Present

By Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Mason Evers’ thirtieth birthday depresses him, so his wife Roxy decides to give him a present he will never forget. Only the present malfunctions. Should Mason and Roxy fix the present? Or should they simply enjoy it?

“A joy of clarity and lyricism.  She is a new breed of writer: a Renaissance woman.”

—Charles de Lint, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction

• Language: English
• Publisher: WMG Publishing
• Release date: Dec 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386937500

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

New York Times bestselling author Kristine Kathryn Rusch writes in almost every genre. Generally, she uses her real name (Rusch) for most of her writing. She publishes bestselling science fiction and fantasy, award-winning mysteries, acclaimed mainstream fiction, controversial nonfiction, and the occasional romance. Her novels have made bestseller lists around the world and her short fiction has appeared in eighteen best of the year collections. She has won more than twenty-five awards for her fiction, including the Hugo, Le Prix Imaginales, the Asimov's Readers Choice award, and the Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine Readers Choice Award.   

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Present

Present

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

WMG Publishing

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Present

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Also by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Present

Mason Evers sat on the edge of the bed, expecting another failure. He hadn’t even taken off his tie.

Roxy had made her intentions clear. She had rolled up the television screen, turned down the bedroom lights, and changed the wall colors to a light but sexy red. She had put satin sheets on the bed, and turned down the coverlet. On the bedside table, she’d placed a magnum of champagne and the crystal goblets they’d gotten for their last wedding anniversary. Right now, she was in the bathroom, preparing her entrance.

He wished he hadn’t called out her name as he walked into the bedroom, heard her husky response as she asked him to wait. He’d followed the trail of clothing she’d left like breadcrumbs from the front door, his stomach churning as he picked up each piece—the silk blouse, the bra, the stockings, the panties.

Part of him worried for her—this littering of clothes had never happened before—and part of him worried for him. Not that he was afraid he’d find her with someone else. Roxy was nothing if not loyal. But he really didn’t want to go in that bedroom, not with her expectations up, especially if they’d been up all day.

He sighed and flopped backwards on the bed. It was his thirtieth birthday. Thirty years old, and a complete and total failure.

During his lunch appointment, his shrink had tried to convince him otherwise. His job, linking hospital