All summer long we’re featuring great e-books at great prices as part of our “Pocket Star-E Nights” program! With the help of some amazing blog partners (our “Shooting Stars“), we’re sharing some deliciously decadent excerpts of these terrific novels. If you like what you’re reading, you can purchase the book via the buy links just below this post.

The following excerpt is from Gena Showalter’s Tempt Me Eternally, in which a shapeshifting alien huntress finds that her prey may be more than man enough for her. And the best part? If you love what you’ve read, you can buy it for just $3.99 by clicking the buttons at the bottom of this post. Enjoy…


All the air in Aleaha’s lungs escaped on a sudden rush, hot and blistering, burning her throat and mouth. She tensed, waiting. Waiting. And then it happened. Overhead, the gloomy darkness gave way to sparkling orange-pink flickers. The wind picked up, swirling leaves and beating limbs against each other. Snow danced in every direction.

Then . . . nothing. It was almost disappointing. Almost.

The flickers died, leaving only the haze of stars. The wind quieted, leaving only the rasp of human breathing. Gradually, she relaxed. Maybe the Schön had decided to stay home. Maybe there’d be a party tonight rather than a war, and she wouldn’t have to worry about—

“Commander?” someone asked.

“Hold,” Mia replied. “Hold steady. We’ll stay here all night if we have to.”

Easy for her to say. She was nestled inside that warm van.

Several minutes ticked by in silence. Shudders of cold began rocking through Aleaha, causing her teeth to chatter. This sucked. Much longer, and her gloved fingers would be frozen to her gun. If that happened, growing a penis would be easier than shooting. ’Cause, yeah, she could even become a man. And had, on several occasions. Hadn’t been as fun as she’d assumed. Penises were weird. They were also—

One second the circular clearing was empty, the next it was bursting with hulking, black-clad warriors. And there were far more than the expected ten.

“What the hell?” someone barked.

Aleaha jolted in surprise, sizing the visitors up in one panicked flash: living weapons. They were tall, well-muscled and radiated absolute power and authority. In the traitorous moonlight and snow, she could see that their features were humanoid—if you didn’t count their glowing, golden eyes, like twin suns crashing through daybreak.

“Fuck!” another of her teammates shouted. “They aren’t Schön, they’re Rakans! What do we do?”

Rakans? The peace-lovers? Couldn’t be. There was no damn way these ready-for-combat warriors would be waving a white flag.

“Do not kill,” Mia commanded. “I repeat, do not kill them. Continue with stun. I want to know why they’re here. Now go, go, go.”

Just as she was about to squeeze her gun’s trigger, a honey-scented breeze wafted through the air, taunting, beckoning her to lassitude and . . . How odd. Her nipples were beading, but not from the cold. Moisture was dampening her panties, her skin tightening over her bones, and drugging heat pouring into her veins.

Surely not. Surely the scent was not arousing her. Yet . . .

Why shoot them when she could kiss them? Kiss them . . . yes . . . Naughty images saturated her mind. Images of naked, writhing bodies—one of them golden. Seeking, hungry mouths—one of them golden. Wandering, teasing hands—again, a pair was golden. Satisfaction was only a heartbeat away, the anticipation of pleasure a consuming ache. All she had to do was drop her weapon, stand, and strip.

Strip? Seriously? What the hell was wrong with her? Was she the only one feeling this way? Like her, no one else had moved.

“Beautiful,” an agent said.

“Want,” another moaned.

Apparently not.

The warriors remained unmoving, silent, as if they were disoriented and needed to sober.

“Why are you just lying there, lusting after them? Did you not hear me? I said stun them, damn it,” the commander growled.

Forcing her mind to blank, one of the toughest things Aleaha had ever done, she hammered at the trigger with her index finger. Other agents followed suit, and multiple blue stun-beams erupted in the night, blending with hers and charting a direct course to the aliens.

Hit. Hit. Hit.

As the beams made contact, the Rakans were rendered immobile, aware of their surroundings but now unable to move. But most remained untouched, their comrades having acted as their shields.

As though realizing what was happening, those men quickly gained their bearings and charged forward, successfully dodging the next round of rays.

Aleaha blinked in shock. Never in all her twentysix years had she seen anyone move so swiftly. They moved so swiftly, in fact, that they left some kind of ethereal, ghostly outline of themselves behind. Their spirits? Those outlines then had to play catch-up with the tangible bodies, which created a dizzying blur of movement, light, and shadow.

“I’m down! I’m down!” someone cried. “Had the shit knocked out of me.”

“I can’t fucking freeze them,” Devyn said. Odd. He had refused to bring a gun to this fight, the cocky bastard, so he wouldn’t have been able to freeze them anyway.

After that, absolute chaos erupted. There were screams of pain, frantic footfalls, and humans collapsing. Aleaha pinched off a few more rounds. And, goddamn it, she missed every time.

She never missed. People who lived on the streets often depended on their aim for survival. She’d taught herself to hit whatever she aimed at—no matter what she was doing or what was going on around her. This was unacceptable.

Calm. Focus. She concentrated on the blurs as best she could, narrowing her eyes until she saw—