Dispatches from Fourteen Light-Years Away
No. 1 · The Arrival · May 18, 2026
Hey,
You signed up for this list, which means one of two things happened: either someone told you about a book where a woman signs a research contract and accidentally gets married to a seven-foot alien, or you found me on your own and thought, sure, that sounds like a reasonable use of my inbox.
Either way, you’re here. I’m glad.
I’m Millie. I write funny, spicy alien romance about what happens when two species try to share a life and keep getting everything wrong. My heroes are large, confused, and completely undone by one human woman who didn’t read the fine print. My heroines are fierce, carrying something heavy, and handling it better than anyone gives them credit for.
I started writing these books because I wanted to read stories where the comedy came from a real place. Two people who genuinely want to understand each other and keep missing. A compliment that means one thing on one planet and something wildly different on another. A man who builds furniture for a woman he can’t talk to yet, and gets the measurements wrong, and keeps building anyway.
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Funny until it isn’t, and then sad for exactly one paragraph before someone misreads a cultural cue and you’re laughing again.
The first book in the Mistakenly Matched series is available for pre-order now.
A blacklisted biologist. A seven-foot-four alien who hasn’t been touched in forty years. And the research contract I signed that turned out to be a marriage license.
I came to Rethaan because no lab on Earth would hire me after I blew the whistle on falsified data. The fellowship came with alien soil, heavier gravity, and a research partner named Tavaan, an agricultural overseer whose body runs some degrees hotter than mine and glows amber when I walk into the room.
Gray nutrient packs showed up at my workspace every morning. He built me a shelf that listed four degrees to the left because he’d measured my sample cases while I wasn’t looking. When he told me he wanted me, he said it with the clinical precision of a soil report and meant every word. He’d known we were married since the day I signed. I found out at a communal meal when someone congratulated us.
The last institution that made decisions about my life without asking destroyed my career. The last man who said he wanted me left when I became inconvenient. I came fourteen light-years to start over, and another system decided what my life would look like without consulting me.
The man who built me wrong furniture and courted me with wet chalk can’t hide what I do to him. Forty years of dim light flooding back, visible to every person on the station. I just don’t know if I can trust something I didn’t choose.
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I’ll be in your inbox three times a week for the next couple of weeks (Monday, Wednesday, Friday) because I’ve got a book launch and I want to give this first one the best chance I can. After that I’ll settle into Tuesdays, which is a much more civilized pace for both of us.
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Hit reply and tell me: what’s the last book that made you laugh out loud in public? I’m always looking for my next excuse to embarrass myself on a bus.
Signing off, Millie
P.S. If you know someone who likes their aliens confused and their romances funny, forward this along. I’ll wait.