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    Hudson: Intergalactic Dating Agency: Motor City Alien Mail Order Brides, #2
    Hudson: Intergalactic Dating Agency: Motor City Alien Mail Order Brides, #2
    Hudson: Intergalactic Dating Agency: Motor City Alien Mail Order Brides, #2
    Ebook129 pages1 hour

    Hudson: Intergalactic Dating Agency: Motor City Alien Mail Order Brides, #2

    By Ellis Leigh

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    These aliens are looking for love in all the wrong solar systems 

    Hudson knew from the moment he saw the flyer in a space station bathroom that a mail order bride from Earth was for him. He wanted a mate, someone to cherish, someone to spoil, and finding her in another species wasn't a big deal in his mind. Convincing his two shipmates to go along was the hardest part, and even then, he knew everything would work out for them.
 

    Macy had a plan. Go to school, become a doctor, and keep her twin sister healthy. If men fell to the side along the way, she could catch up on the whole dating thing later. But when said twin sister decided to apply for a mail order bride program as Macy, things got a little complicated. Suddenly there was a hot guy with rock-star charm looking at her as if she was the greatest thing on Earth, and she had no idea how to deal with that.
 

    One ad in a space station, one sister who should know better, and a positive attitude that's almost impossible to break. Almost. What would you do if you found out the man from your fantasies was more like the man from your science fiction?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKinship Press
    Release dateOct 11, 2016
    ISBN9781944336110
    Hudson: Intergalactic Dating Agency: Motor City Alien Mail Order Brides, #2
    Author

    Ellis Leigh

    A storyteller from the time she could talk, USA Today bestselling author Ellis Leigh grew up among family legends of hauntings, psychics, and love spanning decades. Those stories didn’t always have the happiest of endings, so they inspired her to write about real life, real love, and the difficulties therein. From farmers to werewolves, store clerks to witches—if there’s love to be found, she’ll write about it. Ellis lives in the Chicago area with her husband, daughters, and a German Shepherd that refuses to leave her side. Ellis can also be found writing tropey, erotic shorts with her bestie Brighton Walsh as London Hale or taking her suspense into the contemporary world as Kristin Harte.

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    • 5/5
      I really enjoyed reading about Macy and Hudson in this book and seeing how their story and relationship developed. It was also fun to get to see how Chloe and Cutlass were doing as well as getting to see a preview of the pair in the next book.

    Book preview

    Hudson - Ellis Leigh

    Chapter One

    Macy

    Application 325E

    Lead Generator: Facebook Ad

    Species: Human

    Planet: Earth

    Breeding Rank: Receptacle

    Intake Office: Detroit, Michigan, United States

    Original Content: There’s nothing I like more than to curl up with a good book and a glass of wine, but having a man in the picture to snuggle with would make it that much better.

    Translation: Human female seeks warm and quiet male to bring to her mating bed. Instructional documents included.

    "You did what?"

    Hear me out. Stacy—my sister and also, apparently, my pimp—put her hands up and tilted her head in a way that said she was going to attempt to argue her way out of the doghouse. She’d taken on that same exact position every time she’d done something stupid since we were kids, but I wasn’t having it this time. Nope. It was one thing to steal my dolls and cut off all their hair or ride my bike into the creek and leave it there to sink; it was completely another to sign me up for…for…this.

    I don’t want to hear you out, I said, trying to keep my voice hard and what I hoped was deadly. Not that I’d kill her, but I wanted her to be afraid. To be very afraid. I want to hear you say ‘I’ll fix it, Macy. I’ll get you out of this mess, Macy. I’m sorry I was intrusive and unbelievably arrogant, Macy.’

    Well, now you’re just being rude.

    The laugh that burst out of me sounded harsh even to my own ears. I’m rude? I didn’t go against your will and sign you up for some sort of perverted, modern-day mail order bride program.

    It’s not perverted. The eye roll was both implied and given, after a pause where my guess was she’d tried to fight the urge. We’d discussed her eye-rolling numerous times. Discussions that usually led to me screaming and her…well, rolling her eyes.

    But this time was different. This time, she’d truly overstepped. If I could feel more rage, I figured I’d probably die from it. Or maybe turn all black-eyed witch like Willow in that Buffy show. Though she’d been a lesbian at the time and had gone all destroy the world because her girlfriend had been killed right in front of her. I wasn’t gay, hadn’t had a boyfriend in—nope, totally not thinking about that length of time—and was only fighting with my sister. Bad analogy.

    I took a deep breath, trying really hard to stay calm and rational. Stacy, I don’t want to be part of a mail order bride program. I didn’t even know they still existed.

