IBR's Editorial Review- "To Desire the Stars is a novel to read in a frenzy. The novel’s high-stakes, intriguing setting, emotional intensity, and immediate action give you what you asked for from the very beginning. The world building is superb, from the creation of new alien species all the way down to human office politics. The characters are three-dimensional with clear motives, dynamic pasts, and humanizing details."
High Prince Jarren Graf flees Lynta, his olfactorily-ruled home planet, after his throne is usurped. He strategically hides on Earth where he meets executive assistant Melissa Reyes whose life is upended by their fateful encounter. Melissa's unique scent captivates Jarren, igniting a powerful attraction that challenges his focus on reclaiming his throne and dismantling an oppressive system. Their relationship is fraught as Jarren
battles his primal instincts and Melissa grapples with her past traumas
and the surreal reality of Jarren's alien nature.
Jarren must protect his galaxy from potential destruction while confronting his feelings for Melissa. Melissa must let go of her rigidity and control. Set against a backdrop of interstellar politics and cultural rituals, To Desire the Stars weaves a tale of love, sacrifice, and the quest for autonomy.
IBR's Editorial Review- "To Desire the Stars is a novel to read in a frenzy. The novel’s high-stakes, intriguing setting, emotional intensity, and immediate action give you what you asked for from the very beginning. The world building is superb, from the creation of new alien species all the way down to human office politics. The characters are three-dimensional with clear motives, dynamic pasts, and humanizing details."
High Prince Jarren Graf flees Lynta, his olfactorily-ruled home planet, after his throne is usurped. He strategically hides on Earth where he meets executive assistant Melissa Reyes whose life is upended by their fateful encounter. Melissa's unique scent captivates Jarren, igniting a powerful attraction that challenges his focus on reclaiming his throne and dismantling an oppressive system. Their relationship is fraught as Jarren
battles his primal instincts and Melissa grapples with her past traumas
and the surreal reality of Jarren's alien nature.
Jarren must protect his galaxy from potential destruction while confronting his feelings for Melissa. Melissa must let go of her rigidity and control. Set against a backdrop of interstellar politics and cultural rituals, To Desire the Stars weaves a tale of love, sacrifice, and the quest for autonomy.
TO DESIRE THE STARS
This multi-cultural sci-fi romance contains reference to
abusive relationships and non-consensual sexual situations.
The story is gender and non-binary inclusive.
T O
DESI R E
T H E S TA R S
VENUS CAMP B E L L
Book of Venus
To Desire the Stars
Copyright © 2025- Book of Venus
Manufactured in the United States of America
Print ISBN: 978-1-7324864-3-0
PLANET LYNTA (LARION CLUSTER)
PROL O G U E
DARKNESS MEANT SAFETY, and there was little dark left.
Hours became minutes, as Lynta’s two moons inched down
behind the Black Mountains. Within the Peddler’s Forest,
the sounds of night creatures lessened amid the cold silence
of a lingering winter.
High Prince Jarren Graf stepped out through the airlock
of his sub-light space jumper. His black military-issue pilot’s
boots fell heavy on the moist ground. Queen Celina stood at
the clearing’s edge, her dark-robed frame braced to bid him
goodbye. Her mourning robes flipped crisply about her.
Jarren halted before her and grimaced. His previous life
had evaporated in the wind. Chest tight, he noted fresh tears
streaked his mother’s face.
“I will return as soon as the Alliance has stabilized,”
Jarren said. His words echoed heavily. His mother nodded
but didn’t speak. Jarren’s jaw tightened, but he resisted the
urge to grip her hands. She did not need his pity.
Having Jarren flee their home planet wasn’t the preferred
next step. But when his father died without a presumption
of rulership, Jarren’s cousin, Milovar, had deposed him as
king presumptive. All within the week. If Jarren remained,
his assassination was all but ensured. The system of rulership
by scent was millennia old. The system repelled Jarren
even as he benefited from it…until now. And his mother
had weighed every known variable; they’d agreed. Fleeing so
he could regroup his off-world allies was the best option to
manage the upheaval. Still, it grated on his morality to run.
