I had almost become a victim myself. I glanced down at my wrist. The inky blackness of my glove didn't quite meet the cuff of my jacket, leaving a small patch of skin visible. That skin boasted a tattoo of the Grim Reaper's scythe and was just one of my many reminders to remain unemotional.

I'd gotten the tattoo after recovering from a nasty beating, courtesy of a pissed-off other-worlder. While I'd been lost in my grief for a victim I couldn't even remember now, an energy-absorbing Rycan attacked me from behind -- and kicked major huntress ass.

I had vowed never to cry again. And I hadn't. Tears were a weakness only civilians could afford.

I am an alien huntress. I am part of the A.I.R. team, working with or against the New Chicago PD -- whichever suits me at the time. Every night I stalk and kill other-worlders, and whether I'm investigating a death or causing one myself, I have to shove sentiment aside, find humor where I can, and concentrate on the facts.

I love my job despite the blood and gore -- or maybe because of it. I love solving puzzles, fitting each piece of evidence together. I love that one by one, I'm ridding Earth of our unwanted visitors.

Yes, some aliens are peaceful and are allowed to live and work among us. Those, I leave alone. But the others? The rapists, the thieves, the killers? I despise them.

Alien sympathizers often ask me if I, a hunter, a legalized killer, live with guilt. My answer: Hell, no. Why should I feel guilty for destroying a predator? I'm proud of my work. I'm privileged to do what I do. Other-worlders who survive on human carnage deserve the sting of my pyre-gun.

A glacial blast of wind whirled past my shoulders, scattering a thin sheen of snow powder in every direction. The hem of my long black leather jacket danced around my calves. Four inches of snow had been predicted, so I needed to work quickly. Twenty minutes ago, I'd received a call from my boss, Commander Jack Pagosa. He'd briefed me on the situation. He'd also informed me I had until morning to present him with a suspect, or I would spend the next year behind a desk.

William Steele, a happily married father of one, had been abducted from his home four weeks prior. His wife and newborn child slept peacefully throughout the entire ordeal, unharmed and unaware. Abductor's point of entry: undetermined.

Four other dark-haired, dark-eyed men disappeared soon afterward. One had been taken from his workplace, and two had been snatched straight from a crowded street during their lunch hour. Oddly enough, there had been no witnesses and not a single shred of evidence left behind at any scene. Because of the enigmatic nature of each disappearance, aliens were the prime suspect.

Just half an hour earlier, a hunter on patrol had found Steele in this deserted Southern District field. Thankfully, the hunter had preserved the scene until my team arrived. The first thing I'd noticed was that Steele's body showed no indication of torture, no sign of having been restrained.

Second, I'd realized his death had nothing to do with impulse or rage -- just as I knew the murder had nothing to do with stupidity or amusement. The scene was too precise, too perfectly planned. Mr. Steele had been killed for a reason.

What? I couldn't yet fathom.

I drew in a deep breath -- and stilled. Slowly, I drew in three more breaths. As I exhaled the last, I smiled. Since the first kidnapping, no one had dared guess which of the forty-eight alien species were responsible, but I had just narrowed it down to three.

The victim had been killed by poison. Onadyn, to be exact. A deoxygenating drug used by the Zi Karas, Arcadians, and Mecs for survival on this planet. They couldn't breathe our air without it. To oxygen-breathers, the substance was lethal. Worse, it was virtually undetectable. Virtually, but not completely. A rare few could identify Onadyn by its scent, a subtle fragrance similar to a dewy breeze during a summer storm.

I was one of the rare few, and I smelled it now. The scent filled my nostrils, intoxicating and sweet, as lovely as it was deadly, and somehow suddenly more obvious to me than the scent of waste, rotting food, and charred leaves that made up so much of this domain. My observation wasn't as solid as a neon sign blinking over the killer's head that read i did it in bold red letters, but it did point us in the right direction.

Still, I wanted more.

I scanned the area to my right, paused, then scanned the area to my left. Except for the occasional twinkle from regulation halolights, the task force blended into the night.

I dragged my focus farther back, taking in the tall oaks that knifed the sky. The trees were sparsely scattered, their branches naked, their bark weighed down by dripping ice. Situated between the trees were homes and businesses. I use the term businesses loosely, of course. Nice people referred to this seedy, neglected district as Whore's Corner. I'd once been fined for publicly saying what I called the place.

Had any of the residents seen anything unusual? Would they tell us if they had?

I'd already dispatched the most charming of my agents to question every citizen within a one-mile radius. But this late at night, civilians tended to be cranky and distrustful. Besides that, the Southern District was notorious for its hatred of law enforcement -- human or otherwise.

"What do you think, Mia?" Dallas Gutierrez, my right-hand man, strode to my side. He wore a black leather jacket and black combat boots that fit the hard planes of his body to perfection. At times, I thought he was too handsome to be real. His hair was dark and thick, and the inky locks hung in sexy disarray over the wide, muscled length of his shoulders. Perfect eyebrows arched over perfectly shaped eyes. Perfect cheekbones framed a perfect nose.

