Homa (signed paperback)

This is a STAND-ALONE novella.

This book is NOT PART of the Red Dog Conspiracy series.

From New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Patricia Loofbourrow.

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Danger is in the air ...

Fourteen-year-old Muree and her little brother live in the tunnels under Homa, stealing to survive, always on guard against the alien Zecla and their mechs.

But when the mechs suddenly turn on them, the two children find themselves in a pandemic of galactic proportions.

Warning: creepy absentee father, depictions of illness and death, underage sexuality (same age, consensual), parental betrayal, innuendo, humans used for food by aliens.

There are four point of view characters: two human, two alien.

This book was written in 2008, and is now being published for the first time.

This paperback will only be produced if you order it! Please allow 6-8 weeks for your order.

Enjoy an excerpt from Homa:

A Trader stand, and a basket of oranges on the corner. Oranges!

I pulled at my brother's hand. "That's a new Trader. Ready?"

Johba looked up at me and nodded, a broad grin on his freckled face. An easy mark.

The air in the crowded, metal-lined tunnel felt steamy hot, and metal-greasy. Mechs had been here.

Me and Johba went towards the Trader booth through the crowded passageway. The Trader stood behind the counter, talking to another Umun in the flickering long-bulb light.

Zecla didn't come here often; I liked it better that way. Only the Slaves knew what the Zecla did if they caught you, and they would never tell.

The counter held a stack of jars of hair cream (Want to move up in the world? Use Vyoh's arm and leg cream, guaranteed to grow a thick furry coat!), a basket of tools, several bags of greens, and a shallow basket, too full of oranges, near a corner.

Holding Johba's hand, I moved to the side the oranges sat on. The mun talking to the Trader finished up and left. The Trader turned to us and grinned at Johba. "What you need?"

The Trader wore the same brown and black we all did, but he had to be an escaped Day Slave. No other Umun would speak Inglis with such a strong Zecla accent. I reached into my bag. "I got copper wire."

"Oh!" The Trader's dark blue eyes brightened, and he leaned forward, over the counter.

I kept my hand in the bag, as if rummaging around.

The Trader said in a bright voice, "How much you got there?"

I pulled my hand out with a jerk, my elbow jostling the oranges, which spilled onto the floor.

"Oh, no!" I cried out. "I'm so sorry!" I knelt beside the stand and picked up the oranges as they rolled around the floor, putting two in my bag, the rest back in the basket.

"No worry, young one," he said, in a soothing tone. "You get that copper out the bag, just take your time. Any time you find copper, missy, I give good price." Another mun came up to the counter; he turned to him. "One minute, sir, then I help."

The second he turned, we ducked down, moving into the crowd, keeping our heads low, pulling our hoods up to blend with the rest. Mama told me rushing only draws attention, so we didn't rush. We turned the corner as the tunnel did.

No shouts came from behind.

Johba did well, never once looked back.

We walked the charred, rusted tunnel, Johba's hand slick with sweat. This tunnel's lights worked. No mechs up or down, and the other Umuns moved along past without a glance.

I lost grasp of him, then felt a jolt of fear as I scrabbled to find his hand.

"We should have worn gloves," Johba whispered.

"Too hot." I moved him faster, to keep with the pace of the crowded tunnel, the sack banging against my leg as we walked.

Something didn't feel right.

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