Abducted: Alien Mate Index Book 1: (Alien Warrior BBW Science Fiction Paranormal Romance) (The Alien Mate Index)
Authors: Evangeline Anderson
The Alien Mate Index
Book 1: Abducted
Evangeline Anderson
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Evangeline Anderson Books
The Alien Mate Index
Book 1: Abducted
Copyright © 2016 by Evangeline Anderson
Kindle Edition License Notes
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Dedication:
With love to all my Kindred readers. If you like
Kindred
, I think you'll love
Alien Mate Index
as well. I write these books with all of you in mind. I feel very blessed to have such awesome people to pretend with me.
Hugs and Happy Reading to you all!
Evangeline
Author’s Note :
Throughout this book, you'll notice lots of references to different sci-fi and fantasy shows and movies because, well, I'm a geek. : ) I thought it would be fun to see how many of you are as geeky as I am. If you want to list the references as you see them, then send me the list at
[email protected]
, I will put your name in the pot for the drawing of a gift card. This contest is good until book number 2 of Alien Mate Index, Protected comes out. Good luck and see how many you can find! Some are hidden and there's one I bet no one will get ; ) Evangeline
Table of Contents
Protected
: Alien Mate Index Book 2 Sneak Peek
Find out more about the Alpha Males of the Alien Mate Index
Bonus: Tasty Recs from some of my Author Friends
The Alien Mate Index
or
How I became an Alien Mail Order Bride
Part one: Through the Looking Glass (No, seriously, I’m not kidding. I actually went through a freaking looking glass.)
Zoe
All the hottest mail order brides come from Russia.
Russia or somewhere over in the Ukraine. At least, that’s what it looks like if you’re surfing the Internet late at night and you run across one of those awful Bride sites.
All those women are tall and thin with sleek, perfect hair and sexy smiles. Oh,
and
they’re all willing to travel halfway around the world to get out of the crappy place they’re living and start a new life.
Of course, they might change their minds if they found out they’d have to travel halfway across the freaking
universe
. That might be a deal breaker. I know it would have been for me—if anyone had given me a choice.
I didn’t get a choice though. In fact, I didn’t even know I was
in
the AMI. That’s the Alien Mate Index—which is the site full of women that Alien males with a taste for Earth girl coochie can choose from. Hell, I didn’t even know there
was
an Alien Mate Index at all!
Until I got abducted.
Now, lest you go thinking that I’m some six-foot tall, hot, blonde supermodel, let me set the record straight. I’m not. I’m
so
not.
I’m five four in my stocking feet and I have curly auburn hair that tends to frizz on a humid day. And since I live in Florida,
every
day is a humid day.
In addition to not being tall with sleek blonde hair, I am also
not
thin. That’s okay though—I’m not afraid to admit I’m plus sized. I own my curves and I love them. I spent too many years at Weight Watchers counting points until I felt like a freaking adding machine. Finally I decided, you know what? Forget it. Me getting skinny just isn’t going to happen.
Now I live my life by the 80/20 rule. Eighty percent of the time I eat healthy and the other twenty percent I eat a damn donut if I want it. So what if I’m a size sixteen the rest of my life? I can deal with that as long as I don’t have to live on nothing but kale and quinoa. Krispy Kreme is more my style anyway.
I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not exactly mail order bride material. I’m just an ordinary girl with a little more junk in the trunk than usual, flyaway red hair, and too many freckles. I’m
not
the kind of girl a guy would point to on a website and go—“Her—oh my God, I’ve got to have
her.”
At least, I didn’t think so.
Again, until I got abducted.
But let me tell you about that—and you might want to take some notes. You might want to know what or
who
might be coming for you. That’s because you never can tell who might be watching you, even when you’re having the most boring, awful, ordinary day of your life…
“Oh my God, he’s being an asshole again. I’m telling you, Leah, I can’t take much more,” I muttered into my phone as I sat huddled in a stall of the employee bathroom at Lauder, Lauder and Associates. I worked as a paralegal there and the lawyer I was assigned to, Dayton Lauder the third, was a real piece of work.
Dayton always spoke in this booming voice, as though he was addressing a crowd of admirers and he wanted the ones in the back to be able to hear him. Unfortunately, most days it was just him and me and I was most definitely
not
an admirer. That didn’t stop him from “yell-talking”(as my friend Charlotte called it) all the time, though. I ended most work days with a pounding headache.
If poor voice modulation was the worst thing I had to put up with, I might not have minded so much. Unfortunately, Dayton had other problems that put the “yell-talking” one in the shade.