To delay the elimination of a caste system that kept so many
subjugated was simply unacceptable even if it was necessary.
The pungent scent of hunters wafted close. Too close
for comfort. Jarren reached out and pulled his mother’s
tired body close. He rested his chin on her head. The wind
whipped her dark hair, long and gray streaked but otherwise
like his own. His eyes caught the tinge of morning, on the
horizon. Time was up.
Stepping back, Jarren closed his eyes to focus. He
breathed deep, patterning his mother’s scent, memorizing
her new smell in his heightened Lyntan olfactory lobe. Her
mixture of aromas would be his beacon home. The slowly
dissipating essence of his dead father, the hint of heated
chulaa cream, and the subtle-sweet presence of his mother’s
favorite flower, the red decypheny, imprinted on his
memory. And more subtle; an “Of the Family” scent without
high birth. The almost unique scent of one not high born
but whose scent set them above others. A determined grin
danced briefly across his face, and Jarren squeezed Celina’s
shoulders.
“I will follow your scent when I return. I’ll find you no
matter how Milovar tries to cover your presence. Remember,
you are not a threat to his ascendancy. He certainly won’t
waste any energy on punishing you for my disappearance.
Just…keep out of his way,” Jarren said.
Pursing her lips and lifting her chin, his mother nodded.
“There is much to do. Be safe. Stay under the radar, for Galactic’s
sake. I scent the bounty hunters Milovar commissioned
to find you even now.”
Jarren nodded. They both had caught the scent. He
released her.
Celina looked away as a tear slid down her cheek and
escaped into the dark. Jarren studied her face as determination
thinned her lips. She reached within her heavy robes
and pulled out a brown envelope. “Your papers: birth certificate,
driver’s license, social security card, and documentation
of your schooling. All humans directly connected with your
documents are inaccessible.”
“I almost forgot.” Jarren frowned, grasping the packet.
“It’s all I am now with my essence so diminished.” He turned
toward his ship. “Trust Princess Veena will do what is necessary.
She knows Milovar’s reign would mean the end of peace
in our quadrant. She’ll find Council Advisors who don’t want
war any more than you or I.”
“Veena will organize the Inter-planetary Council Advisors
who support you. And the people of Lynta will support
your right to the throne against Milovar’s claim. But the
Guard won’t fight for you until you reclaim the scepter. We
can’t end this system without that power.” Celina’s gaze penetrated
him. “You must find a way to ensure our future.”
“As you say, Mother. A way will be found. I just need
time. Exile on Terra gives me that. My essence will be lost
among the variant trees and animals, muted among Terra’s
people. No bounty hunter could trace me. I’ll be a ghost to
Milovar.”
Celina frowned. “But—”
Jarren stopped her entreaty with a shake of his head. He
tucked his packet under one arm and stepped back through
the prime airlock and into his ship. If he wasn’t gone in the
next few minutes before the sun began rising, the Guard
scouts would register his craft launching. Their high-powered
spacers would take chase immediately, and no doubt
they had been ordered to destroy his jumper.
“Jarren,” his mother interrupted.
Without looking back, he paused.
“Be careful who you share scent with. Terrans are…
innocent. Should Terra’s smells not cover your presence
completely, those around you will pay with their lives. Especially
any humans. You know what Milovar would do if he
thought…” Her voice faded.
Jarren nodded. He risked more than his life alone. Hers
was necessary advice to heed. He wouldn’t put another
person in danger if he could help it.
His mother stepped away, her footfalls loud in the
dangerous still of early morning.
He gazed out a last time, his eyes scanning the dense
cobalt trees that circled the clearing. Celina was gone. With
his fingers tapping the airlock keypad, Jarren stood, stalwart,
as the door slid shut and the cabin pressurized. Just him now.
Alone. Jarren exited the metal decon room and secondary
airlock and trotted through to the small front cabin. His eyes
glazed over the jumper’s empty passenger seats and the blank
vid screen right of the pilot deck. Walking forward to the
cockpit door, he turned the knob and entered. At least the
cockpit didn’t feel vacuous.
