Dystopian Cover Reveal: MIXED IN by Catherine Haustein

When passions are regulated, which laws will you break?
 Paperback: March 7th
eBook: March 21st

When Catrina moves to Cochtonville to work as a chemist for Cochton Enterprises, she has no idea how dangerous her life is about to become. A chance meeting with Ulysses, owner of the Union Station bar, plunges her into a world of illegal condoms, vibrators, and art. As their loneliness draws them together, they become allies in what will turn into the fight of their lives in the sexually repressive and culturally backward dystopia. 

Catrina’s invention, No Regrets—a scanner to test for pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections, brings increased scrutiny from the town's Vice Patrol. Headed by an ambitious new agent, Vice Patrol hangs around Union Station, and it’s leader has taken up with Ulysses’s vindictive ex. Catrina’s relationship with Ulysses and her company’s new products put them both in peril as she begins to understand the dark side of her employer, society, and science without humanity. 

But science is all she’ll have to save the men of Cochtonville from a mortifying fate and Ulysses's life. 

For more about Catherine Haustein find her across the web:

http://sharonmjohnston.com/    https://www.pinterest.com/catherinehauste/https://twitter.com/s_m_johnston

Find a sneak peek of MIXED IN  now!

Creating a beer is much like breeding a dog. Dogs have that one tricky gene, number fifteen, that can cause height variation between five inches and seven feet, more than any other land vertebrate. (Imagine humans ranging from two to over thirty feet tall.) Hops are complicated, having intricate aromas, regional differences, and changing chemistry upon brewing.

Sipping the dark and sylvan house ale, I studied the wavy-haired bartender. A pretty man with smooth skin, a dark mustache, and little sideburns, he resembled Nikola Tesla, who despite his love for frequency and vibrations, was said to have died a virgin.

I’d taken refuge in Union Station bar after my bus broke down as I rode it home from work. Officials in black bomber jackets and belts covered with devices that hung like pinecones walked past the window. I hadn’t seen that black uniform before. Those belts loaded with technology told me something. I was in what Cochtonville considered a bad neighborhood.