Less Than Perfect

Less Than Perfect

Mikayla’s read every book in her collection of post-apocalyptic novels at least twice. She thinks she’s prepared for aliens taking over Earth. She’s not.

Nor is she prepared for the attention of a good-looking refugee named Reg.

All Mikayla and Reg want is a safe place to see out the end of the world, hidden away from the aliens that call themselves The People, but cities of the depopulated United States not infested with The People are rife with gangs, the detritus of civilization and disease.

On a mission to restock their supplies, Mikayla and Reg are captured by The People and prepared for the procedure that will make them perfect, but no longer quite human. In order to escape, they need to rely on each other…if Mikayla can trust a man who seems too good to be true.

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Calm preparation did not carry the same strength as blind panic. The effort required to slide the panel back surprised me. How had I managed to shift it before? Remembering my earlier lament, I called into the hallway as soon as I could.

“Hello! Anybody there?”

For all I knew, I might be summoning my captors, but despite my diminutive stature, stealth had never been something I excelled at. I liked to talk too much.

Small grunts puffed into the hallway as I continued to struggle with the door. As soon as my shoulder fit through, my small, insignificant chest followed, a half smile quirking my lips as I noted the inches a bustier woman might have required.

I questioned the dark again. “Hello?”

A scuff sounded behind me, a soft footfall, furtive, quiet. I strained to hear more, I dared not speak. Something slid along the wall; I bit my lips together over a bubbling scream. Someone breathed out, sucked in another gulp of air. A familiar scent wafted out of the darkness.



Was that…“Reg.” His name came from beneath my ribs, tore free on a quiet shriek of breath. The sound should have embarrassed me beyond reason.

“Mickey.” Reg sounded as weird as I did—his voice raspy and twisted, strangled almost. Hands found mine, patted, moved up my arm, shoulder, cheek. Another hand found the other side of my face. I felt him lean over me.

Lips brushed my nose and I whispered, “Missed me.”

Not help me, save me, holy crap we’re going to die, but missed me? I had tipped over some sort of edge.

Lips caught mine.

“Got you,” he whispered back.

Warmth receded as his hands found my shoulders again, then one slid down my arm. Long, strong fingers circled my slender wrist and tugged.


I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around Reg. He smelled clean like I did, but still like him. It was the most wonderful smell.

Gently, he pried my arms away from his waist.

“Mickey, we have to go.”


“Kelly Jensen deftly weaves an exciting tale of love and survival in post-apocalyptic world. An entertaining read!” 
Allison Pang, author of A Brush of Darkness

“Jensen’s prose is terrific. She pulled me into Mickey’s world in just a handful of pages.”
Daniel Price, author of The Flight of the Silvers

“Kelly’s love of apocalyptic and science fiction shows in this book. She knows how to raise questions and answer only the essential ones.”  
Jennifer Burke, author of Marked

Comments from Goodreads reviews:

“I really was hooked and did not want to stop reading it until I was finished.”

“If you enjoy romance books with the paranormal feel, and are looking for a quick read, then Less Than Perfect would be perfect for you.”

“I love dystopian books and this is a good one.”

“I really liked Mikayla’s character and felt her to be a strong heroine in the end. She really came through.”

Art I commissioned from talented artist Kay Steele:


Published by Kelly Jensen

Writer of love stories. Bibliophile. Gamer. Hiker. Cat herder. Waiting for the aliens. 👽 🏳️‍🌈

4 thoughts on “Less Than Perfect

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