"If Mickey Spillane had collaborated with both Frederik Pohl and Philip K. Dick, he might have produced Bruce Golden’s Better Than Chocolate."
Asimov's Science Fiction"
"Bruce Golden's gonzo police procedural of the future mixes aliens, sex, and murder into a hard-punching satirical adventure that inserts its stilettos of critical wit so stealthily that
you'll die laughing."
Paul Di Filippo
“Its vibrant characters are both larger-than-life and true to it . . . a delicate balance of parody and
punchy realism.”
SFRevu
"The understated satirical tone of the book makes it anything but a cliché . . . a lively, fun read—it keeps you turning pages and wanting more."
PaperCuts Library Journal
"Though character-driven, this book has atmosphere and action to burn, while delivering sometimes-profound social commentary on issues like freedom, sexual repression, privacy, morality, and religion, all with biting satire and comic undertones . . . Golden’s talent for creating original characters is matched by his uncanny gift for clever but realistic dialogue, which crackles and pops off each page. Jam-packed with double entendres, tweaked expressions, and futuristic jargon, this book is damned fun . . . a fast-moving, entertaining read you won’t be able to put down . . . Better Than Chocolate is pure sci-fi satisfaction, living up to its title in delicious spades."
Razar Magazine
Other Books by Bruce Golden
and what it means to be human.
Zach was just looking for a novel one-night stand.
Mary was searching for her place in the world.
They found each other.
In a future world, where the creation of artificial humans has led to a caste of "non-people," the fight for civil rights takes on new meaning. A loner who's an expert on lust but a novice when it comes to love, falls for a naive but beautiful androne. He teaches her what it means to be human, but can't give her what she really wants--her freedom.
"Steeped in the ambience of classic 1950's Galaxy magazine ... social satire, irreverent anti-establishmentarianism, and pseudo-hardboiled narration ... Golden writes with zest and good pacing ... a certain flippancy of characterization and delivery ..."
Asimov's Science Fiction
“ A sexy, sometimes satirical take on a unique and forbidden relationship ... a wry look at the human condition in the tradition of Heinlein and Asimov ... science fiction with heart, and a book destined to leave a lasting impression.”
Speculative Fiction Reader
Buy A SIGNED Copy of
Better Than Chocolate
or
Mortals All
Directly from the Author.
North of Infinity II
An Anthology of Short Fiction Featuring the Works of Robert J. Sawyer, Bruce Golden, & others
Love & Sacrifice
A Companion Anthology to the Award-Winning
Film London Voodoo
Book of Shadows
An Anthology of Short Horror Stories
FSF
A Collection of Tales to Amaze and Tantalize
Top International Horror 2003
Winners of the 2003 International Horror Story Contest
An Interview with Bruce
Contact Bruce
I Found Love on Channel 3 TANGENT “May surprise you in more ways than one . . . a deceptively simple and poignant tale about someone whose alienation from normal society is rewarded by a never-to-be-forgotten glimpse of the Other Side.” SPECULATIVE FICTION READER Faith SHADOWED REALMS “Socked me with its twist.” IMHO “Radically different in its telling, with minimal conversation and thickly descriptive writing . . . an original piece of flash fiction . . . a heavy underlying statement.” AS IF The Five Phases of Darlene “A well-written, edgy tale, and the best story of this issue . . . a dark retrospective on the dangers of chemically altering the mind.” TANGENT Mortals All ASIMOV’S SCIENCE FICTION “Reminiscent of Heinlein's works . . . science fiction with heart, and a story that will make you think as it entertains. I couldn't put it down, and when it ended, I wanted still more.” SPECULATIVE FICTION READER Common Time TANGENT The Withering VANDERWORLD “Superb . . . reminded me of the stories of Robert Bloch.” NIGHTSHADE BOOKS |
Now Available from
Zumaya Publishing
Noah Dane is a mid-21st Century San Francisco police inspector who, while hunting his partner's killer and investigating a pair of seemingly unrelated murders, stumbles onto a conspiracy that threatens all humanity. Chastity Blume is a celebrated talk show host known as "America's Favorite Virgin" who discovers the sinister plot while searching for the mother she never knew. Along with Noah's new crime-fighting partner, a Marilyn Monroe celebudroid, they lead a cast of quirky characters towards a climax of comically sexy proportions, where all the clues point to an insanely popular new virtual reality experience that's
Better Than Chocolate.
Purchase your copy from Amazon.com
Excerpts from BETTER THAN CHOCOLATE
The captain got out of her chair, walked part way around her desk, and looked through the transparent partition. Noah saw something was bothering her–something she didn't want to tell him. He took the opportunity to retrieve his badge and gun. He didn't feel balanced without that weight in his shoulder holster.
“I wanted you to take a breather before you had to deal with this, but . . . I'm assigning you a new partner. Shut up and listen,” she said, stopping him short him again. “You know the rule book as well as I. You've got to be partnered-up. And I'll tell you right now, you're not going to like this. I don't like it either. But it's not my call. This play comes straight from the booth up top. Yesterday's debacle left you a marked man. So you can either stick to the game plan or find yourself back on bike patrol.”
