Life for Sale

The sequel to Love for Sale. Book II in the Tomorrow’s Angels Series.


Mayfair Electronics has created life.

But four of their Special Editions–sentient androids indistinguishable from human–have escaped.

Rebel Christian Aguillard and his owner, March, are on the run, but they have a bigger problem than his creator’s plan to destroy him. They’ve discovered that one of the renegades has suffered a dangerous malfunction, threatening them with more than just exposure. Trapped on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic, March and Christian must stop the insane robot before someone else dies. All the evidence points to March being the killer’s next victim.

Life for Sale is a sci-fi romance, a romantic suspense, and a study of a chaotic mind, even though that consciousness was lab-created.


The contents of the closed box had been branded on his retinas. Damn their eyes, who’d do such a heinous thing? Christian took control of his body, stilling his trembling hands. By effort of will, he didn’t acknowledge the package by even a glance. The pilot had been decapitated in the crash, but how the hell did his head end up in Houston, Texas, more particularly in their home?

“Who was at the door?” March must have seen something in his face. Frowning, she hurried to his side. “What’s that funny smell?”

The embalmed head of a man who looked like me. Another cold quiver leapt along his sensors. He’d never forget the look in the dead pilot’s eyes. Fear now had a physical illustration. If he’d possessed a stomach, he’d have been violently ill. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

He swallowed hard and shrugged. “What’s in that box…” he pointed, “is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. It can’t have come from Mayfair. They’d never resort to terror tactics.”

“Christian, what is it?” She reached for the vessel containing a man’s—once a living, breathing human being’s—preserved head. “No.”

He seized her hand. “March, you mustn’t. I refuse to let you see what’s in that box. It’s disgusting…and horrible. The pilot who died in the Jersey crash…it’s his head. The article mentioned he was decapitated.”

“His head!” March recoiled. “Dear lord, who’d send a dead man’s head to us?”

“Not to us. To me.”