The Arrival (The Eslite Chronicles #1) by C.M. Doporto | Blitz Post


The Arrival (The Eslite Chronicles #1) by C.M. Doporto
Release Date: 11/15/13

Can Miranda save the human race?
An elegant, sophisticated alien species on the verge of extinction has invaded Earth and confined an entire generation of young women, after negotiating a treaty with the world’s governments. Eager to help the aliens reproduce, but frightened by her imprisonment at Nidus, the Eslite medical compound, sixteen-year-old Miranda Mays endures callous scientific experiments in the Eslite’s quest for survival.
When Miranda discovers the ultimate consequences of her egg donations, she organizes a rebellion, enlisting fellow donors in her cause. But soon she realizes the mysterious headmaster, Dimas, knows of her plot. And there’s something about him that bothers Miranda, though she can’t describe it. The fate of humanity hangs in the balance, so she can’t back down. But will Dimas expose her defiance?
Teen Sci-Fi/Dystopian ages 12 and up.

¿Puede Miranda salvar a la raza humana?
Una especie exótica, elegante y sofisticada que está al borde de la extinción ha invadido la Tierra y confinado a toda una generación de mujeres jóvenes, después de negociar un tratado con los gobiernos del mundo. Deseosa de ayudar a los extraterrestres a que se reproduzcan, pero asustada por su encarcelamiento en Nidus, el complejo médico Eslite, Miranda Mays de dieciséis años de edad sobreviva a crueles experimentos científicos en la búsqueda de Eslite para la supervivencia.
Cuando Miranda descubre las últimas consecuencias de sus donaciones de óvulos, ella organiza una rebelión, alistando a compañeras donantes en su causa. Pero pronto se da cuenta de que el director misterioso, Dimas, sabe sobre su complot. Y hay algo en él que molesta a Miranda, a pesar de que no puede describirlo. El destino de la humanidad pende de un hilo, por lo que no puede dar marcha atrás. ¿Pero podrá Dimas exponer su desafío?
Sci-Fi/Distopía juvenial para 12 años en adelante.

CM Doporto lives in the great state of Texas with her husband and son enjoying life with their extensive family along with their Chihuahua, Mexican Redhead Parrot, and several fish.
She earned her Bachelor’s Degree in Journalism from The University of Texas at Arlington. She briefly worked in the area of Public Relations and Advertising and then pursued a career in the field of Human Resources. CM considers herself a life-long learner and returned to school and earned her Master of Art’s Degree in Organizational Development from Dallas Baptist University.
She writes Young Adult and New Adult Sci-Fi/Urban Fantasy stories about ordinary women who do extraordinary things, become a heroine, and find love along the way.

CM Doporto vive en el gran estado de Texas con su esposo e hijo disfrutando de la vida con su extensa familia, junto con su Chihuahua, su loro mexicano cabeza roja, y varios peces.
Se licenció en Periodismo en la Universidad de Texas en Arlington. Trabajó brevemente en el área de Relaciones Públicas y Publicidad y luego continuó una carrera en el campo de los Recursos Humanos. CM se considera una estudiante de por vida y regresó a la escuela y obtuvo su Maestría en Arte de Desarrollo Organizativo de la Universidad Bautista de Dallas.
Ella escribe Young Adult y New Adult Sci-Fi/Fantasía urbana sobre historias de mujeres comunes que hacen cosas extraordinarias, se convierten en heroínas, y encuentran el amor en el camino.

Excerpt of The Arrival

“Then allow me to do the honors,” Dimas said, easing my backpack from my grip.
What? Was he going to search me? My pulse quickened, and I managed to speak regardless of the tightness in my throat. “Sure.” I closed my mouth after I realized that I had just agreed to allow him to touch me. What the hell was wrong with me? He’d find the tracker. There was no way I could hide it.
“Yes, sir,” Karpos said, returning to the command station.
My legs tensed as I extended my arms, assuming the search position.
“Relax,” Dimas spoke softly into my ear. “I am not going to hurt you.”
Every muscle weakened, turning me into bowl of Jell-O. It would take all of my inner strength to keep me upright for his interrogation. “You promise?”
He didn’t speak but chuckled deep in his throat. His laughter made me cringe, but it was his touch that had me flinching when he rested his palms on my back. In a slow, gentle movement, he glided his hands along my curves, kneading my muscles with a surprisingly tender touch. I hated that it felt so good, because I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it.
He moved his hands in front of me, drawing me closer to his body. For a moment, I wanted to flee, but something kept me frozen in place. In a fast movement, he swept his fingers above my breasts, over my shoulders, and then down my arms. He rested his palms on my stomach, and the sheer warmth of his skin seeped through my thin scrubs, searing my frigid flesh to a sizzling one hundred and ten degrees.
His fingers spread across my abdomen and along my sides, stopping at my waist. My heart beat wildly, and I had trouble determining if it was from the fear of being caught with the tracker or from the body search. He lingered inches from my pocket, where I secretly hid the device.
“Turn around,” he ordered, as he pivoted my body between his stout arms.
“Yes, sir.” I rotated like a ballerina in a jewelry box, twirling at her master’s command. Our eyes met once again, igniting a spark that I knew spelled trouble. Anticipation mixed with fear, reducing my mind to a poisonous cocktail. And then I recognized it. That same mind-numbing sensation I experienced when I visited in his quarters. I wanted to stop it, but it was too late. I had already tasted our strange but exciting connection, and now I wanted more.
Because he made me feel alive.
The proximity of his body to mine was overwhelming, and my heart raced as I longed for him to finish. With his gaze fixed on mine, his hands glided over my scrubs, tracing the outline of my curves. I nearly collapsed when his fingers worked their way up my inner calves to my thighs, and I recoiled when he paused briefly on the tracker in my pocket. I braced myself, preparing for the worst, but relaxed when a smile played at the edge of his lips. Instead of demanding that I remove the device, he simply did nothing.
“You can lower your arms,” Dimas said, handing me my backpack.
“Oh, okay.” I stammered, still shocked that he ignored the tracker. He had me totally confused. Did he want me to have it? Maybe he didn’t feel it. No, he did. I know he did. Or did he want me out of there so bad that he was willing to overlook what I had taken? Thoughts ran rampant, making me a hot mess, once again.

*Traducciones hechas por PatricRo (por mí)

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