Monday, April 13, 2015

Talking with author Gail Koger

Planes, Trains and Taxis.

On a sixteen hour flight from Australia I got stuck sitting next to an English lady who was all elbows.  I mean, those suckers should have been registered as lethal weapons. Jab! Jab! Jab!  Joe Frazier had nothing on her. Trying to keep out of range, I ended up sharing half of my sister’s seat. Needless to say, she wasn’t very happy either.   
About thirty minutes into the flight from hell, the English lady pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and rubbed briskly at her really hairy underarms. Ewww!   Where the heck was the flight attendant when you needed her? I pushed my call button frantically. C’mon, c’mon I can’t take another 15 hours of this crap.  After what seemed like an eternity, okay it was more like five minutes, the flight attendant walked up. Before I can say a word, the English lady rudely butted in and ordered five of those little bottles of whiskey. I watched in amazement as she lined them up on her tray and proceeded to toss them down, one after another.  Twenty minutes later she was asleep and stayed that way for the entire flight.

If you want to travel to Mexico, make sure you fly. I made the big mistake of taking the train from Nogales toMazatlanMexico.  Hey, it was cheap. Really cheap and I soon found out why. The toilet was the pull down kind. No privacy. If you needed to go, you pulled the sucker out of the wall and did your business with everyone in the compartment watching.  Yeah, like that was going to happen. I’m proud to say I held it for twelve hours straight. Okay, I kept my legs crossed and prayed a lot.
The sleeping berths faced the front of the train. Every time it stopped you fell out of bed. They made a lot of stops. By the time we arrived in Mazatlan, I’m sleep deprived and really, really needed to pee. I rushed for the door, eager to find a real bathroom and found myself face to face with a big Hispanic dude. I eyed his scruffy unshaven face, filthy, sweat stained yellow shirt and his big ass rifle in horror. Holy guacamole, a bandito and we’re about to be robbed.  No, I did not pee my pants, but it was close. The guy turned out to be El Policia or as us Americans like to say a cop. He wanted to know if we had any drugs. I pulled out a bottle of aspirin and handed it to him. He was not amused. 
Riding in taxis can be downright terrifying.  There’s the language barrier. Yes, I went back to Mexico, my mistake. Moving on, I’ll admit my Spanish is limited. So communicating can be like a game of charades. Lots of hand gestures, pantomiming water and swimming.  “Adios Cerritos Beach. Si?”  At the blank look in the driver’s eyes, I did my best swimming routine and spoke very slowly. “Vamonos, beach. Si?”  We ended up at the market with twelve of his cousins trying to sell us handmade Mexican jewelry. Go figure.

Have you ever ridden in one of those airport vans? You know, the ones driven by a downright surly driver who speaks very little English and can’t get off his cell phone long enough to find out where you’re going? That should have been my first clue that things weren’t quite right. My second clue should have been the panicked expressions of the Japanese businessmen already seated. I climbed in and before I could even close the door, the driver floored it, cutting off a city bus and whizzing in and out of traffic. Did I mention no seatbelts? Red lights weren’t a problem, either. Nope, not at all cuz we weren’t taking the highway, we were doing Mach One down a trash filled alley. The driver seemed hell bent on hitting every pothole he could, sending us crashing into the ceiling.  Like some crazed kamikaze pilot, the driver shot across a busy street, barely missing a semi-truck and zoomed down another alley. I’m all for seeing the sights but c’mon. Dumpsters and transients aren’t really tourist attractions. The driver took a sharp right and suddenly I’m sitting on the lap of a Japanese businessman. He wrapped his arms around me as we went airborne and careened into the parking lot of a Marriot hotel. As soon as the driver opened the door, we all bailed. Was it my hotel? No, but I’m not stupid or suicidal. The nice Japanese businessmen escorted me inside and bought me a drink. Okay, a lot of drinks. Hey, I needed them to calm my nerves.

About the author:

I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for thirty-one years and to keep insanity at bay, I took up writing. Not to worry. The insanity isn’t catching – much. Other than the addiction to chocolate and the twitch in my left eye, I’m good. I write LOL science fiction romance. Vexing Voss and Reality Bites won Preditors and Editors Best Erotic Romance.


New Release: Reality Bites (Coletti Warlords Book 2)

Bree never thought her dimwit act, military grade mace, cattle prod, or dumping a ton of stinky manure on Jaylan's head would encourage his pursuit. Who knew a Coletti warlord would think of being zapped with a cattle prod as foreplay? Or a determined opponent only heightened his enjoyment of the chase?