“Hell,” wondered Noah aloud, “who is this new partner, some sort of mental defective? I know. It's a troll, isn't it? I'm not working with some alien midget.”
“That's not it, though I almost wish it was.” Captain Raevski walked back to her chair and sat. “You remember last year's celebudroid craze?”
“Sure. All those robots made to look and act like famous dead people. They were everywhere, hired out for parties, mall openings . . . .”
“Yes, well the fad faded away quicker than a lame-armed quarterback. Celebuwares went bankrupt, couldn't pay its taxes, and the city came out of the scrum holding its assets.”
“What in the name of Jack Daniels does that have to do with me?”
“It was in a local grid poll, didn't you see it?”
“I don't vote.”
“You should. The public decided it wanted to recoup its losses, and have the celebudroids retrained, or reprogrammed I guess you'd call it, for a variety of municipal tasks. Some jerkoff bench jockey in City Hall decided to see if one of these droids could do police work.”
“Don’t tell me.” Without taking his eyes off the captain, hoping for a telltale sign it was an elaborate gag, Noah dropped back into the chair.
“Yes. This particular droid has been reprogrammed with complete law enforcement and police academy training. It's passed all the written and physical tests.”
“No.”
“Now I've been ordered to take it into the squad and make it part of the team. Specifically, I've been ordered to make it your partner.”
“No.”
“I know. At first I thought it was somebody's idea of a joke too. Now the joke's on you, Dane.” As Noah tried to harness the rather schizoid engrams running amuck in his brain, Captain Raevski did something with her desk screen. A few seconds later, there was a knock on the door. “Enter,” she said officiously.
Noah turned and saw the front view of the blonde he'd eyed before. She was every bit as impressive from this angle. Rich honey-colored hair, bedroom eyes, lacquered nails, a tiny mole on her left cheek, luscious lips–though a touch heavy with the lipstick, he thought–and an hourglass figure that cried out for a full-body inspection. She had on this one-piece all white outfit that was belted in the middle and tight in the ass. It covered her from neck to calf and left most everything to the imagination. That was okay. He had plenty of imagination.
Then a string of cerebellic goup snapped and he realized he'd seen this tasty pow-whammy before. It occurred to him he recognized her from several pieces of pop art he’d chanced on in some store. The realization slammed him to the mat.
“Inspector Dane,” said Captain Raevski formally, “let me introduce you to your new partner, Detective Special Class, Marilyn Monroe.”
. . . She'd been inside the institute longer than she thought. It had grown dark–the only illumination the soft coral glow of the streetlights and a single public grid screen pulsing with some marketing inanity across the way. She retrieved her pad from her purse to call for her car, then realized she wasn't alone on the street. A trio of bikeroos, alternately resplendent and ragged in their striking blue colors, leaned on their bikes just yards away. She hesitated with her pad, and as she did, four more gang members coasted to a stop near her. They were all around now, leering at her with countenances both curious and threatening. Some of the faces were so young, she thought, too young to be on the street. Belatedly she thought of activating her pad's emergency link. A bikeroo approached her from behind and snatched the pad from her grasp.
“You won't need this,” he said, smiling almost politely.
“See what else she's got in there,” called another one, gesturing at her purse with a blade that glimmered in the dim light.
The first bikeroo held his hand out expectantly for her purse. Part of her wanted to slap it away, but the part that was in control right now was terrified–terrified and angry. She was angry at herself for being so preoccupied, so stupid as to put herself in this position. After a few seconds hesitation, she handed over her purse. That's when another trio of bikeroos pedaled in, the lead biker skidding to a stop so close she was about to jump out of the way.
This guy was older than rest, bare chested except for a fancy vest that looked small on his barrel frame. Chastity couldn't make out the designs, but she could tell his heavily muscled arms were covered with tattoos. She gathered from the way the other bikeroos wavered that this was their leader. He got off his bike, let it drop, and looked her over with deep-set eyes under beetle brows. His stare was disconcerting.
Chastity nervously pulled on her pale-lavender skirt and took a step back. The gangster tilted the bright-blue derby he wore back from his forehead and smiled like a kid at Christmas. A glint of silver ignited his grin.
“Chastity?” he asked in a gravel-toned voice. “Chastity Blume? Damned if it isn't really you.”
Chastity was used to being recognized, but this time she was caught unawares. It took her more than a moment to grasp how this bikeroo knew her name.
“I'm mega-fan numero uno. Haven't missed a single program–no, not a single one.”
Still flabbergasted, Chastity didn't know if she should feel relief or not.
“You dim bulbs know who this is don't you?” Only a few appeared to have caught up with their chief. “This is Chastity Blume, America's Favorite Virgin, a dyed in the bull celebrity. You know, from that show Gridspeak.”
Who is Bruce Golden?
Read An Interview With Bruce