Science Fiction Books

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The Cost of Being a Rifter

 

Trust, secrecy, sacrifice, and life beside the rift.

Rifters scene

Becoming a Rifter is not a childhood dream. It is not glory. It is not adventure. It is an invitation. Not everyone receives one.

A Rifter must be intelligent, quick-thinking, and capable under pressure. They must know how to fight, how to endure pain, and how to face fear without freezing. Monsters do not care about speeches or noble intentions. When the rift opens, hesitation can kill not only a Rifter, but everyone standing beside them. If the Rifters fail, Earth is vulnerable. They must not fail.

That is why trust matters above all else.

Rifters work in small groups, often only six to ten people. Every member must trust the others completely. When a creature emerges from the rift in the dead of night, there is no time to question whether someone will hold the line, watch your blind spot, or drag you home wounded. A single weak link can dooms everyone.

That kind of trust creates bonds stronger than friendship. But it also creates distance from the rest of the world.

Only Rifters know the truth about the rift.

To everyone else, strange noises in the night might be blamed on volcanic vents or shifting earth. Missing livestock becomes bad luck. Odd tracks are dismissed as tricks of weather and mud. The Rifters protect that secrecy carefully. Panic helps no one. Fear spreads faster than monsters.

But secrecy has a cost.

A Rifter learns to lie convincingly. Sometimes to neighbors. Sometimes to friends. Sometimes to people they love. “No, there was no monster.” “It was only steam from a volcanic vent.” “You worry too much.”

The lies protect the town, but they also build walls between Rifters and ordinary life.

Most people spend their summers celebrating warmth, festivals, and long evenings beneath the stars. Rifters spend theirs on guard duty.

From the summer solstice until the fall equinox, the rift opens at night. During those months, sleep becomes precious. Rifters keep watch in darkness while the rest of the world rests safely unaware. They learn to function exhausted. Hypervigilant. Listening for sounds no one else notices. Seeing auras no one else sees.

And every summer, they surrender a part of ordinary life again. That may be the greatest cost of becoming a Rifter: existing between two worlds. For part of the year, a Rifter can laugh at gatherings, rejoin the world with regular concerns, and pretend life is simple. Then summer comes, and they return to the edge of the rift where secrets, monsters, and responsibility wait in the dark.

But despite the burden, people still accept the invitation.

Because someone must stand watch.

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The Amalfi Curse: A Book I Couldn’t Put Down

 

Why Sarah Penner’s latest novel gave me a serious book hangover…

Amalfi Curse book cover

I’m a definite Sarah Penner fan, so I was excited to finally get to her latest novel, The Amalfi Curse. I’m happy to report that I was not disappointed.

From the very beginning, this was one of those books that hooks you fast and refuses to let go. I found myself staying up far too late, dealing with the inevitable book hangover the next day because I simply could not put it down.

Like Penner’s previous novels, The Amalfi Curse alternates between a story set in the past — lightly sprinkled with magic — and a present-day storyline that slowly adds questions, depth, and nuance to what came before. This structure is one of the things I love most about her writing. She doesn’t just tell a story; she invites the reader in. She lets you guess. She encourages you to question. She keeps you curious.

Switching between past and present, between two storylines and two protagonists, doesn’t always work in fiction. Sometimes one timeline feels stronger than the other, or one story stalls while the other carries the weight. But Penner handles this beautifully. Both storylines have clear arcs. Both main characters grow and change. And each timeline gives the other meaning.

By the time the threads come together, the experience feels earned — emotionally satisfying and intellectually engaging in equal measure.

If you enjoy historical mysteries with a touch of magic, dual timelines, and stories that invite you to actively participate as a reader, The Amalfi Curse is well worth your time.

And now, like always, I can’t wait to see what Sarah Penner writes next.

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Need an escape? Space Squad 51 is Fully in the Sol.

 

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The world’s a little too serious lately. So I made something that isn’t.

Squad 51 wrangles with the sol’s strangest disasters so no one else has to.

The series is now complete.

If you’ve been here from the beginning, thank you. If not, this is your invitation.