The chase comes to an abrupt halt when the Tai-Kok attack Tucson, forcing Bree to team up with the Coletti warlord to stop them. Suddenly plucked from Earth by a crazed Tai-Kok commander, Jaylan and Bree find themselves stranded on a hostile alien world, and being tracked by a deadly Askole assassin. It’s really no time for the two of them to fall in love.


Dead Man’s Gulch, a piece of the Wild, Wild West plunked down in the middle of the Arizona desert. Off the beaten path, its isolation made it the perfect headquarters for our resistance movement. Underground bunkers had been added when the Tai-Kok and Rodan began raiding our world. 

My tiny office was located in the jail. I loved the atmosphere. The walls were covered with old wanted posters. A leather duster and gun belt complete with a functional 1873 Colt Peacemaker hung on the antique coatrack. 

I polished the gold badge pinned to my fringed leather shirt. Officially, I was Dead Man’s Gulch’s marshal, and when the need arose, I was authorized to make arrests. 

With my long black hair and copper-colored skin, most people thought I was Native American, not Coletti. Which worked out perfectly when the theme park was still open. I could either become Calamity Jane, the great American sharpshooter and sheriff, or an Indian princess. 

My latest bust had been a transient who thought an abandoned ghost town would be the perfect place to set up housekeeping. The buildings might look empty, but they’re not. Two hundred soldiers usually live below ground in the bunkers. Pops had taken all but the command staff to raid a holding center in Texas. 

Through the dusty front window, I watched a coyote amble down the dirt street. With a sigh, I surveyed my cluttered desk. Paperwork was the bane of my existence. As Pops’s second in command I was responsible for strategy, equipping our troops, and getting new identities for the rescued women. 

Central Command had a stranglehold on weapons, and we were forced to buy from Mexican gunrunners. Not an exercise for the faint of heart. The thugs thought a woman would be an easy mark, until I taught them otherwise. 

To make things really interesting, the Overlord had sent his best hunter, Jaylan, to Earth to track down and eliminate all members of Earth First. He had already destroyed our bases in Nevada and Oregon. Pops was beyond pissed. 

A thousand fireflies sparked in my brain as my internal radar went on red alert. I almost inhaled my gum when an enormous Coletti warrior abruptly teleported into my office. 

His fangs bared in a feral snarl, he demanded, “Where are they?” 

Holy hell, it was Jaylan! This was so not good. I quickly stomped on the silent alarm hidden beneath my desk, and assumed my mother’s ditzy demeanor. “We’re an Old West theme park, and while your costume is very authentic, we’re looking for gunslingers, not Jedi knights or Coletti invaders.” 

Jaylan cocked a disbelieving eyebrow and leveled the barrel of his laser pistol at my chest. “Put your hands up.” 

“No sense in getting all cranky. We aren’t hiring right now, and even if we were, you’d have to lose those fangs.” 

The warlord leaned across the desk, literally oozing menace. “Do you wish to die?” 

“Boy, someone sure got up on the wrong side of the bed. With that stinky attitude, no one is going to hire you, but seeing how you drove all the way out here, I’ll give you an application form.” I reached into my top desk drawer and froze when Jaylan jammed his laser pistol against my forehead. 

“Do not move.” 

I popped my gum loudly. “Okeydoke.” 

“Put your hands up,” Jaylan commanded again. 

Blowing a huge purple bubble, I slowly raised my hands and tried not to laugh when he grabbed the trash can and ordered, “Spit it out.” 

I spat. My wad missed the trash can and hit his spiffy boot instead. “Ooops.” 

“Ooops?” Jaylan’s eyes burned with the promise of retaliation. 

“Sorry. My aim was off a bit. Let me get that for you,” I added in my best dumb-as-a-rock voice and smeared the offending glob over his boot. “Sticky little bugger.” 

“Leave it!” he bellowed. 

“You sure?” I swiped my finger upward, spreading the gooey mess onto his pants. “I’ve got some fingernail polish that will clean it right off.” 

“Enough! Do you take me for a fool?” 

I burst into tears, sobbing as if my heart had been broken. “I was... I was...just trying to help.” 

“Stop your sniveling.” 

Grabbing a bunch of tissues off my desk, I noisily blew my nose and offered timidly, “Can I get you some coffee?” 

