
E.M. Hamill has a new queer women-led space western out (pan, lesbian, aro/ace), Team Huntress book one: Whiskey and Warfare. And there’s a giveaway!
Running on caffeine and spite with nothing left to prove. GOLDEN GIRLS meets FIREFLY in this rollicking space opera adventure.
Maryn Alessi retired from mercenary service after her last assignment went horribly sideways and settled down on a quiet planet with the love of her life. Unexpectedly widowed, Maryn must fulfill a promise to return her mateās ashes to zer home planet for funeral rites, but a brutal civil war has destabilized space travel.
Former Artemis Corps sisters-in-arms and their sassy ship, the Golden Girl, are up to the task, counting on luck and their rather sketchy cargo business to get Maryn passage through the contested star lanes. But when the crew of the Girl rescues survivors of a ruthless war crime, Maryn and her ride-or-die friends must take up their old profession to save the lives of innocents from a genocidal dictator.
Warnings: violence, genocide, aging, chronic illness, grief (death of spouse), PTSD
Praise for the Book:
āThis is the story we all need now ā filled with so much love and respect and genuinely fun adventure.ā –KD Edwards, author of The Last Sun
āEvery element of it just SANG. The story was *chefās kiss*. This book is truly special.ā –Sarah Chorn, author of The Necessity of Rain
“A fantastic read, a thoroughly delightful romp through space with an all-female main cast that blends crazy action scenes with deep reflection on what it means to grow older. This isnāt your parentsā Golden Girls.” –J. Scott Coatsworth, QueerSciFi.com
Giveaway
E.M. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour:
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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47318/
Excerpt

Jac regarded Col with an arched eyebrow. āWhat happens to your species as you age? I donāt see you looking any different than the last time we got together.ā
āYou can’t tell?ā Col stroked her furry cheeks. āI have more hair on my face.ā
āDonāt we all?ā Maryn gave a shaky laugh. āI look like I just hit puberty. I think my moustache is glorious.ā
āI have also developed lower breasts,ā the Boshi said, revealing her catlike teeth in a silent snarl of disgust.
āMine are heading south too.ā Jac cupped her tits, staring at them in contemplation.
āNo. Lower breasts.ā Col motioned to mid-abdomen beneath her tunic when it became clear they did not follow. āMy second set.ā
All three humans stared at her with varying degrees of curiosity. āWhat are they for?ā Scylla asked.
āIn my society I would be expected to help nurse the litters of my children. If I had any.ā Colās furry ears flapped as she shuddered. āMewling, damp little things. Why anyone would want them is a mystery.ā
āOurs turned out okay, and I didnāt have to get cozy with anything but a syringe,ā Jac said with a laugh. āBut Iām pretty sure Maya doesnāt expect me to breastfeed our grandkids.ā
āDonāt look at me. I got rid of the plumbing a long time ago.ā Scylla slapped her flat chest with both hands.
āHow old is Maya now?ā Maryn was chagrined to realize she hadnāt asked after her honorary niece.
āTwenty-one. She finished her first degree and sheās in medical residency on Telluride Station.ā Jac beamed with pride. āHer gene dads still practice in New Denver, so sheās living with them. Theyāve been trying to convince us to settle down there, where itās safe and boring, but weāre not ready for that.ā Something Maryn couldnāt name flitted through her expression before Jacās face softened. āShe sends her love, by the way.ā
āSweet kid. I owe her a graduation gift. What a lousy aunt I am.ā She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue.
āYouāre not.ā
āI havenāt even seen her since she was six, when you came to visit.ā
āShe gets it, Mar.ā Jacās voice was gentle but firm, trying to head off Marynās slide into self-recrimination, but it was too much.
āI hate this. All of it.ā She balled up the soggy paper in her fist. āI have six days left to take Andelek to Xyri before the scheduled rites and I have got to pull my shit together. I could check interplanetary express freight pricing, I guess. Theyāve probably raised the rates because of the war, but I can afford it.ā
Her eyes grew hot again. āBut it just seems so wrong. Ze isnāt a box of supplies to be shuffled off world by a robotic pilot like so much cargo. But I donāt know what else to do.ā Maryn made a frustrated noise as her voice snagged on the words. Tears came again whether she wanted them or not, and she swept the back of her hand over her eyes. āIām running out of time.ā
āAbout that.ā Jac exchanged a long glance with Scylla before she continued, āWe were talking. We want to take you to Xyri.ā
The warm burst of astonished gratitude faded against an electric-jolt corkscrew of anxiety drilling into her chest. Shame came next, as always, and self-disgust filled her mouth with a sour, acetic burn.
āAre you sure?ā she stammered. āItās such a dangerous flight plan right now. It wonāt complicate your business?ā
āNah. Weāre still freelance.ā Scylla shrugged. āMostly private transactions. Weāre our own bosses.ā Her husky voice softened. āAnd you know the Girl would love to see you.ā
āI miss her too.ā Golden Girl was the well-loved privateer cruiser theyād pooled their end of tour bonuses to purchase when they left the Corps. The ship had been their home, their means of independence, and she had a definite personality. Its AI learning interface had picked up more human nuance with every mission until they treated it like a fifth crew member.
āThe Girlās small enough she doesnāt attract much attention on sensor sweeps. We need to go through Konecthedot system anyway on ⦠business.ā Jac traded another secretive nod with Scylla, and Maryn wondered what they werenāt saying.
āThat is next to the front.ā Col wasnāt fooled by the innocence act, her peridot eyes narrowed.
āDoesnāt mean it wonāt be risky, but we can get you there in plenty of time for the remembrance rites.ā Scylla cocked her head and her deep brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, glinted with hope and mischief. āWhatcha think, Mar? We can make it a girlsā trip if Col wants to tag along.ā
āYes!ā the Boshi exclaimed in her sweet, breathy voice. āI have been bored out of my skull. I can work anywhere since CosBank gave me remote branch equipment.ā
What her friends offered was too generous to turn down. She took a deep, steadying breath. āI donāt know what to say, exceptāā she gestured helplessly. āThank you.ā
Scylla gulped the rest of her wine, her enthusiasm building. āKonecthedot sector might be close to the front, but we havenāt had any issues yet. Itās less dangerous than anything we did when we were mercs. Weāve got two stops to make on the way, but after that, we head straight for the wormhole and Xyri. We can transport you faster without picking up passengers at every station like the star liners do.ā
āGlobney said the Qetish fleet is blocking the Pashni.ā Maryn twisted her fingers together to keep them from shaking.
āThey donāt bother flights that originate anywhere other than Khepra, from what we heard,ā the pilot assured her, and amended with a skyward glance, āLeastways, not much.ā
āI havenāt been off world since ā¦ā she faltered.
Terror. Black, endless space. Isolation. The memory threatened to overwhelm her already fragile composure.
āWe know.ā Jac stroked her forearm.
Of course they did. Theyād saved her life.
Author Bio

E.M. (Elisabeth) Hamill writes adult science fiction and fantasy somewhere in the wilds of eastern suburban Kansas. A nurse by day, wordsmith by night, she has sworn never to grow up and get boring.
Frequently under the influence of caffeinated beverages, she also writes as Elisabeth Hamill for young adult readers in fantasy with the award-winning Songmaker series.
She lives with her family, where they fend off flying monkey attacks and prep for the zombie apocalypse.
Author Website: https://emhamill.wordpress.com
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/EMHamill
