for advancement. Check our website, no experience is necessary, but we are asking for an essay about why you want to make games for a living. Women and minorities are encouraged to at least try - and no, there isn't a limited number of positions. It's time to expand the options of what stories we tell, people. To quote my lead interface developer, cis, white, and male is no longer the default. Now, let's get this party started!"
Kate stepped back and turned to Chance. "How's Dez doing being back?"
He chuckled. "She's good, Kate. Not ok. Dez is finally doing good. I mean, she'll always have a long way to go, but..." He ducked his head and smiled. "She's touching more. It's like knowing Soul Reaper is gone - not jailed, but dead - has given her the chance to finally heal, and she's doing it."
"And you?" Kate asked.
He shrugged. "Braden hits on me, I hit on Rhaven, and Psyc laughs at us. I spend my days making games with my partner. This all kinda feels like happily ever after, you know?"
"Truer words have never been spoken," Kate agreed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've been practicing. I'm making it to the finals this time."
Chance called after her, "Knock 'em dead, gamer girl."
Dear Reader,
For both Kitty and Auryn, the Gamer Girls series was a labor of love. We're gamers ourselves, and know firsthand how important it is to have virtual relationships. Gaming was the only setting we could think of that would bring together such a diverse cast of characters, giving us the chance to focus on so many problems that real people have to deal with in their lives.
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Shades of Trouble: Collide: Book 1 by Kitty Cox
PROLOGUE
VIOLET
Black wasn't exactly our color. Shoulder to shoulder, my only real friends stood silently, watching the casket sink into the ground. They'd traveled from all over the world for this. Paris, Toronto, Denver, New York, Los Angeles, and more. Unlike the rest of the mourners, our little group dared to bring color. Crimson, Teal, Magenta, Cyan, Chartreuse, and more - they were all represented proudly. It was what Gran would have wanted, and we owed her nothing less.
It also made the country bumpkins around us feel uncomfortable. Arranged like a rainbow, our attire raised awkward questions these people would rather not ask, and rightly so. Gran had never hidden that she was a lesbian. She also hadn't flaunted it. That I was having her buried beside her former girlfriend had the small Texas town in a tizzy. That her "family" all wore neon accents and held brilliantly dyed carnations would cause an even bigger fervor.
It was exactly what Gran would have wanted, and I knew how to make a statement. Through all the prayers, I just stared at the soft grey coffin. Through the pretty words and sniveling neighbors, I refused to weep. If I didn't need to be seen, I wouldn't be here. The last thing I intended was to show any grief around these people. I just wanted to remember my grandmother as she'd been in life, not cold and unmoving. I wanted to remember the charming old woman who'd refused to ever grow up, the woman who'd proudly shown dozens of kids a better life. The mentor who'd been willing to share everything with her granddaughter when no one else had. The woman who'd brought color into a dark world.
Then it was time. One by one, the others made their way closer to drop a flower or a word into the ground above the coffin. I couldn't move. This was it. This made it real. This was supposed to be closure, but it felt like a knife right through the middle of my heart as white roses and stiff lilies began to pile up. When there was no one else, a stout man wearing turquoise accents stepped forward and released his cyan flower, making sure the color wasn't hidden under the pile of white. It was fitting.
My eyes watched as others did the same and the rainbow piled up.