Nazhin

Jennifer
After my ex-boyfriend snatched my astronomy research and left me seeing stars (and not in a good way), I was more than ready for an intergalactic escape. Boarding this alien space cruise, I planned to lose myself in constellations and complex calculations. But somehow, I keep crossing paths with this suspiciously helpful porter with electric blue skin. Sure, I'm here for science, not for love — but why does he act like carrying my luggage is the highlight of his millennium?

Nazhin
Who knew being a billionaire CEO could be so... boring? Jennifer thinks I'm a porter, and honestly? It's the most fun I've had in ages. While she's calculating star trajectories, I'm plotting ways to cross her path — without blowing my cover. But a dramatic crash landing means my CEO secret is out of the bag. Now, I have to convince Jennifer that I'm more than just a rich guy with a penchant for luggage — I'm her fated mate.

This forced proximity romance is full of "touch her and you die" moments with a protective alien hero who falls hard and fast for his destined mate. Survive thrilling adventures on a primitive alien planet, experience cute and funny comedy moments that will make you cry tears, and fall in love with a unique paranormal fantasy shapeshifter.

My sister, Tamara, and I step off the elevator to discover a maze of fancy velvet ropes winding across the shuttle bay floor between us and the purple rosebud shaped shuttle. For the past three days, I’ve dodged alien advances and endured tedious soirees. Now, finally, my long-awaited opportunity has arrived. We are about to embark upon an excursion through the ionosphere of exoplanet RAx-P-7—known as the Singing Planet to the rest of the galaxy. I’ve seen hazy images of it through NASA satellite images, and I’m giddy with excitement over the opportunity to document the atmospheric spectrography up close.

Traveling into space has been my dream since Dad gave me a junior telescope for my eighth birthday. The first moment I viewed the night sky through the eyepiece, I knew I wanted to be an astronomer. But after my lab partner ex-boyfriend stole a year’s worth of research and published it as his own, I thought my dream might be lost for good.

Then my twin sister, Tamara, won tickets for this alien space cruise, giving me one last chance at a Hail Mary to complete my college thesis on time. So, while most of the other women on board are here for the hot aliens, I’m only interested in viewing the stars and testing my new app. Nobody on Earth has ever captured telemetry like this before, and I know I’m going to blow my professors away with this thesis.

Ahead of us on the shuttle deck stands a small gray alien in a white crew uniform who looks like he came straight from Area 51. He’s talking to a pair of tall, broad-shouldered Kirenai wearing Speedos.

Tamara nudges me with her elbow and points with her chin toward the Speedo-wearing guys as they thank him and enter the empty maze. “Jennifer, look.”

I chuckle. “Nice.”

Somehow, the aliens have it into their heads that human males wear swimming trunks on cruise ships. Now almost every alien guest we encounter wears them—even when there’s no pool in sight. Not that I’m complaining—I never imagined aliens could be so good looking, from the blue Kirenai shapeshifters to the gargoyle-like Khargals. Even the short red aliens called Fogarians aren’t terrible to look at if you can get past their abundant red body hair and beards.

“More Bloom sisters! How delightful,” the gray alien says. The crew members are fantastic about remembering names and have bent over backward trying to make us comfortable.

The alien at the podium points a thin finger toward the shuttle. “Your other party member is already here. Please have an enjoyable trip!”

“Thank you.” I lift the nearest rope and duck underneath it. I want to get to the shuttle and set up my equipment before the good seats are all taken.

Tamara grabs my arm and hisses, “They’ve set those up for a reason, you know.”

I scowl at her. Sometimes I wonder how she and I can be twins when she’s such a scaredy-cat, but I adore her anyway. I gesture to the empty maze. “It’s not like I’m cutting in front of people.”

She clutches her big purse closer, one hand inside it to pet her emotional support dog, Beanie. Our other sisters complained about her bringing the animal, but I know Beanie is the only way Tamara can face stress, so I don’t mind.

After a moment of hesitation, she grimaces and ducks under the rope with me.

I give her a proud wink and hurry forward, ducking and winding until I spot our sister, Suzanne, skulking near the shuttle ramp. She has wrapped a pastel swirl scarf around her head and neck, and sunglasses hide the rest of her face. She’s been trying to avoid a Kirenai admirer she hooked up with on the first night of the cruise.

But my sister and her shenanigans aren’t what draw my attention. Next to her towers Nazhin, the brawny blue porter I met the first day of the cruise. Each time he carries my equipment, he looks a little different. He’s completely ditched the Ken-doll haircut so many other Kirenai have and is now completely bald. His eyes have acquired a slight silvery sheen, and he’s also developed huge muscles—I assume he’s shifting to increase them because he’s been hauling stuff all over the ship. Even here, from across the shuttle bay, I can see his biceps straining the short sleeves of his uniform. I wonder what he looks like in a Speedo…