    Oh, sure. She tugged her long, dark hair into a ponytail that almost matched my own. Though usually, they’re for foreign brides, and there’s a big fee on the receiver’s end. This is totally something else, though.

    It was something else, all right. Great, so I should expect to be in a catalog for lonely men who want to write me letters.

    Catalog? Ew, no. It’s not the fifties, Mace. Another eye-roll. You’ll probably be up on some website. Don’t worry, though, I used a great picture of me for you. No one can tell us apart anyway.

    Well, didn’t that make everything better? I rubbed my forehead and paced the length of the room as I tried to figure out how to get through to her. Stacy was my twin, an almost exact duplicate of me genetics-wise, so how could we be so opposite? How could she know so little about me? How could she think this was something I’d be okay with?

    Stacy, let’s try this again. I don’t want to be a mail order bride. I don’t want to join some dating agency program to find me a man. I don’t even want a man. I want to finish med school, pass the second part of the USMLE, and pick a specialty. I want to get a solid match at a good hospital, work toward a good job, and pay off the ridiculous amount of debt I’ve incurred educating myself these last six years.

    Stacy sat on my couch—rolling her big, dark eyes again for good measure—and started to file her nails as if she had no problems in the world.

    No, you don’t.

    If I wasn’t busting my ass so hard to be a healer, I might have actually killed her. Yes, I do. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

    No, it’s all you ever wanted after Daddy put the idea in your head. Before he started pushing you as the smart one and the one who’d follow in his doctorly footsteps—

    Doctorly isn’t a word.

    Ooh, she gave good glare. Before he said you were going to be a doctor, you wanted to be a firefighter.

    Jesus, Stace. What kid didn’t?

    And then you wanted to be a dancer, but you sucked at it. Then it was a baker. Then a veterinarian.

    Humans, animals. Same difference. Sort of. I shrugged, but it was halfhearted. I really had wanted to be a vet when I was in middle school.

    And Stacy knew it.

    But then dear old Daddy got into your head, and you became a weird little version of him. A mini-Daddy, stethoscope and all.

    Not true. What made me want to be a doctor was almost losing my twin sister to cancer. Not that she needed that particular noose around her neck. I’m not as bad as Dad was.

    Please, she scoffed. Throughout high school, becoming a doctor was all you could think or talk about. It was all you actually cared about.

    That and keeping an eye on her to make sure she was okay. I don’t think any of us ever got over the year she was sick. Any of us except Stacy.

    You’re wrong, I said, still stuck on memories of her in a hospital bed. I was too young to stay with her, and my parents didn’t understand how much I worried. We didn’t have cell phones then, so there was no way to send a text or a quick message. My parents would sometimes go days without taking me to the hospital to see her, would skip over her name at the dinner table and brush aside my questions. On those nights, I’d cry, thinking my sister was dead and they didn’t tell me. I still got a little anxiety when we went too long without talking.

    But that was a long time ago, and I needed to focus before she steamrolled me into doing something I didn’t want to do. I cared about a lot of things beyond academics in high school. I liked being in band and cared about that.

    Stacy snorted. Yeah, and it’s a good thing you did. Otherwise, you’d still be the proud owner of a very sad little V-card. Though there was that whole throwing up thing with him.

    The way she scrunched her face and looked at me as if that situation had been my fault? Well, that was just mean. She was the one who’d given me the bottle of whiskey to drink before the big event, as she’d named it. That was such a bad idea. It wasn’t pretty, but my sex life—

    Don’t exaggerate. One summer with a bass drummer does not a sex life make.

    He played the quads.

    The nail file went flying past my head. Had she thrown that at me? The bitch.

    Are you hearing yourself? she screeched before I could comment on the flying-file-of-death thing. You’re nothing but a walking, talking studying machine. There is more to life than dead bodies and the possibility of being able to study live ones one day. You are wasting so much time not living.

    I’m living. But was I? My argument sounded weak, and I didn’t have the confidence in the statement to make it stronger. And once again, Stacy knew it.

    "Really? Because I haven’t seen any evidence of that in years. I thought maybe once you got to college you’d loosen up, but you just doubled down on the all I can do is study thing. Four years of no parties, no men, and no…anything fun was enough, but no, you had to sign up for medical school. Are you going to spend another four years studying before you begin some horrific, all-consuming lifestyle known as residency? She shook her head and gave me a pitying sort of look that made my skin itch. Aren’t you lonely, sis?"

    Oof. And wasn’t that a question I didn’t want to think about? Of course, I was lonely. Long hours in classes, labs, and

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