Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Genre: Erotic Romance
Release Date: April 15, 2019
She lost him seven years ago. Now he’s back in her life… and back in her bed.
April Donovan thought she’d gotten over Grant Carmichael.
He broke her heart, took her feelings for granted, and chose a baseball career over her. She moved on with her life and eventually healed. Seven years later, a chance meeting throws that theory asunder, and several passionate moments rekindle the fire.
And in about five minutes, he would be strolling back into her life. Not on a permanent basis, but she would see him again, and a flood of emotions would swallow her in their depths. She’d want him, both with her mind and her heart. She would fight, and she would lose the battle.
As a settlement agent, her job was to close real estate transactions. Grant was a real estate broker who, along with his brothers, purchased houses, renovated them, and then flipped them for a profit. He had been quite successful and often used her. “April Donovan, it is you. I had wondered if AD stood for you.”
She motioned toward a visitor’s chair opposite her. “Mr. Carmichael. Please sit down.” No, don’t sit. He stood astute and gorgeous in a charcoal, three-piece suit, with a soft gray dress shirt and burgundy tie. The slim fit complemented his physique. The Grant she remembered had worn jeans and T-shirts. This version was one hundred percent eye candy.
His head tilted to the side, and his lips formed a thin line. “We have a past. No need for formalities.”
April prayed her pulse wasn’t visibly pounding in her neck. Her eyes bored into his. Damn, he’s still gorgeous. His black hair was trimmed close to his head on the sides and longer and more disheveled on top, suiting his angular face. His jaw was still strong and could probably still take a punch. She had seen it happen before. Her gaze fell to his lips—lips that could make her tremble as they moved over her skin. Heat flooded her core, and she clenched her thighs together.
She cleared her throat. “That is correct, Mr. Carmichael. We did have a past, but we have nothing now.”
His brows rose, and a slow, sexy grin turned his lips upward. “Okay. We can play it your way.” He lowered his six-foot, two-inch frame into the vacant seat. “For now.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LM Spangler lives in South Central Pennsylvania with her husband, daughter, three dogs, a cat, a rabbit, and some fish. Her son serves his country in the US Navy.
She is a fan of college football and any kind of baseball and likes to watch the Discovery, Velocity, HGTV, DIY, Science, and any channel showing a college football game. She also watches old game shows like $25,000 Pyramid and Match Game.
*WARNING: This title contains explicit sexual scenes, BDSM, and anal sex.
Dolyn Kemmerly has found his destined mates. Unfortunately, they are more human than dragonblood. While his inner beast longs for them, his male stubbornness insists there are mates more worthy of his royal bloodline.
Due to Ashley O’Connor’s traumatic past, only the painful slap of a Dom’s toys can help her find release. A celibate sub, she’s never ached for a man’s tender touch—until a mysterious stranger follows her into her Master’s club.
When Ashley lifts one of her hard limits, Giovanni DiLoreto, her sex-therapist recommended Dom, is finally allowed to touch the flesh he’s been lusting to caress. Doing so, however, earns him a bloody nose by a hot-as-fuck stranger. Master Vanni has never touched a dick in pleasure, but the sudden desire to dominate the newcomer—while Ashley watches—consumes him.
Dolyn’s ancestors might accept Vanni for the heart of the dragon inside him, but it will take Dolyn’s complete submission to his alpha to help Ashley heal and unlock the destiny awaiting them all. PURCHASE LINKS:
Cloaking myself and following Ashley into the nondescript door at the end of the hallway came easy. Slipping through what appeared to a main entrance rather than a locker room of sorts she had entered proved a bit more difficult as a receptionist’s desk and bouncer flanked the double doors.
I glanced around the reception area, fully present, yet visually, nothing more than a bend of light to the two in the room with me. Gray walls. Glass desk. Abstract art on the walls and two other doors besides the one Ashley had disappeared through—boring and not giving me a hint of what lay beyond.