Jarren curved his frame into the captain’s chair and
flipped three switches on the Pilot Panel Array. The familiar
whisper of his craft’s engine whirred around him. He swiveled
to his right and grasped the metal navigation stick. Soon
he’d be safely beyond the lightening horizon. He was overdue
meeting Marcus at the rendezvous point.
The ship lifted with a twist of his wrist. Jarren looked
down through his vidscreen at the retreating ground. Jaw
tight, he peered ahead as Lynta’s celadon sun rose ominously.
Creeds, no time. Jarren tapped the green power button at the
stick’s tip. Up he shot, with quick efficiency, leagues above
the coal tops of the distant mountains. He eased the stick
forward. Moments remained to get out of the atmosphere.
A sudden warning tingle in his spine forced Jarren
straight. The ship’s com unit crackled; he perused his front
viewer. The three burnished Elite Guard ships flanking him
pushed a curse past his lips. He’d waited too long to leave.
Have to run. Jarren tilted the stick and veered his ship away.
“Your Highness Prince Jarren, stand down,” barked a
male voice over his com unit. Jarren barely glanced at the
gray box.
“Not yet ready to die,” Jarren grumbled as he thought
through the variables. Minor adjustments to his route. Just
minor adjustments to be made. He hit the power button
again and pulled the stick back. The ship plummeted into
the receding shadow of the mountains behind him. Within
the safety of the dark, he slowed to a hover then shot the
space jumper forward with an experienced twist. Blue and
brown treetops blurred by at the bottom of his screen. The
maneuver was an old trick for shaking pursuing ships. Effective,
unless they were seasoned pilots.
“Commander!” the voice barked through the com.
“Ground your ship. Take no more evasive actions, or we shall
be forced to shoot you down.”
Jarren scanned the screen with singular efficiency. He
couldn’t get a front visual of his pursuers.
“Unit, split visual of front and rear, ascent and descent
areas,” Jarren bit out as he loosened his grip, and the ship
hovered again. His head throbbed.
“Affirmative, Captain,” his ship’s unit replied. The front
screen visual turned gray while Unit uploaded the zones
around the ship.
Jarren’s eyes darted over the screen. His hand grew slick
on the stick, but he dared not pause to wipe the sweat from
his palms. Likely only one route could get him out. He
accelerated again. Finally he spied the Guard ships aft. They
hovered at points A, B, and M.
Acceleration at four hundred regs. Gravitation minus two.
Jarren’s brow crinkled in concentration. Variable, the variables.
He almost had the route calculated.
The Guard crafts’ golden bellies glittered green in the
dawning sunlight as his ship pulled ahead. Jarren wasn’t sure
if they’d lost visuals on him as he sped off into the disappearing
shadows. He might have just been outdistancing them.
But he wouldn’t stop.
Again the com blared at him. “Last warning, Commander.
Stand down, or we will be forced to fire!”
Equations banged within his head until only one
remained, and then he had it—his new route. His heart
hammered against his chest. Sweat moistened his face. Now
or never.
“You need a target first, you Creeds.” Jarren laughed. The
odds of his success were favorable. Twisting, he reached over
and hit three blinking green buttons. The beige side paneling
beneath the lights lowered. His red slipdrive switch waited
a hand’s reach away.
“Unit, prepare for Light Slip.” He didn’t wait for the
ship’s computer to confirm. Jarren flipped the switch.
“Go.”
CHAPTER 1
THE CRASHING DEMITASSES shouldn’t have startled her.
In a coffee shop packed with people, Melissa Reyes should
not have blinked at the sound. Instead, she cringed instinctively.
Breaking ceramic was out of routine, and routine was
her bread and butter. Sure. That story always worked. Old
memories were definitely not the reason she wanted to jump
out of her own skin.
“Can I get a java to go, Sammy?” Lissa called out with a
shaky wave as she navigated the maze of people. Her nose
registered the rich, freshly brewed coffee, and she breathed in
the calming aroma. Nothing bad here. Get back on routine.
She stopped mid-stride as a surge of bodies blocked her
path.