“No.” The warlord studied me suspiciously for a long moment, then turned his attention to searching my desk. 

My gaze roamed over Jaylan’s chiseled features and strong jaw. Damn, he was one hot dude, if you were into the whole merciless-predator thing. His black battle suit displayed an amazing amount of muscles, and he wore a large bronze communication bracelet on each arm. A bronze chain was woven into his ebony warrior braids. Two daggers protruded from his knee-high armored boots, and he even had a wicked-looking sword hanging from his weapons belt. 

I added a quiver to my voice. “Is this a robbery? Because, buddy, you picked the wrong place to rob. There’s no money here.” 

Jaylan yanked me from my chair. “Tell me where your commander is, and I will be merciful.” 

‘Merciful?’ What kind of dialogue is that? You sound like someone out of a bad action movie.” 

A growl rumbled in Jaylan’s throat. Grabbing a handful of my shirt, he picked me up with his left hand. “Where is your commander?” 

I glanced down in surprise. My toes dangled inches from the floor. I was six feet tall, and this guy had lifted me effortlessly. “Commander? Oh, you mean my boss?” 

“Yes,” Jaylan snapped, giving me a hard shake. 

“He’s not here.” 

He shook me again. “Where is he?” 

“I don’t know. I’m just the part-time secretary. I come in twice a week to do the paperwork.” 

Animosity glittered in Jaylan’s amber eyes. “You cannot be this stupid.” 

I narrowed my amber eyes and huffed, “Excuse me?” 

“We tracked the females here. You will take me to them.” 

“If you’re looking for the whorehouse, it’s another twenty miles down the road.” I tugged at his hand. “Could you put me down? You’re wrinkling my shirt.” 

Jaylan dropped me in the chair and commanded, “Do not move.” 

“Who died and made you boss?” 

He pushed his laser pistol against my nose. “This makes me the boss.” 

Crossing my eyes, I stared at it. “How do I know it’s real?” 

Jaylan’s expression was one of total exasperation. He moved his laser pistol three inches to the right and obliterated my filing cabinet. 

“Oh. My. God. You’re gonna get me fired!” I shrieked in dismay. 

“If you do not cooperate, you are going to wish you were dead.” 

“You know, nine dollars an hour is not worth this shit. I quit.” Picking up my backpack, I headed for the door and ran into a rock hard chest. 

“You are not going anywhere.” 

I yanked out a canister of super-duper military-grade mace from my backpack and sprayed him in the face. “Wanna bet?” 

Yowling in fury, Jaylan staggered back, rubbing at his eyes. “You will regret this, female.” 

My eyes watering badly, I growled, “The name is Bree. Not female, and you’re a bully. I hate bullies.” I grabbed the cattle prod we used on our Brahma bulls off the desk. I shoved it into his neck and lit him up. 

With a grunt of pain, he dropped to his knees. Barely ten seconds later, I felt Jaylan’s mind bounce off my rather awesome mental shields. 

Damn, he was a tough one. “Surprise, I’m a Siren. The first line of defense against alien monsters like you. You know, one of those women whose psychic abilities make us prime breeding stock? The ones you assholes turn into broodmares.” 

Jaylan’s mental voice was mesmerizing, compelling. “Drop your shields.” 

“Oh, give it a rest. Mind control doesn’t work on me.” I zapped him again and again and again until he lay quivering on the floor. Bullies brought out my mean streak. 

Jaylan’s amber eyes locked on me. A cold rush of fear tightened my stomach at the terrible fury burning there. How was he still conscious? 

“There is no place you can run that I cannot find you.” 

“I beg to differ.” I picked up his laser pistol, switched it over to stun, and blasted him. Crackling red energy danced over Jaylan. 

“I. Will. Find you,” Jaylan snarled between clenched teeth; his body convulsed violently. 

Available at Loose Id Publishing


Rhonda Jones said...

Ah, I loved Reality Bites by Gail Koger!

Nay Nay said...

I loved all of Gail Koger's book. I was luck enough to get the 1st two books in the Coletti Warlord series before they became extinct in the publishing world. I read them and re-read them all the time. In fact every time Ms. Koger releases a new book in the Coletti series, I go back and read them ALL. I also won one of her earlier books that is no longer available and absolutely loved it. Ms. Koger is an automatic buy for me.


There is something about evil that draws me into its labyrinth of dark heinousness. There is mystery in the pain of it, there is te...