One problem was his personal hygiene—or lack thereof. When most people think of a lawyer, they imagine some sexy associate from The Good Wife with an immaculate, pressed, tailored suit, neatly clipped hair, and manicured hands.
Not Dayton Lauder the third.
As a tax lawyer, he didn’t really go to court much. He just sat in his office and did paperwork, so I guess he thought it didn’t matter how he came to work.
Well, it mattered to me. Or
anybody
that got too close to him.
My boss had a love affair with brown, polyester suits. I say “suits” but in fact, I was convinced he only owned one of them which he wore every single day and never cleaned. It was rumpled and wrinkled and he wore it with a stained white shirt that had dirt marks on the collar and sleeves. Every time he waved his arms—he did this a lot while he was “yell-talking”—a huge cloud of nauseating BO would waft out, nearly knocking me over if I stood too close.
He had coffee breath too—not too surprising since he had me brew him several pots a day. Of course, I’m a paralegal,
not
a freaking barista but the economy sucked and I needed the job. So I brewed the damn coffee and even fixed it just the way he liked it—three creams and four sugars.
Now, people can be socially awkward and not be horrible. But again, not my boss. He shouted at me a lot and just that morning he’d actually thrown a stapler at my head because I had stapled his papers in the
top
left hand corner instead of putting the staple right in the
middle
where he preferred it.
What an ass.
After the stapler incident, I had run to the bathroom where I was pouring out my heart to Leah, one of my two best friends.
“Oh, Zoe, I’m so sorry.” Leah had a soft, sweet voice—everything about her was soft and sweet actually—that I normally found soothing. But today, I was too upset to be soothed.
“He threw a
stapler
at my freaking
head,”
I emphasized.
“That’s
awful,”
she exclaimed. And then I heard her say, “All right, sweetheart, I’ll help you find your pony in just a minute. Right now, though, Miss Heidi is in charge. Okay?”
Leah works in a private daycare center that specializes in mildly autistic children and she’s better with kids than I could ever be. Talk about the patience of a saint.
“Kids sneaking into the break room again?” I asked.
She sighed. “Yes, I’m sorry. Heidi is supposed to be in charge but they always seem to want me. Makes it hard to take a break.”
“I shouldn’t be taking up your time then,” I said. “Let me let you go.”
“No—keep talking. You need to get it off your chest.” Leah would make an awesome therapist, I swear, which is what she really wanted to be if she could ever get back to school.
There was a clicking on the line that I recognized.
“Oh, no. Hang on,” Leah said, her soft voice suddenly filled with dread. There was a pause and I wondered if it was Gerald, her overprotective fiancée calling. Leah always claimed he had her best interest at heart but over time he had become more and more controlling until Charlotte, my other best friend, and I, were really worried about her.
A moment later, Leah came back on.
“It’s just Charlotte,” she said, her voice filled with relief. “Should I put her on too?”
“Of course. She must have gotten my message—I called her before I called you.” I cleared my throat. “I, uh, thought it might be Gerald calling you again,” I said as she merged the calls.
“Nope. He’s off on a business trip this weekend.” Leah’s voice sounded light and happy—I wondered if she had any idea that she sounded that way when her fiancée was gone.
“Who’s on a business trip? Gerald?” Charlotte’s no-nonsense voice came on the line, filled with disbelief. “And he trusts you to be in the house alone all weekend?”
“Of
course
he trusts me.” There was a note of defensiveness in Leah’s voice that worried me. I had never liked her fiancée and lately his nasty attitude seemed to be getting worse. But now wasn’t the time to stage a “your boyfriend is a controlling asshole” intervention. Taking pity on her, I decided to turn the conversation back to my current situation.
Quickly, I outlined the situation to Charlotte. She’s a nurse practitioner working for an orthopedic surgeon—he even lets her assist in some of the surgeries he does. She has the best job by far of the three of us but I can’t be jealous of her for it—she really busted her ass to get where she is. Not that getting a paralegal degree is all rainbows and unicorns but it’s not as complicated as what Charlotte is doing.
“Report him to Human Resources,” Charlotte said at once, when I finished the near-miss-stapler-to-the-head story for the second time.
I sighed. “We’ve been over that—you know I can’t! His uncle and father own the company. Human resources isn’t going to do jack shit about it!”
“Zoe…” Leah didn’t like harsh language.
“Sorry, Leah but you know it’s true. I just—”
Suddenly I heard a strange gurgling coming from the stall beside me. Uh-oh—was someone in there? Specifically, was Mindy the office tattletale taking notes?
