Welcome to Eve Langlais!
New York Times and USA Today Bestseller Eve Langlais is a Canadian author who loves to write hot romance. She likes to blame her twisted imagination for her sarcastic sense of humor which tends to heavily influence her stories. She enjoys writing about strong alpha males, and shifters. Lots of big, overprotective shifters that need the right woman to temper their wild side–and unleash the lover. She loves to write, and while she might not always know what her mind is going to come up with next, she does promise it will be fun, probably humorous and most of all romantic, because she believes in a happily ever after.
Places the author may be found on the internet
Author Twitter: @evelanglais
Cyborg Stowaway
Can a cyborg let go of the wife he lost and make a stowaway his bride?
There’s a problem on the Gypsy Moth. Craig ‘Crank’ Abrams has found a stowaway. A tiny one that tucks easily under his chin with the biggest damned eyes he’s ever seen—and a way of tugging at a mechanical heart he thought broken.
Ghwenn has secrets, which is why she’s on the run and hiding. When her enemies catch up to her, she finds an unlikely hero in the cyborg that refuses to hand her over.
This is a stand alone romance with a happily ever after.
You can purchase your copy here!
Ghwenn didn’t immediately reply, still catching her breath and huffing her irritation through the hair that flopped over her face. Her own fault really. She knew it wouldn’t work the moment she tried.
The man was made of steel. Literally, given his cyborg parts.
He certainly seemed to prove it when the blow to his body did nothing and his arm shot out to block her before she could slip out the door.
As she sat on her haunches, pride and posterior bruised, she watched as freedom slid shut in front of her face.
“I asked where you were going.” His voice emerged low and controlled.
“Somewhere safe.”
He didn’t make any effort to stifle his sarcasm. “Alone. Unguarded. In the open.”
“Because it’s so much better to be locked in a room, with nothing to defend myself and nowhere to hide.” She raised a valid point and, judging by his tense posture, pricked his pride.
“There is no danger.”
“Says you. For all I know you’re an assassin in disguise.”
At that, he raised a brow. “If I were, you’d already be dead. Which reminds me, don’t hit me again.”
“Why not? I doubt you felt it.” To prove a point, she kicked him. Might as well slam her toes against a rock.
He didn’t even flinch. “I said no hitting.”
Because it amused, she raised her foot and nudged him. On purpose.
He dropped to his haunches, bringing his gaze level with hers. “My patience is not endless.”
“Do the tiny robots controlling you not have a program for regulating it?”
“Does your mouth not possess an off switch?”
The riposte brought a smile. You’d almost think he’d been raised amongst the Driadalys courts. “Tell your ears to filter out my voice if it bothers you. I have no problem at all pretending you’re not there.” Saying that, she drew her legs into a crossed position and opened her hands and held them palms together, eyes closed.
She took in a few deep breaths.
Felt him staring.
Let him. As far as she was concerned, he wasn’t there. Just her and an empty room, his heated gaze on her.
Or so she assumed.
What if he didn’t stare at all? He could have even left. The man moved with the grace of a dancer.
Was she sitting here eyes closed for nothing? The more she wondered, the more the conviction grew. He’d left, and she was sitting like a statue. Looking like an idiot.
Her eyes flew open. She was startled by a pair boring into hers. Without thought, her hand flashed out.
Connected with a crack.
Ghwenn’s mouth rounded in horror. “I thought you left.”
“What did I say about hitting?”
“That you enjoyed it and I should do it more often?” she offered sweetly.
“I said no such thing.”
“Are you sure? Because you’re doing everything you can, it seems, to ensure I have no choice.” Now that she’d found an argument, she threw it at him passionately. She scrambled to her feet that she might glare down at him.
“You’re nuts,” he grumbled.
“Is that meant to be a cyborg complement? On the lines of you’ll be the bolt to my nuts?” She peered down at her nether regions then his before meeting his gaze again.
A shocked and smoldering gaze.
“How did you manage to turn that into something sexual?”
Her lips curled. “You’re a male. How did you not?”
“You know, for a minute, sometimes, I think you’re a lady. Then you open your mouth and I realize you’re no better than dock town trash.”
“Funny, I think the same of you, except without the lady part. You’re just a dock rat, through and through.”
Rather than get nasty, he laughed. A rusty sound that boomed out, and while startling, it was contagious, too. She found herself smiling with him.
“You are something else, pixie.”
Canadian Trivia Question:
True or False. The baseball glove was invented in Canada.
For your chance to win a paperback comment below with the answer. Winner will be selected on Wednesday.
Hint: the answer can be found by visiting Kelly Bowen.
Looking for the answer to J.H. Wear’s trivia question? It was invented by Walter Chell in Calgary back in 1969