Sammy nodded. “Sure thing, overachiever.” They flipped
their lazy brown hair off their forehead and turned to put in
her regular order.
Lissa silently counted, tapping her tan pumps on the
lacquer floor. Calm loosened her chest. She spied her order
coming up as the “routine” took over.
She felt bad for Sammy. The overworked college student
was twenty and selling four-dollar cups of coffee to help pay
for college. Their efforts wouldn’t make a dent. Lissa had
worked in a little coffee shop in Kansas nine years ago for
the same reason.
Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred. Lissa
nudged her way to the counter and threw down four crinkled
singles then snagged her cup just as another customer nearly
knocked it over. There wasn’t any more crowded a place than
Max’s Coffee Shop in springtime in Baltimore. Her morning
rote was firmly back in place.
Lissa saluted Sammy then navigated to the exit, her heels
clicking solidly amid the muffled stomp of business loafers.
She pushed the glass door open with one hand and her long
beige coat flipped back as air rushed in through the entryway.
Cup in hand, the breeze settling, she planted a foot in the
doorframe.
“See you tomorrow, Lissa,” Sam called at her back. Smiling
distractedly, she waved without turning as she skirted out
of someone’s way.
A dark suit and tie brushed past her going in. Tall. The
suit was tall. Professionally tailored, expensive material
towered in front of her like the Romanesque pillars holding
up one of those derelict plantation compounds near
her grandmama’s house in South Carolina—powerful,
unyielding. Maybe that was why her cup slipped; she got
pulled out of routine again. And for the first time in five
years of ducking and dodging in and out of Max’s, she didn’t
make the save.
The cup jostled out of her hand and toward the beautifully
cut blue material. The world slowed, then paused,
stretching out that moment.
“Spit and hellfire.” Lissa’s words slipped out as the cup
fell. The cheap paper container crashed to the floor, splattering
the last of its creamy insides onto a stiff pair of $1,500
A. Testoni shoes.
“Shit,” she hissed. Silence blanketed the coffee shop.
Without looking at the suit, Lissa ran over to the
condiment counter and grabbed gobs of napkins from the
built-in dispenser. The door groaned softly closed. Cheeks
burning, she looked anywhere but at her victim. No need to
be slammed with an accusing stare.
“I am so sorry,” she began as she knelt down and wiped
at the stiff brown tips. Heart sinking, she saw the leather
darken. It was no good.
Lissa struggled to her feet, gingerly dabbing at the coffee
drops she spied sinking into his suit jacket. “I’ll pay for that, I
promise,” she said hesitantly as she raised her gaze and forgot
to inhale. And it was probably for the best that her mouth
ceased functioning.
The man was…beautiful. He stood tall, with dark thick
hair that curled right where his crisply pressed—she spotted
the Armani cut now—shirt met his tanned neckline. She just
knew powerful muscles rippled beneath that cloth. Breathe!
With a lungful of fresh sweetness, her fantasies took off.
So he was tall and dark, but handsome wasn’t the right
word for him. Ruggedly dangerous was a better way of
putting it: stubborn chin, sensuous lips, high cheekbones.
Chris Hemsworth had nothing on this guy. And Melissa
Reyes, executive assistant and powerhouse problem solver,
had dumped her four-dollar cup of creamed-down coffee all
over him. If there was an impression to be made, she surely
must have made it.
Her hand slowed to a still at the lapel of his jacket. Exactly
how would she afford to replace his fifteen-hundred-dollar
shoes? She could barely pay her rent. Lissa tried to speak.
She only exhaled.
Finally, Tall Dark looked into her eyes. His oddly hazel
orbs, half shielded by thick black lashes, seemed to see into
her soul. Lissa shivered.
“Don’t worry about it.” The soft words caressed her like
a lover’s kiss. Lissa shivered again.
“But—”
He leaned toward her as the scent of hot chocolate teased
her nose. “Don’t worry about it,” he repeated.
Lissa might have been frozen. She could not have been
more still if she had been stone. Tall Dark drew the soiled
napkin from her hand and walked toward the counter. His
gaze released her. Her body awakened and, dumbstruck,
turned, pushed through the shop’s door, and tramped out
into the morning air. Her brain slowly revved up to its
normal speed.