For some reason, he was smiling -- revealing perfect white teeth, the bastard -- yet even as the brown depths of his eyes glinted with mischief, he still possessed the razor-sharp edge of a hunter.

I admired him for that.

On more than one occasion, Dallas Gutierrez had flipped Death the bird and come out alive. He was a man who rushed into the middle of danger without hesitation. He considered his friends' safety before he considered his own, and he never regretted his choice, even when he lay wounded and bleeding. He'd saved my life so many times, I should have tattooed his name on my ass.

"What do you think?" he repeated. "Which group of aliens is responsible?"

"Zi Karas, Arcadians, or Mecs."

A little of the sparkle left his eyes. "You sure?"

I tossed him an are-you-kidding-me frown. "Can a woman lose one hundred and seventy-five pounds of unwanted fat by divorcing her husband?"

"Damn." He chuckled, the sound rich and husky in the twilight. "No wonder you're still single. You're vicious."

Damn right I was. I had to be. I was a woman in a man's profession, and just because I carried a pyre-gun did not mean I was taken seriously. Not even Dallas had taken me seriously at first.

His first week on the job, he fought to have me relocated. "Women aren't hunters," he'd said so many times I wanted to brand the words on his chest -- while he was awake and tied to his bed.

I stand at five feet five, weigh one hundred and twenty pounds. I'm only twenty-eight years old, but I have an indomitable will. I do not take shit from anyone, especially when it comes to my job. The first time Dallas and I practiced hand-to-hand combat, I had him on the groun...

Customer Reviews

Cranky brat + creepy alien = true love
Futuristic cop Mia Snow, has all the charm of waking up to find a scorpion in your boot. She's a mean, foul-mouthed brat, who lives for killing aliens. She supposedly is "the job". There's just enough of an abusive childhood thrown in to explain her temper tantrums and all-encompassing anger. The book opens when she's on a new murder case.

Kyrin is an alien alpha male, and a suspect for a short time. He's way too into his own sister, but that doesn't stop him from falling in "twuu wuvv" with Mia, even as she's kicking the snot out of him. He has his revenge though, when he takes her captive and seduces her in a way that's only endearing to serial killers.

Mia and Kyrin get over their differences after a hot alien romp in the hay, and decide to take out the evil Alien Queen Mum (for lack of a better term). AQM, is the most powerful alien around. No one's ever been able to take her, until now!

Step up Mary Sue/Mia, who just happens to be as powerful or moreso than AQM! Whoa!

Replace alien, with vampire, werewolf, elf, or any assortment of paranormal romance cliches, and there'd be no difference in how this book reads.

Eve Dallas would eat Mia Snow for breakfast.


Pass on this one.

OK
This book was just OK to my senses. I really liked Savor Me Slowly, glad I read the last book first or I might not have gone back and read the beginning of the series. The Heroine Mia was just too much, too much I think she was too macho (yes macho) and their was not enough of the Hero (Kyrin) he had a lot of potential. The ending was disappointing as it did not quite flow with the rest of the story and the multiple story lines got lost. But I liked the later books in the series better, this was good to read for backstory.

Flirty and fun but not much more.
What's a gal to do, when her BFF and partner gets practically blown away while working a case that involves bounded and mutilated human men with an MO of dark hair and eyes; a possible renegade alien species, the Arcadians; the surfacing of strange abilities within herself; AND lusts after an alien male that could be behind it all? Well. Agent Mia Snow, of A.I.R, has just the right solution. She'll kick, punch and swear then kill her way to victory, and makes no apologies for it.

In a world where aliens have made contact with earthlings, and the setting futuristic, with pyre-guns, cars that drive themselves, voice DNA technology that can track anyone just by recording their voice, and synthetic coffee, you just don't know what to expect. Because Showalter keeps things both imaginative yet makes sure to keep most of it down to earth and current, it's not at all uncomfortable or strange. Just interesting and didn't come off silly.

Showalter does a good job of balancing how much to tell and how much not to as well as how strange to make it. She only gives as much as it's going to help the plotting of her story with none of the fat. And it's quite an easy read, for the most part.

The first half is so interesting because I've never read a paranormal book that also part sci-fi. But the investigation-mystery part dragged on, scenes included or extended to bring Kyrin en Arr, the possible suspect, and Mia together and to get us to know them. By the second half, it's so dialogue filled, and just too long and meandering, it does little to help move the plot along. There are several mediocre fighting scenes, a love scene that was okay and flat secondary characters--not that she gave them that much attention anyways. But they did their jobs well enough. This type of book is like sugar, so it's should have gone down pretty easy, but by the last quarter, I was caring less and less, especially when she had a few big surprises that I wasn't expecting.

Despite my misgiving, Showalter does have talent to tell a story, and to construct a world that was consistent, with some interesting surprises though plotting was okay at best. What happens in later chapters is backed up by things that happened or were said, observed, and thought in the beginning, so kudos to her for keeping it together. There is little emotional tug of wars, all of it very surface-level stuff, and characters that fit perfectly into stock molds, but you won't mind too much.

Mia Snow is tough and kills with little regret. She had great wit and candor that was both refreshing and funny, and definitely worth one read. And enough for me to read the next in the series.