 

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Ghostdrift: A Brilliant, Bittersweet Farewell to Fergus Ferguson

 

Suzanne Palmer closes her Finder series with imagination, heart, and a whole lot of delightful chaos

book review of Ghostdrift by Suzanne Palmer

Suzanne Palmer’s Ghostdrift delivers exactly what I’ve come to adore about the Finder series. It’s an ingenious blend of sharp sci-fi imagination, character-driven chaos, and plots that twist themselves into delightful knots. As the fourth and final book in the series, it remains wonderfully true to form: Fergus Ferguson sets out to track down one thing, only to stumble spectacularly into something entirely different. It’s his special talent.

Once again, Palmer throws Fergus into a cascade of predicaments, each more troublesome, clever, or downright bizarre than the last. He wriggles, improvises, stumbles, and strategizes his way through danger with a mix of competence and sheer stubborn will. Watching him navigate crises is half the fun, and the other half is marveling at just how deftly Palmer constructs these situations.

Palmer’s imagination is a rare treasure. Her settings feel lived-in, textured, and genuinely alien without ever slipping into confusion or excess. Her plots are complex, yet they read with the ease of a well-worn escape route. And her characters, Fergus most of all, carry the emotional heart that elevates these books beyond adventure into something richer. Friendship, loyalty, grief, humor, and found family is all there, wrapped in an irresistible sci-fi romp.

If there’s a downside, it’s purely personal: there will be no more Fergus Ferguson stories. I’m going to miss this character and the wild orbit he seems destined to tumble through. But I also can’t wait to see what Palmer dreams up next. If her future work carries even a fraction of the spark found in these pages, it’ll be worth the wait.

Ghostdrift is clever, heartfelt, twisty, and full of the narrative nourishment that makes a story feel downright yummy. A perfect finale.

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Crossings and Thresholds

 

A bonus story from the Rifters universe…

Crossings, Rifters bonus story

Darkness wrapped its fingers around the last dregs of day, pulling down the sun, leaving behind bruising colors that faded into black. Cordelia Swit sat on a fallen log with her best friend in the woods. Before them rose two obsidian pillars in a small clearing among the pines.

The pines in the high desert of Oregon didn’t grow into the impressive towers as the forests to the west in the Cascades to the coast, but their tops teased the descending night and welcomed a chill more associated with winter than early July. It would be another week or so before warmth elbowed its way into the hours after sunset.

Cordelia huddled with Dottie Hessler, her best friend, under a quilt. The two of them wore bearskin coats, knitted mittens, and scarves, but it wasn’t enough to chase away a case of the shivers. Dottie pulled out a canteen and two cups, placing them on a boulder in front of them. Before she could poor the steaming contents of the canteen, Cordelia stopped her.

The heady aroma of well-brewed coffee hit Cordelia’s nose, and she sighed. “It will get cold too fast in the cups.”

“You’re right.” Dottie took a sip and handed the canteen over. Her usually prim curls were stuffed under a hunting cap she had taken from her father. The earflaps were down and tied under her chin so they’d stay down. Where Dottie was fair and light and giggly, Cordelia was darker, coarser, more brooding.

Dottie had said that’s why there were such good friends, because they fit together like salt and paper, like light and dark, like teasing and serious. This held true as Settler grew and more people occupied the town. Each of them always knew what the other needed and never shied away from providing it.

Cordelia sipped cautiously without flinching at the soft pinch of scalding coffee on her lips and tongue. Feeling something other than bone-boring cold was welcome. “Too bad it can’t stay hot until morning.”

“Now there would be an invention. I don’t suppose our resident genius blacksmith could come up with something?”

“We’ll bring it up at the Rifter meeting tomorrow.”

“Let us have nothing to report.” Dottie sent her wish out into the universe, and as her words faded, the obsidian pillars sizzled into life. Blue fingers of energy licked up their sides, reaching into the sky, then arching in toward each other to form a circle. She set down her cup and clutched at Cordelia’s arm.

Cordelia stood to face whatever monster was about to set foot on their world, clutching a sword in one hand and a club in the other. With a deep breath, Dottie mustered her courage and took the club, brandishing it over her shoulder.

The blue ball of light intensified and expanded. Cordelia brandished the sword. Dottie leered.

“Monsters not welcome here,” Dottie yelled, her voice growling, wrapping her nerves in armor.

Cordelia snarled too, her grip tightening on the hilt of the sword.

A spark of yellow, like the ember from a fire, flitted out from the rift and landed on Dottie’s boot. She reached down and brushed it off, jolting as her fingers brushed over the ember.

