Crossing the River: Science Fiction Romance stories, #4

By M. L. Buchman

Persephone loves the free-wheeling lifestyle of an inter-planetary freighter pilot. Like her namesake of Ancient Greece, she lives a two-fold life. Part of the year sequestered in deep space and part in various ports with a good friend and hopefully a willing man. 

Until her heading converges with fellow pilot Reggie. Shy yet quirky, teasing yet kind. He possesses great depths that only Persephone can cross over. 

When their orbits suddenly diverge, Reggie must plot a new course to reclaim his one true love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393918493

M. L. Buchman

USA Today and Amazon #1 Bestseller M. L. "Matt" Buchman has 70+ action-adventure thriller and military romance novels, 100 short stories, and lotsa audiobooks. PW says: “Tom Clancy fans open to a strong female lead will clamor for more.” Booklist declared: “3X Top 10 of the Year.” A project manager with a geophysics degree, he’s designed and built houses, flown and jumped out of planes, solo-sailed a 50’ sailboat, and bicycled solo around the world…and he quilts.

Book preview

Crossing the River

Crossing the River

a science fiction romance

M. L. Buchman

Buchmann Bookworks, Inc.

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About This Book

Persephone loves the free-wheeling lifestyle of an inter-planetary freighter pilot. Like her namesake of Ancient Greece, she lives a two-fold life. Part of the year sequestered in deep space and part in various ports with a good friend and hopefully a willing man.

Until her heading converges with fellow pilot Reggie. Shy yet quirky, teasing yet kind. He possesses great depths that only Persephone can cross over.

When their orbits suddenly diverge, Reggie must plot a new course to reclaim his one true love.

Prologue

Her face.

A hand painting her face.

An ochre overtone highlight for the cheeks.

But not for the deep-space dark of her hair.

At first, clean carbon seeking her outline. For a while, the artifice of sharp acrylics questing after her inner form. But now it is only oils—their muddy tang, smooth flow, and shading—that provide any hope of capturing her skin.

I am aware of her skin, the painting, and the tones.

However, the I is rather more elusive.

Once there was a name.

One so often spoken that there was no need to remember it, for it had lived on the tongue with an indescribable depth of meaning.

1

No! You didn’t!

Persephone giggled. It was her most significant challenge to ever being dignified—she’d never learned to laugh, which left her with the delighted giggle from childhood as a sole mechanism for displaying humor.

Only