Project ELE: A New World

By Rebecca Gober and Courtney Nuckels

From best-selling authors Rebecca Gober and Courtney Nuckels comes a new novella set 80-years after Project ELE. The ELE Series is a best-selling Young Adult Science Fiction Romance series.

Austin has spent most of her adolescent and young adult years in constant pain due to her broken Empath powers that cause her to be a Receiver. All she dreams of is the day when she can afford the procedure to turn it all off. When she meets Chance—a mysterious stranger who somehow blocks her gift—she finds herself rethinking everything.

The ELE Series will appeal to fans of The Gender Game by Bella Forrest, Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard, and A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CTP Publishing
• Release date: Feb 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781634223645

Rebecca Gober

Rebecca Gober was born in Houston, Texas in 1982 and spent most of her life growing up in Dallas, Texas. In between working full time, being a wife and mother of two, Rebecca has never let her passion for reading and fiction fall through the cracks. Rebecca Gober's first book, Night Marchers, which she co-authored with her best friend and partner in crime, Courtney Nuckels, was released in e-book format in October of 2011. Since then Rebecca Gober and Courtney Nuckels have released the sequel to Night Marchers: Redemption as well as Project ELE, Finding ELE, Exposing ELE and Surviving ELE which are part of a new YA apocalyptic series that has a paranormal twist.

Book preview

1

E xcuse me, Miss!

I look up to see a man sitting in a booth at the far end of the otherwise-empty café, trying to get my attention.

Where did he come from? From where I’m standing, I should have noticed him come in. Or at least felt him walk past me.

I look around for Mel, but I don’t see her on the floor. The man waves his hand enthusiastically at me, so I set down the maple syrup container I’m filling, wipe my hands on my wrinkled apron and head over to his booth begrudgingly.

My shift is nearly over and my goal was to get my side work done so I could leave as soon as possible. But, I guess that’s not in the cards for me tonight.

I pull out my tablet as I approach and stare at it intently to avoid any possibility of eye contact.

Eye contact is a no-go for me. Too many emotions can be received through a simple gaze. After all, the eyes truly are the window to the soul. Nearing the end of my double shift, I've just about hit my pain quota for the day and my meds are already wearing off. I reach into my pocket to grab one of my faster acting pain meds and swallow it dry before I reach his table.

Yes, can I help you? I ask with a hint of annoyance in my tone.

"I don’t know, can you?" He asks in a flirtatious manner.

Great, he’s not just a lame jokester, he’s a poor flirt. This is so not my day. It’s not uncommon for me to get hit on by men due to my appearance. Because of this, I’ve learned the perfect ‘leave-me-the-freak-alone-or-I’ll-cut-you’ look to send them on their way. Unfortunately for tonight, that would require my looking up from the tablet, and I’m too exhausted for that at the moment. So, I just respond with an overly loud exhale.

Without looking at him, I can tell that he’s giving me a thorough once over; most likely trying to get a better look at my eyes. My dramatic eye color has been a consistent source of unsolicited compliments or awestruck commentary for as long as I can remember. I’ve heard hundreds of adjectives used to basically describe the color black over the years. From flattering adjectives such as black velvet, rare onyx, raven colored or dark as midnight; to the opposite side of the spectrum with witchy-witchington creeper eyes and death gazer. The latter ones were coined by the fifth-grade evil-twins whom I ended up being housed with for three horrible months.

I lower my head so my eyes are even further out of his view before I clear my throat, signaling that I will not be repeating my initial question again.

He chuckles. Well okay then, could I at least have a menu? Pretty please?

Without a word, I grab a menu from the booth behind me and plop it on the table top in front of him. Being rude is probably going to lose me any possible tip I could receive, but I’m hurting, and my patience has worn thin.

When I turn to walk away, he begins obnoxiously reading the drink selection out loud to me to make it known that I’ve not been dismissed yet.

Poof! And just like that, my thin line of patience has done vanished with this man. I turn back towards him and groan loudly.

Hmm, do I feel like having a coke or an iced tea? He mutters to himself uninhibited.

I begin tapping my foot to make my annoyance more evident because he’s obviously not getting the hint. That’s when I notice that the front part of my shoe is breaking apart from the sole. Ugh! Seriously?

Unlike the average nineteen-year-old, a pair of shoes is the last thing I want to spend my money on. An unnecessary expenditure for such a thing cuts into my savings, which means I’ll have to wait another month for my procedure.

A month is excruciatingly long when all you can think of is the pain you feel twenty-four-seven. Pain has become a part of me; it’s who I am now. Since my seventh birthday it’s been there, taunting me, pricking every edge of my soul. There’s a way to turn it off and I plan to take that way. Ghosting is the medical term for the procedure. A permanent fix that turns off all human emotions and feelings; it's rarely recommended except to those with the most extreme gifts.

Normal people call them gifts or abilities. A gift; what a ludicrous name for this plague. The doctors confirmed that my circumstance qualifies me for the Ghosting procedure, but it comes with a hefty price tag. I’ve been saving up for it ever since I can remember. Employed in some shape or form since I was ten, I’ve saved nearly all of my income in anticipation of getting rid of this agony that has haunted most of my existence.

The man clears his throat and finally gives an answer. "I think I’ll take a cup of coffee and