Resisting Tamaki
Shelley Munro


Resistance is futile.

Cimmaron Zhaan refuses to follow the traditional path of a Dlog woman. Instead she dreams of traveling through space and flying spaceships for the Coalition. Years of hard work bring her goal within grasp until her superior seeks sexual favors and leaves her stranded on the isolated planet of Marchant.

Enter sexy club manager Tamaki Grierson. Cimmaron’s not looking for a mate, but there’s no denying that sparks fly between them. Desperate to leave Marchant, she’s determined to resist him. All she wants is to keep her head down and work—no romance for her.

But there’s something strange about the club and curiosity leads Cimmaron into trouble. Before she knows it, she’s naked with Tamaki and his best friend. Kisses. Heated embraces and torrid sex. Their loving is breathtaking. Her resistance is at low ebb, her heart and mind battling the overwhelming attraction she feels for Tamaki. If she isn’t careful, her Dlog hormones will tie her to Tamaki for life and her struggle to fly spaceships will be for naught.

Reader Advisory: Novel contains a m/f/m ménage scene.


The bastard had left!

Cimmaron Zhaan stared around the empty transport bay, shock kicking her in the gut. She strode a tight circle to survey her surrounds—just to make sure. Her footsteps resounded in the cavernous spaceport. A worker droid scooted in front of her, and she snarled under her breath, sidestepping to dodge it. Empty. The echo of her boots mocked her, underlining her stupidity in trusting anything the captain said. The phrullin’ male had taken off early, leaving her stranded with minimum possessions and even fewer credits to her name.


Anger burned through her and her hands fisted then squeezed as she imagined wringing the captain’s beefy neck. The weight of stares from the maintenance crew jerked her from pissed to controlled and inscrutable. Yeah, she’d known the arrogant bastard had expected her to act grateful when he’d suggested they while away the long voyage from Risches to Stavek by sharing a cabin. She’d turned him down flat, and he’d transferred his attentions to one of the lesser crew. But Campbell hadn’t forgotten her slight. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to make life difficult for her. Leaving her stranded on isolated Marchant was the latest in a long line of Campbell-created annoyances.

Cimmaron stalked past the maintenance men and their droid workers with her nose in the air. Inside she seethed. What the hell was she gonna do now? Campbell had told her to wear mufti while on leave, so she didn’t even have a uniform to prove she was a pilot. All her papers were on the Intrepid. She stormed down a long corridor to the communication center. One hour later, the telecommunications tech put her through to command on the Intrepid.

“Ah, Officer Zhaan.” Campbell sat at ease in the pilot’s chair, his tunic blindingly white while his dark eyes bore a trace of smugness.

Bastard. “Captain Campbell.” Cimmaron jammed the tip of her tongue behind her teeth instead of blurting the obscenities she wanted to level at him.

“You were late. We had our allocated time slot to depart.”

Cimmaron’s eyes narrowed, but she refused to react any further, giving him the leverage to land her in even deeper crap.

“This will go on your record, Officer Zhaan.”

Too late. It seemed the situation was already beyond mere apologies and groveling. “You told me we were leaving at second moonrise.”

“First moonrise,” he countered. “Officer Zhaan, I have noted on your record you are AWOL.”

“You lied. You told me second moonrise.”

The tinge of red on his prominent brow warned her she should’ve held her tongue. His pointy ears twitched—a sure sign of impending displeasure. “None of the other crew was late back from leave.”

Cimmaron’s nails dug into her thighs, and the heat of temper crawled across her cheekbones. Phrull, she was probably flashing gold with her emotions, sparkling like the backside of a glow bug—an unfortunate side effect of being a Dlog. “Are you going to come back for me?”

“Return for one female. I don’t think so. Officer Zhaan, I’d say you’re officially screwed.” A smirk formed on his lips, echoing in his sly eyes. “Over and out.”