What time was it exactly? Melissa squinted up at the sun
then glanced down at her classic Timex. 9:45 a.m. She would
be late for the staff meeting, or she’d be unprepared.
Distractedly brushing at the splatters of coffee on her
own brown skirt suit, Lissa shuffled. Get it together, chica!
She breezed through the glass entrance into the office building
where the Earth Microfinance Institute was housed. At
the elevators, she stepped through the nearest set of closing
mirror doors and pushed ten.
What. An. Idiot. What a ridiculous response to a man,
she thought as she pictured, with relief, her small, immaculate,
no-window cubicle with a “door.” With luck, Mr. Bigsby’s
four-window office, adjoining hers, might still be dark.
At least she’d be in comfortable surroundings. Good or
bad, work was like a second home, and she appreciated that
routine. The heat of her embarrassment would cool as she
checked her e-mail and shuffled papers. Besides, she still
couldn’t seem to formulate words yet. And her numb tongue
obviously originated from embarrassing herself in her favorite
morning hangout spot and not from brushing up against
Mr. Tall Dark. It had to be the former, because she’d barely
gotten a good look at the man.
Getting off the elevator, Lissa waved a distracted hello to
Jean at the front desk. The older woman winked and saucily
patted the neat auburn bun at the back of her head. Lissa
hurried by. She couldn’t field questions at the moment, and
Jean read people as easily as she read a tabloid’s feed. She’d
know something was up.
Lissa made her way out of the bright reception area and
down the two short halls to her office. Mr. Bigsby’s office
was still dark. Immersing herself in her morning ritual, Lissa
exhaled. She removed her coat, hung it on the coat rack next
to her door, flicked the light switch, and pulled out her chair.
The earlier coffee incident and her potent awareness of Tall
Dark were pushed to the back of her mind. A perfectly
stacked pile of papers in her wire in-box and the red message
light on her phone hailed her attention. She exhaled. Stupid
crashing coffee cups. And no coffee to show for all that drama
either. Her gaze only lingered a moment on the hand that
Tall Dark had touched. Time to work.
* * * * *
TEN MINUTES LATER, Lissa took off her reading glasses, let
out a deep breath, and grabbed a pad and pen. She hadn’t
gotten nearly enough work completed before the staff meeting,
but she’d wing it. Arriving late was not an option. Mr.
Bigsby always began staff meetings on time.
Lissa made her way back to the reception area. Feeling
more collected, she stopped to chat with Jean and laughed
as the woman immediately began dispensing the latest office
gossip. “Staff meeting, Jean,” Lissa said, fixing her expression
into an irritated scowl as she leaned away from the reception
desk.
Mr. Bigsby ran a “tight ship,” as he called the office. It was
probably the mathematician in him. All things in neat order.
Lissa epitomized orderliness. That was why she complemented
him well.
Jean wiggled her eyebrows. “Yep. I can see that, honey.
You need a map, too, or can you find the conference room
on your own?”
Lissa shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Rude vixen. Do your
job.” She slapped her writing pad on Jean’s desk with a wink.
Pivoting, she walked into the adjacent conference room and
pulled out her regular seat near the front of the long conference
table. Ten o’clock, staff meeting time. Lissa expectantly
eyed the conference room doorway. Others entered and took
seats around the table. It was five minutes before everyone was
settled and another five minutes before Mr. Bigsby appeared
with someone in tow. The meeting was starting late.
* * * * *
“MY ASSISTANT, MELISSA, is the one who keeps the office
afloat. Everyone defers to her on administrative issues when
I’m absent. And half of everyone defers to her when I’m here.
They just won’t admit it,” Jim Bigsby rumbled low as he led
Jarren into the conference room. “I defer to her as well. She’ll
get you set up and feeling right at home in no time.”
