So that is a bit of how this story came to be. I hope you enjoyed the peek behind the curtain, and when you ask your favorite author how a particular story came to be, don’t be surprised if they vomit a lot of random nonsense at you. I swear it’s coming from somewhere!

—Ruby, October 2023

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Acknowledgments are some of the trickiest pages to write, because there is always that feeling that you’re going to leave someone off, no matter how many people you mention. Here is my attempt at thanking everyone who had some part in things that I am aware of.

My husband, who patiently lets me gripe about the decomposition rate of dead bodies and keeps me on an even keel. Even if I wake up cranky, you’re doing whatever you can to improve my mood. You’re the best man I know, you always make me laugh, and I love that we have our own goofy language after twenty years together. Thank you for being my person.

My assistant, Emily Prebich, who holds down the fort when I disappear for days on end because of deadlines.

Kati Wilde, who knows more about what I’ve got going on than I do. I would be lost without you, both as helper and as friend. You really are an angel. A talented, sexy angel with fantastic hair.

My novel-writing friends, who let me bitch in email about the various stages of my book and how it’s frustrating me that day: Lana Ferguson, Michele Mills, Celia Kyle, Kati Wilde (again), Lea Robinson, Ginny Sterling, Lissanne Jones, and Finley Fenn.

The Berkley team—you made this happen! Cindy, thank you for being as excited about this book as I am. Picture me right now making a heart shape with my hands. Your title is so much better than mine. Angela Kim and Elizabeth Vinson, who answered all my emails promptly and probably did a whole heck of a lot more behind the scenes. The art team, who put together this absolutely gorgeous package that blows my mind: Kelly Wagner for the cover art, lilithsaur for the endpaper art, and Rita Frangie Batour for pulling it all together and blinging it up. Y’all nailed it. The colors! The edges! I’m just so in love.

Christine Masters for the incredible copyedit. You are the soul of patience. Fabi Van Arsdell (production manager) for the behind-the-scenes work, and Katy Riegel (interior design) for making the innards as beautiful as the, er, outers. Michelle Kasper (production editor) for the fantastic and thorough job you always do. I’m terrified of how sharp your mind is and also you need a raise. Thank you for the incredible job you did! Thank you also to marketer Jessica Mangicaro and publicists Stephanie Felty and Tina Joell, who worked behind the scenes to make this book happen.

My agency team, Holly Root, Alyssa Maltese, and Heather Shapiro. Y’all are on it. Your hair is spectacular, and your brows are perfection. Workwise, I would be a puddle of anxiety without all of you. Thank you for always being in my corner and making me feel like we’ve got it all under control, even when things might be on fire.

If I missed thanking you, please consider yourself thanked right here. Just write your name in and know that it was always meant to be there.

Thank you, _________. You’re a shining star (with great hair, too).

—Ruby

Keep reading for an excerpt from the first book in USA Today bestselling author Ruby Dixon’s alien romance series

ICE PLANET BARBARIANS

Available now from Berkley Romance!

GEORGIE

Up until yesterday, I, Georgie Carruthers, never believed in aliens. Oh, sure, there were all kinds of possibilities out there in the universe, but if someone would have told me that little green men were hanging around Earth in flying saucers, just waiting to abduct people? I would have told them they were crazy.

But that was yesterday.

Today? Today’s a very different sort of story.

I suppose it all started last night. It was pretty ordinary, overall. I came home after a long day of working the drive-thru teller window at the bank, nuked a Lean Cuisine, ate it while watching TV, and dozed off on the couch before stumbling to bed. Not exactly the life of the party, but hey. It was a Tuesday, and Tuesdays were all work, no play. I went to sleep, and from there, shit got weird.

My dreams were messed up. Not the usual losing teeth or naked in front of the class dreams. These were far more sinister. Dreams of loss and abandonment. Dreams of pain and cold white rooms. Dreams of walking in a tunnel and seeing an oncoming train. In that dream, I tried to lift my hand to shield me from the light.

Except when I went to raise my hand, I couldn’t.

That had woken me up from my slumber. I squinted into the tiny light someone was shining in my eyes. Someone was…shining something in my eyes? I blinked, trying to focus, and realized that I wasn’t dreaming at all. I wasn’t home, either. I was…somewhere new.

Then the light clicked off and a bird chirped. I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, and I found myself surrounded by…things. Things with long black eyes and big heads and skinny pale arms. Little green men.

I’d screamed. I’d screamed bloody murder, actually.

One of the aliens tilted its head at me, and the bird chirping sound happened again, even though his mouth didn’t move. Something hot and dry wrapped over my mouth, choking me, and a noxious scent filled my nostrils. Oh shit. Was I going to die? Frantically, I worked my jaw, trying to breathe even as the world got dark around me.

Then, I went back to sleep, dreaming of work. I always dreamed of work when I was stressed. For hours on end, angry banking clients yelled at me as I kept trying to tear open packs of twenties that wouldn’t seem to come open. I’d try to count out change only to get distracted. Work dreams are the worst, usually, but this one was a relief. No trains. No aliens. Just banking. I could deal with banking.

And that brings me to…here.

I’m awake. Awake and not entirely sure where I am. My eyes slide open, and I gaze around me. It smells like I’m in a sewer, I can feel a wall behind me, and my body hurts all freaking over. My head feels blurry and slow, like all of me hasn’t quite woken up yet. My limbs feel heavy. Drugged, I realize. Someone’s drugged me.