These Boots Were Made For Ass Kicking

Welcome back for my third and final day in the DIK Blog takeover!

Today, we’re going to talk about a subject very near and dear to my heart: boots.

If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook you know that I have a mild—okay, huge—obsession with boots. Tall boots, specifically. The more buckles and straps, the happier I am. Boots make me feel like a badass, ready to take on any adventure or danger.

So you can bet that when it came time for me to write my sci-fi heroine, the scavenger Mara Skiren, I made sure to put her in boots. Mara is, as the kids say, a BAMF (bad-ass mother f****r), and I wanted her footwear to reflect that aspect of her. When Mara’s on her ship, trolling the galaxy for merch to scavenge, she wears boots that are pure utility, like these:

Practical, yet seriously kick-butt.

But when Mara has to visit the thieves’ den known as the planet Ryge in the infamous Smoke Quadrant, she wears different boots with a lot more flash. Why?

The scavengers and smugglers on Ryge liked to dress flamboyantly. Calling cards for how successful they were. A drab scavenger clearly wasn’t doing well, and they were a collection of braggarts. Nobody respected the soft-spoken, the humble. Reputation wasn’t everything, but it counted for a lot.

Mara’s reputation gleamed, and everybody in the Smoke knew if they wanted merch moved, or prime scrap, she was the one to see. So she dressed the part.

I imagine her flashy Ryge boots look something like this:

I could have gone with a stiletto-heeled boot, but, honestly, who can run and kick ass in pointy, tottering heels? No, Mara might want to look sexy and showy, but she also knows that Ryge is a dangerous place, and she needs to be ready for anything.

Of course, the most dangerous thing she faces on Ryge is the explosive sexual chemistry between her and the man with whom she’s forced to partner, Commander Kell Frayne of the 8th Wing. And let’s just say that when neither of them can control their desire any longer…certain articles of clothing are lost, but Mara’s boots stay on.

And on that very naughty note, I bid you all a fond farewell. It’s been tons of fun hosting my takeover of the DIK Blog, and I hope you had a good time, too! Please visit me at my website, and on Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr. And you can find links to buy COLLISION COURSE here.

(Please note: this post was merely an excuse to look at pictures of boots online and call it “work.”)

Talkin' Tech

Welcome back for Day Two of my DIK Blog Domination!

Today I’m talking tech. Sci-fi technology, that it. One of the awesome things about writing sci-fi romance (or any science fiction, for that matter) is that you get to make up amazing technology. Sometimes the tech is stuff we’d love to have (like the replicators on Star Trek), and sometimes it’s terrifying (like unstoppable cyborg assassins from the Terminator films).

The only thing that limits the technology in sci-fi is imagination. Almost anything you can think of, you can put in your story. In fact, it’s actually difficult to rein in one’s ideas, especially if you want to keep the characters’ thoughts and feelings as the central focus of the story.

Still, I knew that with my own sci-fi romance, COLLISION COURSE, I would need to come up with some cool tech and gadgetry to make the world of the 8th Wing resistance fighters versus the tyrannical mega-corporation PRAXIS both believable and fun. But since I am slightly science-challenged (I am a Literature major for a reason), I had to consult with my own in-house mad scientist—aka, my husband, aka sci-fi romance author Nico Rosso. Between the two of us, we came up with a some very cool technology that adds to the drama of the story.

Within the ranks of the 8th Wing, there is a squadron of elite fighter pilots known as the Black Wraith Squad. Only these pilots can fly Black Wraith ships, including our hero, Commander Kell Frayne.

[Kell] held up his left hand, revealing the square of slightly raised flesh in the center of his palm. “Biotech implants. Without this, the Wraith is an inoperable hunk of metal. But with the implant, the pilot and the ship become one.”

So the pilot’s thoughts command the Black Wraith, making it faster and more responsive than flying a ship using manual controls. Further, Wraiths are adaptive:

He concentrated, and couldn’t help but smile when Mara gave a startled yelp. The ship responded to his mental commands, actually shifting and reconfiguring its interior. A process both liquid and mechanical as components altered, remade themselves. No longer did the ship seat just one person. At his directive, the Black Wraith could now accommodate a pilot and a gunner in a rotating turret, and all within a few seconds’ work, rather than losing days on making modifications.

Pretty cool, if I do say so, myself. ☺ And that’s been one of the most fun aspects of writing sci-fi romance: creating technology that could never exist except in the writer’s imagination.

What’s your favorite piece of sci-fi technology? If you could invent anything, what might it be?

Leave an answer, and I will be a random commenter to win a book from my backlist! (US and Canada only)

See you here tomorrow!

Zoë Archer's DIK Domination Begins!

Welcome to Day One of my three-day DIK Domination!

Today, I’m going to give you a little taste of my sci-fi romance, COLLISION COURSE, now available from Carina Press.

The ship was too small. It never had been before. There had always been plenty of room for her. Mara knew that technically, the Arcadia hadn’t actually shrunk. But now the bulkheads felt too close, the passageways too narrow, and the cockpit felt like a Meruvian snuffbox.

Not very difficult to find the culprit behind the Arcadia’s sudden loss of size.

As she piloted toward the Smoke Quadrant, she sent another wary glance out of the corner of her eye. The 8th Wing flyboy was studying the control panel intently, his dark brows drawn down in concentration. His presence beside her was large, warm, masculine. Foreign. Unwanted.

“Planning a mutiny?”

Frayne didn’t look up from his scrutiny of the controls. “If I jettison you, I can’t get to the Smoke Quadrant.”

Nice. “Why the inspection?”

“I always learn whatever ship I’m on. Never know when I’ll need to take the controls.”

Mara bristled. “You aren’t getting your hands on my ship. I promise you that.”

He turned to her, and even this slight adjustment of his posture made her feel hemmed in, overwhelmed. She told herself it was because he was 8th Wing, a representative of everything she avoided—order, discipline, regulations. Obligations. Yet she knew, deep down, that his gray uniform accounted for only a very small part of what unsettled her.

His eyes, darker than the depths of space, held hers. “Tell me what I can get my hands on.”

“Keep them to yourself,” she snapped, but a pulse of heat worked through her.

He lifted his broad shoulders in a negligent shrug. Yet he wasn’t as indifferent as he tried to look. Mara felt his gaze on her as she slid out of her seat to make some adjustments to the ship’s climate controls. Felt his gaze all over her body. It was too damned hot in here.

For another excerpt, plus links to buy, find it all here.

See you tomorrow!