Jarren observed Melissa with a troubled gaze. He’d been
intoxicated by her scent from the moment she glided near
him in the coffee store. His skin tingled as he continued to
breathe in her fragrance. Her closeness made his body warm
with anticipation. Of all that was holy, he could easily lose
himself in her sweet earthy smell. He’d never been enveloped
in its like before; a complex mixture of Egyptian musk and
the tropical papaya, she smelled like the rarest of beautiful
Lyntan flowers.
Jarren took another moment to breathe in her essence.
His gaze strayed over her. Melissa sat relaxed and attentive
in a swiveling black chair. Her long ebony hair cascaded
down her back, flicking flirtatiously as she shifted in her
seat. Her smooth skin radiated tanned warmth from days
of play beneath a forgiving sun. Her full lips pouted with
innocent sensuality. He couldn’t see her eyes from where he
stood, but Jarren remembered their sky-blue intensity. She
had looked up at him, abashed, gently patting his chest with
those ridiculously brittle napkins. Her eyes had flickered
with self-assured intelligence and a well-hidden sense of
humor. He was sure she had broken more than a few hearts
with no more than a glance.
Creeds, but Jarren wanted to reach out and touch those
silky-smooth tresses, bury himself in her scent, gently suckle
her rouge lips. He could almost feel her hair’s alluring softness
as he imagined drawing the fanning locks close to his
face and breathing in her scent. He wanted her. He wanted to
combine his essence with hers and claim her. Need tightened
his expression as he fought to control his Lyntan mating
instincts.
The power of his desire was noteworthy. No possible
mate’s scent had ever affected him with such strength, but
claiming a mate in his current situation was a troubling
thought. He couldn’t understand her scent’s potency, but
he knew one thing. His attraction to her might present a
problem. The Lyntan urge to mate could distract him when
he should be concentrating on claiming his rulership and
finally eliminating the Lyntan caste system. Distractions
would threaten the security of his world and the lives of
those who supported his return to power. He would have
to be extremely wary around Melissa Reyes, for both their
sakes.
“Let me introduce you,” Jim said as they advanced into the
conference room. A tall portly man, he didn’t seem wasteful
with thoughts or words. Jarren respected the man’s efficiency.
This morning, Jarren was similarly inclined.
Jim took the chair at one end of the table, next to where
Melissa sat conspicuously staring down at the notepad she
held. Twenty people, aside from her, sat before him. Leaning
toward Melissa, he spoke quietly. Immediately, she straightened
and leaned in. Jarren didn’t like it. His eyes narrowed.
Exactly how involved was their relationship? Not that he had
a right to ask. But not knowing irked him.
Finally she looked up, her cheeks red but her gaze resolute.
Jarren’s skin tingled again. She had strong character. She
believed he would be angry about the coffee incident earlier,
but even concerned, she refused to cower. Jarren didn’t care
about his shoes. Earth currencies were easily duplicated; he
could easily buy another pair or have his ship’s fabricator
make another set. But Terrans were materialistic.
Jarren should have fumed at Melissa’s klutziness. He
hadn’t, of course. But Melissa didn’t know he placed more
value on people than possessions. The perks of an advanced
civilization, even one such as his. Given Terran material
priorities, Jarren was more than impressed that she met his
gaze with such solid determination.
“Have a seat, Jarren,” Jim said as he gestured to the empty
chair at his left. Jarren sat where bid, the chair briefly bending
to support his lithe figure. He met Melissa’s gaze and
nodded. Jim swiveled to face her.
“Lissa, this is Dr. Jarren Graf. He has graciously accepted
the director of microfinance options position we’ve been
trying to fill for so long. He and I will be shut up in my office
for about an hour after the staff meeting. It’s not on my calendar,
but reschedule around that time, okay?”
Melissa nodded. Egyptian musk caressed Jarren’s nose.
Jarren’s body responded; his briefs grew snug. That would
not do. He nodded in Melissa’s direction once more, then
angled away from her scent. “Ms. Reyes.”
For a moment, she paused before responding and seemed
thoughtful. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Graf. Welcome.” Her
eyes flickered first to his newly changed suit, then toward the
floor. She was thinking about the shoes.
Almost as if he’d read their parallel thoughts, Jim apologized.