“You shouldn’t touch it,” Cordelia warned too late. She grabbed her friend by the shoulders and jerked her upright. “Are you okay? What happened?”

The glow from the rift cast a hellish hue over Dottie’s skin and her mouth hung slack-jawed as if she had entered the realm of phantoms.

Cordelia shook her. “You’re scaring me.”

As suddenly as the rift opened, it closed. Dottie blinked and laughed. “Well, that was quite the rush, my friend.”

“What happened?” Cordelia furrowed her brow.

“I have the same question for you.”

“Let’s get you home and rested.”

By the light of the endless sprinkle of stars overhead, they picked their way through the forest to their homes.

The next day, Cordelia toiled at washing the bedding, taking the sheets out of the kettle that had been sitting overnight, schlepping clean water from the lake, rinsing and rinsing again, scrubbing on the washboard, rinsing again, and she had just finished ringing out the sheets. She kept one eye on the position of the sun and swiped the sweat from her brow. When the sun started to lower, the Rifters would meet at the blacksmith’s and go over what had happened last night and how to adjust their guardianship of Settler and their world.

Taking a deep breath, she stood still for a moment, letting the cool breath from the far-off Cascades caress her heated face, asking her body for a second wind to get the washing hung on the line. Before she had finished her brief rest, she heard the pounding of feet on the dirt road passing by the house.

“Cordelia!” a frantic voice called.

She fluttered open her eyelids and squinted at Gregory Hessler racing her way. The heat of day didn’t stop the chill from entering her blood. Mr. Hessler didn’t run, didn’t’ become frantic. Without him saying a word, she knew something was wrong with Dottie.

Cordelia left the washing and dashed off to meet her neighbor. “What’s wrong?” she huffed when they were close enough to speak.

“Dottie. It’s Dottie.” He panted so hard he could barely speak. He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward his ranch with him. “You have to come. Please.” His cracking tone cracked Cordelia’s heart.

Before they reached the Hessler’s ranch, they ran into Dottie. She skipped toward them, twirling, and squealing in off-key notes. Her hair whipped wildly around her face, and her dress was on backwards.

Cordelia stumbled to a halt, feeling the blood drain from her face. “Get the others, Gregory.”

“What happened last night?” His eyes welled and demanded an answer from her.

She couldn’t look him in the eye or her best friend. “I don’t know.” She swiped a tear off her cheek. “I wish I had a better answer.”

“I do too.”

“I’ll stay with her. Get the others.”

Dottie’s eyes glowed with an eerie light and a purple aura haunted her as she laughed and twirled. Dottie blinked, and the aura and glow in the eyes faded. Her expression twisted. “What’s happening?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Cordelia reassured her friend.

Gregory Hessler ran off faster than Cordelia could form an apology. She said it to Dottie instead. “I fear you’re not quite you, dearest friend. I’m so sorry I didn’t keep you safe.” Worse, what if whatever had happened to Dottie spread to the rest of the town?

Taking a risk, Cordelia took Dottie’s hand and led her back to the house. “I promise to do better. I promise my life and soul.”

 

 

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Space Weed Enters the Sol!

 

Happy release day to Space Weed! This novel completes the Space Squad 51 series. Enjoy!

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The entire Space Squad 51 series has been a mashup of things I’ve always loved: disaster stories, first responders, sci-fi B-movie chaos, and classic science fiction wonder. These stories came out ridiculous and heartfelt and strange in all the best ways.

But more than anything, I care about characters who have to face themselves.

In Space Weed, Nikili Echols is dealing with a disaster that doesn’t fit neatly into any box. And neither does she. To get through it, she has to stretch beyond who she thinks she is as a leader, as a mother, and as a person to figure out what actually matters when everything is on the line.

There’s tension. There’s weirdness. There’s a lot of heart.

Also:

  • space charades (yes, really)
  • overly eager ORS volunteers on Eris
  • and a chapter that’s my love letter to 2001: A Space Odyssey, Twin Peaks, and Jack L. Chalker

This book made me laugh. It made me lean in. It reminded me why creating stories matters.

If you’ve been on this journey with Squad 51, thank you.
If you haven’t, this is your invitation.

Get on board. Escape beckons.

On sale everywhere fine ebooks are sold!

SPACE WEED

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