When I was seven, three time traveling space bastards crashed into our pool and ruined my life.
Twenty one years, a lot of psychologists, and a lot of bullying later, I've gone no contact with everyone from back then. I'm now a twenty-eight-year-old commitment-phobe who runs a bookshop and writes Sci-Fi smut based on the aliens who crashed into my pool. Well, that's not right. I'm just a cashier at the bookshop and I have so few fans, the bookshop I work at won't even stock my books.
I didn't think anyone from my old life even knew where I was until the time traveling space bastards show back up with a little more information on why they ruined my life. They are a team from an alien planet and my little unloved Sci-fi series is their bible. I never finished the last book because I have writer's block, but I intended to.
I mean, I'm twenty-eight. I thought I had time. They said in a matter of days, I'm going to get murdered. It's never solved. They are here to save my life so I can finish this series because their society is on the brink of war. Except aside from a few guys I ghosted and stole their hoodies, I can't think who would want to kill me or why. And I really don't want to get murdered.
No pressure on beating the writer's block.
This is a standalone why choose alien romance where she ends up with more than one man.