Table of Contents

Book Cover
Trigger Warnings:
adult humor and language

Book Info


Black Swan Planet

Cover Artist:
Black Swan Productions
15 March 2022
Book Type
Heat Level


Raka Varoule, Maven Blackheart, and Marco return for one final adventure in Black Swan Empire!

When Maven nearly starts WWIII as a result of an international nuclear incident, she and Raka are forced to flee from Earth and return to the Galactic Empire, but they aren’t exactly welcomed with open arms. They are quickly drawn into a plot that just happens to involve the assassination of Emperor Caligula himself.

With the help of some old friends and a few frenemies, they face their biggest challenge yet when the entire Empire is on the line.

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Guest Post By James Peters


I’ve just recently made writing my full-time gig. This has been the culmination of dreaming, scheming, and planning for years, but now, I can truly say I’m a full-time author. I’ve never been happier with my job, but I have to admit I’m a little scared. For years I’ve thought, “If only I could write full-time, I could really make it as an author.” Now I face the prospect of testing that thesis. Do I have the “chops” to write stories people will want to read? The only way to find out is to keep pressing forward.

The most common question I get as an author is “Are you traditionally or independently published?” I always assume there’s some added clout if one can answer “traditionally” and spout off a well-known publishing company, but those lines are becoming very blurry these days. I’ve heard too many stories of an author signing a contract with a publishing house and getting an advance and a promise of future sales, only to find out later that their book was sent to the discount bin after not becoming an immediate best seller. No more money is coming in, and the publisher is not interested in your next book, unless you change your style to match their template for this genre.

As an independent author, I write my stories the way I believe they need to be told. I work with my editor, the wonderful and immensely patient Gari Strawn, who fixes my bone-headed mistakes but allows me to tell my story my way — and I really appreciate that. Do I want to be a best-selling author? Of course I do. Do I want to write dozens of cookie-cutter stories that fit an easily digestible and predictable pattern? Not at all. I really have no interest in writing that way. I write to entertain. I spend countless hours working on these books and I love what I do. If I had to write them to match some corporate standard I think it would turn into “work” really quickly.

I have to write stories that entertain me, and that’s why you’ll find some different ways of telling a story in my work, including non-traditional methods. My character is having a text exchange? Let the reader see it. Can I use a news report to add to the story? Why not, if it adds to the story.

As an author all I can do is ask you give me a try. You might just find yourself entertained.


Swan Spawn

To my great surprise, I found myself on a warm beach watching the waves pound repeatedly against a rocky shoreline, while winds whirled around me making a repetitive and comforting pattern of sounds. I was completely alone, yet I felt a sense of contentment just to be. Just to be here, just to be alone, just to be alive.

A lemon-yellow sun smiled down upon me, and a few cotton-candy clouds dotted a perfect blue sky. A wave washed up just far enough to tickle my toes; the water was warm and welcoming. I took a few steps into the ocean to see small fish schooling around my legs. When they looked up at me, they seemed happy.

A dolphin crested over a distant wave. It turned toward me, approaching quickly but I felt no sense of fear. The dolphin raised up out of the water in front of me and spoke, but not in Dolphinese, instead, he spoke in perfect English. “What do you do if you don’t have enough cash to buy a coffee mug?”

I didn’t waste my time considering the concept that an aquatic mammal was talking to me. Instead, I simply responded, “I don’t know Mr. Dolphin. What do you do if you don’t have enough cash to buy a coffee mug?” “You write a cup-check!” The dolphin said as it slammed its nose into my crotch with enough force to

shatter the side-window of an ’83 Escort.
I screamed and flailed to find myself snapped into reality, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. I was laying on my

back in a bed with dozens of electronic sensors connected to me, an IV line in my arm, a hospital-style light shining in my face, and a fat little fuck of a kid laughing at me. He was maybe twelve years old and he still had his hands on my junk. He had black hair, raging acne, a triple chin, thick glasses, and he repeatedly sniffed as if he were snorting black pepper.

“Now the stinky man is awake!” the kid said and made a snorting sound like he was hawking up a loogie. “Fifty buck says I can hit you in the eye with this.”

“Fifty bucks says if you don’t back away from me immediately, I’ll beat you into next year, you little shit.” I began ripping off the electronic sensor pads and tried to get up, only to find I didn’t have the strength.

“You think you’re a tough guy? My bodyguard could rip you in two long-ways and not even break a sweat.” He sniffed, then wiped his nose down his black shirt sleeve. An eight-inch-long trail of mucus glistened in the light on his shirt sleeve.

I grabbed Tubby McZitface by both arms where his biceps should have been and tried to shake him. “You ever touch me again you’ll regret it for what little is left of your sad, pathetic life.”

The kid’s eyes opened wide and his lip quivered in fear. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, making a roundabout path between fat and pimple. His mouth opened for several seconds before any sound came out, but finally he screamed an ear-piercing wail of “Smiles!”

The door flung open, rattling against its stop. A huge gorilla wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit stepped inside. He had a scar across his cheek, and as he approached I smelled the pleasant fragrance of his shampoo.

“Rip the bad man in two!” Tubby said to the gorilla.
“I’m sorry, Master Filbert. I’m unable to harm Mr. Raka, as I’m sworn to protect him.”
“Can you at least give him a super-atomic wedgie?” Filbert wiped big wet tears from his cheeks.
“No,” the gorilla replied.

I felt a sense of relief. “General Smiles. It’s good to see you again. Be a sport and toss this evil little turd into the street, ideally into traffic. Thanks buddy” “I can’t do that either.”

“Why not?”

“I’m sworn to protect him as well.”

“Why?” I asked, as a deep sense of nausea and dread flushed through my body as if I were in a porta-potty in the act of being tipped over, balancing on its edge for just an instant before engaging maximum shitstorm.

“Because sir, he’s your son.”

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James Peters fell in love with Science Fiction at a young age, becoming hooked on the works of Asimov, Anderson, and Pohl (among many others), as well as the mixed bag of anything labeled Science Fiction on television or at the movies while growing up. While in grade school, he was given an assignment to write a journal about anything he wanted. He quickly filled the pages with a Buck Roger’s type adventure of robots, spaceships, and pew-pewing lasers, discovering his inner passion to write.

He writes with a gritty blend of character-driven action, wry humor, and social commentary that transports the reader through wild worlds of speculative fiction and fantasy. He’s known to cross the borders of different genres into new territory, along with an occasional ‘wink and nod’ to pop culture and other authors, then shock the reader with an unexpected turn of events.
Sit back, open your mind and enjoy the ride. Your adventure awaits.

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