I eyed one of the chairs along the wall to my left and considered waiting until Ashley returned.
The double doors opened, however, releasing a flood of sensual delights mere humans wouldn’t catch. Heat, aroused murmuring, and sex. My dragon hummed his delight, but I frowned and raced forward, slipping through the opened door as the patron of whatever the place was bade the receptionist a good evening.
A holding room with another set of double doors that couldn’t muffle or contain the patrons’ arousal. Still nothing more than a flicker in a person’s peripheral vision, I pushed one of the doors open enough to slip through.
I stepped over a threshold leading to a sinner’s delight. Musk, sweetness, and the scent of anxious perspiration swept over me. Humans … dozens of them in all sorts of dress and lack thereof mingled in the huge lounge area. Dim lights. Low music. Leather seating and a bar lay on my left, a dais beyond held a St. Andrew’s Cross with a woman moaning beneath a Dom’s ministrations.
Chains clanked from a man strung to the ceiling directly on my right. Groans rose from two men getting their cocks sucked by kneeling submissives as they lounged by the bar on my left.
My gaze returned to the cross and the woman strapped to it.
How many times had I allowed Elijah to do the same to me? How many times had he forced me to climax before shoving his cock so far up my ass I lost my breath?
My dick swelled in my jeans, but it wasn’t the actions of the Dom that turned me on. It was the thought of being on the receiving end of his flogger—the one receiving the type of pleasure found in pain.
Please.
My dragon’s whimper to play hit me hard, the fact I wanted to be the one submitting rather than dominating even harder. “Alpha,” I muttered aloud, reminding us both of our dominance as a blood born dragon from the royal line.
I’d caught a hint of Ashley’s scent while following her down the hallway into the sex club, but the overwhelming perfumes of human and sex masked her—if she’d even made her way into the lounge area.
My female … found delight in a sex club. I couldn’t have asked for more. Couldn’t have been more pleased—so why didn’t my inner dragon hiss his desire to tie her up? Stripe her ass in the way Elijah had mine countless times? Why did I want to pleasure her with gentleness—loving tenderness?
A fierce frown dented my brow as I licked my lips, hoping for a taste of Ashley’s sweetness in the air.
Cries of ecstasy jerked my head to the left … the lounge’s far corner. A dark-haired man fingered a woman through her climax, her cum slipping around his hand, dripping to the floor.
Her scent slammed into me with a wave, and my dragon growled a rumble deep in my chest to taste. To claim.
My female.
Pale, shapely legs led to her rounded ass the man now caressed, and my need to taste leaped to fierce protectiveness in a single heartbeat.
No longer cloaked, I strode across the room, darkness seizing my mind, my self-control, something that hadn’t happened in over a hundred years.
He’s touching her. Mine.
My dragon hellbent on ripping the man’s arms from his torso, I stalked forward, eating up the distance between us in a matter of seconds, my claws shimmering in and out of sight.
The width of his shoulders came close to mine, but the breadth of his chest didn’t compare. An easy to defeat opponent, my dragon shrieked, clawing at my brain as I pulled all attempts to shift deep inside me where he couldn’t explode into a mass of muscle, sinew, and scales.
I grabbed the man’s shoulder and spun him toward me, my other fist shooting out, connecting with his nose before he had a chance to blink.
Green eyes. Brilliant like spring grass—
My dragon shrieked again as he grabbed hold of my upper arms to keep from falling. Electrical charges raced up through my chest, catching my breath as we stared into each other’s eyes.
Mate.
Dick immediately swollen—leaking at his touch—I hesitated a mere blink, my desire to drop to my knees and worship him shattering all I had hoped for my future.
His punch landed on my side with enough pain my stubbornness rose with a flap of dragon wings, and growling with the need to kill, the need to fuck, goddamn need—I clocked him on the side of the side of the head. He held tight to me, yanking me down as he fell like a bag of bricks, stunned but not knocked out.
