When human Pilot Holly Reed crash lands in the middle of an alien jungle, it derails her entire mission. Luckily, the planet of Cynabar is much more welcoming than it seems... Holly intends to let nothing stop her from getting paid and setting out on another assignment for the Terran forces. That is, of course, until she finds herself caught up in the traditions of the unfamiliar Cynabarrian culture, and in the arms of a handsome alien prince. Holly finds herself torn between an attraction to a man whose duties rival her own, and maintaining the life she built for herself. When figures from her past emerge, it becomes about more than just love: suddenly Holly's number one priority is surviving. Highest Rankings: #1 in adult #2 in alienplanet #1 in matureromance #1 in scifi-fantasy #1 in space #1 in scifi-romance *Some language and scenarios may not be appropriate for younger readers.*

Exams, no girlfriend, a cantankerous grandfather - George has it tough. And that's even before the assassins come for him, he discovers the magical sword stashed in the attic, and finds out he's responsible for saving a world he didn't even know existed. Talk about pressure. Fantasy and reality collide, as George battles to save his life, his family and - well, pretty much everything - from the forces of evil, while hopefully also addressing the no-girlfriend problem. Unless, that is, he gets killed to death first. Which would at least sort out the exams issue.

Prompt: Death has records of everyone's existence. Except - according to Death - your records don't exist. _______________________________ PREVIEW You stumble forth into blackness. Past the threshold, there is nothing solid beneath your feet. You plummet into the oblivion below, clutching wildly at the emptiness around you. There is no sensation but the terror of freefall in the pit of your stomach and the freezing rush of air against your skin. Impenetrable darkness presses on your eyes. You fear that it will swallow you. You take solace in the fact that there is still air to breathe, even though every gasp seems to turn your lungs to ice. Distantly, you recall that hell is supposed to be firey and painful. In your desperation, you accept this comfort that you must be headed elsewhere. Without warning, your feet connect with something solid, and the impact shudders through your bones, leaving an agonizing ache in your knees as you collapse in a heap. You roll over, eyes meeting the sky. It's hazy and more grey than blue, but its wispy clouds provide the same relief as spotting a familiar face in a crowd of strangers. Death leans over you, obstructing your view. His empty sockets pull your thoughts back to the abyss, shattering all comfort. "Come on, I haven't got all day."