Mining ash on a remote planet where temperatures reach hellish degrees doesn’t leave Kal (aka Spark) much room for dating. Lucky for this hard-working man, a new corporation Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides is ready to help him find the girl of his dreams. Does it really matter that he lied on his application and really isn’t looking for long-term, but rather some fast action? Earth women better watch out. Things are about to heat up.
I picked up Michelle M. Pillow’s Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides series after quite a few friends recommended her, claiming if I was looking for a hot sexy laugh put loud fantasy romance, this was it. And they were right. I laughed almost the entire book and can’t wait to finish the trilogy.
The series revolves around three cousins from an alien planet who are on the hunt for a good time. Kal signs them up, unknowingly, for a bride service, and soon the adventure begins as these three men attempt to understand Earth culture and all its glorious and confusing wonders.
Kal took her hand in his and drew her into the room behind him. The suite was large enough for the three men to entertain guests. The living space had bright red couches and a flat screen television on the wall. Circular metal rings created a wall to divide the room. They poorly guarded the minibar filled with tiny bottles of liquor. Each had only enough for one swallow. The three men had gone through the entire collection in only a few minutes.
“The performance gigs must be going well,” Carrie said.
“I don’t understand.” Kal didn’t know why she kept referencing a performance. She’d made mention of it several times on their walk to the suite.
“Are you worried I will not satisfy you?”
“What?” Her cheeks colored by small degrees. “No, I…”
“I see. Performance.” Kal nodded in understanding. “The mating ritual.”
“The…?” Her words trailed off as he went to the remote and turned on the television, flipping it to a music channel. The sounds of a hard, primal beat filled the room, and he turned toward her. He’d watched the transmissions of Earth customs and knew what kind of performance she was expecting from him. His name was Spark after all. She probably had an expectation of what must be done.
“Do you have money?” Kal kicked his shoes off his feet.
“Money?” Her mouth opened, and she looked confused. Suddenly, she stiffened, and said, “Oh, my goodness. You’re a prostitute. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you expected me to pay you for sex.”
“For sex?” He shook his head in denial as pulled the t-shirt over his head and threw it on the couch. “No, for the ritual.” He reached into his pocket and handed her a wad of cash. She took it, still looking as if she didn’t know what to do with it. He gently touched her shoulder indicating she should take a seat next to his discarded shirt. When she looked up at him, her eyes affected him in a way he hadn’t felt before. All of sudden the human mating dance ritual made sense to him, and it felt natural that he’d want to entice her to accept the gift he had to offer. Each time she touched him, no matter how brief, her cooler hands felt like ice melting on his warmer body. Kal began to rotate his hips in small circles in time with the music, dancing to the female voice coming from the television. He let the music about love and fighting flow through him, intent on doing the mating dance right so that she would join him on the bed. He swung his arms, moved his hips, and shook his ass like every future happiness depended on it.
Carrie watched Kal jerk his body erratically to Pat Benatar’s “Love Is a Battlefield” like it was the most seductive song he’d ever heard. No, not seductive, she thought as he began punching the air aggressively before swinging his arms back and forth.
Carrie wasn’t sure what to call his dance. Tribal? A mental breakdown? Comedy?
A black tribal tattoo covered one shoulder down to his forearm and extended along an entire side of his chest and stomach. It even curved around his small erect nipple as if to showcase the tiny bud. When he turned, she saw the black ink had also claimed half of his back. Three perfectly round bumps lined the inside of his right hip, appearing to be steel balls implanted in the skin for the sake of body modification. She wasn’t sure if it was intended, but they seemed to point her eyes down to the lifting erection between his hips. The muscles of his chest rippled as he moved, drawing her eyes upward from the cut of his hip. He shook his shoulders as he bent toward her and wiggled his fingers like she was supposed to join him. Carrie slowly lifted the cash-filled fist to cover her mouth with the back of her hand to keep from laughing.
At the gesture, he lifted his hip toward her and began thrusting. Realizing what he wanted her to do, she took one of his bills and gingerly placed it in his pocket. This clearly pleased him because he moved his other hip in her direction and began to shake harder. There was something endearingly sexy and silly about the entire situation. The desire she felt for him combined with the carefree feelings she experienced while in his presence. Carrie thrust several bills into his pocket. He then moved to shake his ass in front of her face. Unable to keep back her laughter, she shoved the entire leftover wad into his hind pocket and then gave his butt a small smack with the flat of her hand. The song neared the end, and she stood.
He kept dancing. She placed a hand in the center of his naked chest, detecting the hard beat of his heart. “Do you like my mating?” he asked.
“I like it very much.” Carrie nodded. She drew her hand down to the waistband of his blue jeans. “But I believe these are supposed to come off, as well.”
Spark (Galaxy Alien Mail Order Brides #1) by Michelle M. Pillow is available now for purchase.