“We are late starting here. Dr. Graf had an unfortunate
incident down at Max’s this morning. You’ll be getting
a receipt from Burberry for a new suit.”
Melissa’s face reddened, but she nodded. Tight-lipped,
she grasped the smooth side of the table. Her knuckles
blanched as she pulled her chair under. And Jarren could do
nothing in their current setting to ease her embarrassment.
Jim was oblivious to his assistant’s discomfort. Promptly
ignoring them both, he sat forward to address the rest of the
staff.
“Good morning, everyone. I apologize for being late.
Let’s hear the weekly project reports, and then I’ll introduce
our new staff member.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jarren noticed Melissa’s
glance dart under the table, probably to check again on his
ruined shoes. Her hair tumbled forward, temporarily hiding
her face. Jarren inhaled, then let out a strained breath. Her
smell haunted his thoughts. This had to stop. Think of
someone else—the Terran in the coffee store who resembled
his crewmate, Faheel. Or the muscular security guards at
the building entrance. Anyone but her. Resolutely, he shifted
his attention away from the stimulating intrigue that was
Melissa Reyes.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I have been blessed to never truly have experienced partner
abuse. I lived on the periphery of that trauma as a child.
My mother, previously harmed by the man who fathered
me, dedicated her younger adult years to protecting and
supporting primarily women escaping abusive relationships.
I spent my adolescence between a battered women’s shelter
and a rape crisis center. As a tween, I watched my mother
run the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence with
an eye for protection, healing, and empowerment. Domestic
violence is as ugly as it sounds, whether emotional, physical,
or both. And the impact hits every person who loves the
victim. If you are in an abusive relationship, there is help.
You deserve help. You deserve to control your own destiny
and to be free of the pain and fear. Reach out to the National
Coalition Against Domestic Violence today at www.thehotline.
org. There is a path to freedom.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
VENUS CAMPBELL is the Principal of the Book of Venus publishing and the Winner of the Kroger Award for Excellence in Creative Writing. She has finaled in various writing contests such as the Central Ohio Ignite the Flame and the New England Chapter- RWA First Kiss. Campbell is a member of the Romance Writers of America (RWA). To Desire the Stars is her second publication. Campbell focuses on interweaving paranormal elements into romance stories, creating unique worlds which challenge people’s perceptions of self and preconceived notions of human love and relationships.
There's a contentious succession taking place on your home planet and you need a place to hide out or you could lose your life. Earth is your chosen destination and with your alien technology, you can cloak your ship, generate everything you need to blend in and lie low, with little to worry you.
Unless you happen to bump into someone in a coffee shop who just might alter the course of your stay on Earth or even perhaps in Jarren's case when he meets Lissa, the whole course of your very existence.
This is pretty much where the book starts after a short preamble which introduces us to Jarren and his rather tricky situation where he has an overambitious cousin with eyes on rulership, a situation which requires Jarren to regroup and quickly, before he's eliminated.
Lissa has no idea when she accidentally tips coffee on Jarren what her clumsy spillage will mean for her but she soon does. In Campbell's book, it's all about the scent as her Lyntan race, of which Jarren is the leader, are themselves led by their noses especially in matters of mating and unfortunately, in Jarren's case, as a means to find those who are being hunted.
Lissa is an ideal partner for Jarren and he knows it from his first sniff but he has to subdue his scent or risk being found by alien bounty hunters.
But when they subsequently discover they will be working closely together, can Jarren keep his desire in check and is Lissa, by her proximity to him in serious space danger?
Parts of this book were great: I loved the way that it started and I think that Campbell brought it to a satisfying climax. I think her imagined world and the idea of scent worked well, like alien pheromones, and I got what she was trying to do with the considerations that Lissa has concerning past relationships, her daughter, Jasmine and now, her future which potentially could be VERY different indeed.
There is a lull in the middle of the book where Campbell establishes more characters and places beyond our own and again, it's needed but it dragged a little for me.
However, the book as a whole is well-written with a flow and purpose throughout so for the fan of fantasy/space romance looking for a quick summer read, then this is perfect.