I landed on top of him with a groan, my aching dick pressed against his, a wave of desire slamming into me. “Fuck. Me,” I gasped the words, blinking once more.
A cocky grin wobbled his lips, and he shifted his hips beneath me, pressing his own hard-on against mine. “I’m usually the one in charge, but that’s one command I would love to obey.”
His low voice slithered over my skin, waking goosebumps in its path, like a physical caress, and I froze.
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
When an obnoxious frat boy hits on Fae Mai-Mai Collins, she nearly gets arrested for magical assault. But then he ends up dead on the back steps of her cafe, and her life, as well as that of her Gremlin lover, Ry-Ry, is sent into a tailspin.
Now the police are on her tail about the murder, her business has become a spectacle for Fae watchers and Fae haters alike, and her life seems to be in danger from some unknown force.
With a magical geas taking over her body to find the truth and a host of frat boys and sorority girls all lining up as suspects, it’s hard for the mild mannered coffee shop owner to tell who is guilty and who is the victim.
Is the true mystery discovering who killed the frat boy, or is it discovering what darkness lies beneath her skin?
Mai Collins looked up from the book she was trying to read and stared at the man who unceremoniously dropped down into the seat opposite to her. She looked around the nearly empty coffee shop before shooting her uninvited guest a narrow-eyed, exasperated look and then again glancing around the Java Jump, hoping that he would catch the hint, but nope. He went right on speaking as if the huge, unsubtle hint she had thrown in his direction had never happened.
“I think you’re beautiful, but you would be even more so if you smiled.”
As if to demonstrate, he opened his mouth in some facsimile of a Miss Universe smile, complete with dimples. She was nearly blinded by the blue-white porcelain caps that glinted in the recessed lighting like a cosmetically implanted dental star. All that was missing was the high-pitched tone emphasizing the perfection of his artificial smile.
He really wasn’t that bad looking, once you got past the artificial moonlight of his teeth. He had short dark hair, deeply tanned skin, and a body that appeared to have more experience in a gym than in etiquette classes, because really… who just sits down at a table and throws out one of the cheesiest and most insulting pick-up lines ever?
This will not stand. She carefully placed a bookmark in her book and laid it on the table beside her cup of cooling peach nectar. People who creased pages were real monsters and deserved to be slapped about the face and head until they got a clue.
“You know,” she spoke in her smoothest tone, tossing long tendrils of her curly auburn hair behind her shoulders as she leaned forward. “I have a theory, too.” She shot him a sultry look that had him grinning harder and leaning forward to make their conversation more intimate.
“Really?” he encouraged eagerly. “Tell me more.”
“I have a theory that you will be more attractive from behind…” He perked up, then her voice fell flat “…as you walk away.” His smile fled and her face dropped into its usual resting bitch-face of epic proportions before she curled her lip in disgust, exposing two of the daintiest, sharpest fangs to ever grace a preternatural creature. “Care to test out my theory and prove how true it is? Why don’t you walk the fuck away?”
For a moment he stared at her in shock before the color drained from his face. The sound of his chair scraping back as he lurched to his feet was even sweeter than the sound of his muttered “You ain’t that hot” as he scurried out of her sight.
“I was right!” she called out to him. “You didn’t miss squat day, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a total ass!”
He left her shop, and she picked up her book.
Once again, life was beautiful.
* * *
Mai should have seen it coming. After all, she was dealing with humans, and when one dealt with humans it was best to assume the worst in any situation.
“I did not attack that boy,” she growled at the two detectives — Magics Division, of course — who now stood, grim-faced and determined as they tried to surround her in the middle of her coffee shop.
She glanced around at her customers. The humans showed a mixture of concern and fascination as they tried to see what was going to happen next. Most, however, being Fae themselves, were doing one of two things: the newbies were heading for the hills at the first sight of the iron badges and suppressant collars that hung from the two officers’ belts; and the regulars had their phones out because Fae harassment by law enforcement was finally getting recognition as something that every Fae, no matter the type, had to put up with because of the stupid magical malfeasance laws. The damn laws hadn’t really changed since the 1500s, when most Fae populations decided to make themselves known to humans — with the most disastrous of consequences. There was a time not too long ago when the Fae could be killed on sight, and from the way the police behaved, one would think those laws still applied.
And finally, the watchers who believed Fae were genuinely evil and were a blight against their god, no matter who or what they were worshiping this week, were trying to pack themselves into her coffee shop to see the downfall of another twisted being that shouldn’t exist.
For someone who liked to live life low-key, this was an utter disaster.
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Sci-fi, Dark Desire,
Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance
A Shadow Demon, hell-bent on protecting his city…
Alexei Petrov has more money than he can ever spend in many lifetimes, but his life is more than glitz and glamour. Behind the scenes, Alex is part of an elite group working in the shadows, hunting down those who would prey on the most vulnerable in the city. Which is how he found the most desirable women he’s ever seen.
A young mother in fear for the life of her child…
Merrily fled with her daughter with death on her heels. She has no idea what her father has done, but he’s managed to throw her and little Bellarose into the middle of a war. Scared, hunted, Merrily gets caught in the crossfire of what looks like a gang war, but it’s something far more sinister. A desperate flight lands her in the arms of Alexie Petrov. Literally. And the man is everything she knows she can never have but wants with every fiber of her being.
Nowhere to hide…
Even tucked safely away in the home of the richest, most powerful man in the city of Rockwell, Merrily’s past finally catches up with her. Bellarose’s father has come calling, and hell is hot on his heels. Fleeing seems like her only option, but Alex is just as dangerous as anything headed her way. And far too seductive and possessive for her peace of mind. Though she knows he will only break her heart, Merrily can’t resist the lust that burns between them and soon finds herself more than infatuated with the man. Needing to prove her worth, Merrily knows she’s up for the challenge. Welcomes it. But just who are the demons in the night? And why does she welcome this one’s embrace?
The thing about homeless shelters was they were exactly what the name described and nothing more. Shelter. For the homeless. There was nothing remotely safe about them. Merrily Dane couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a decent night’s sleep. Between the creepy pervert who was supposed to be on the other side of the room away from the young mothers and children, and the drug addicts — who weren’t supposed to be there in the first place — making deals at all hours of the night, she was turning into a paranoid insomniac.
She tightened her hold around her daughter, Bellarose, and whispered next to her ear, “I love you, pumpkin.” Merrily hated being in this situation, but until she could get on her feet again, she didn’t have much choice. Getting back on her feet wasn’t going to be easy without an identity.
“I love you back, Mommy.” Somehow, the child seemed to know she needed to keep her voice down. She’d learned quickly in the time they’d been on the run. It broke Merrily’s heart nearly as much as it made her angry.
“Hey, Mommy?” Rose continued to whisper.
“Yeah, baby.”
“When we get to our forever home, can I have a black cat, and a white cat, too?”
“Sure, baby. I’ll do my best.” Merrily’s heart was breaking. Rose asked for the same thing every night. They’d left her black-and-white tuxedo cat when they’d been forced to leave and the girl had been heartbroken. Hell, Merrily had been heartbroken.
Fortunately, the lady next door had agreed to look after the animal while Rose and Merrily were on “vacation.” Mrs. Burton had offered to take the cat several times in the past so Merrily didn’t feel like she’d imposed too much on the older woman. Instead of a fun-loving outing, however, she and Rose were stuck in a homeless shelter trying to make their way out of the reach of whatever gangster her father had crossed.
The barracks layout of this shelter wasn’t exactly conducive to privacy or quiet, but it was all she’d been able to find with an available bed in this city. This time of year, the shelters were maxed out. Luckily, she’d found a spot in the corner so she could put her daughter on the inside of the bed and herself between Rose and everyone else. It was a small, bunk-style bed barely big enough for one person, but Merrily was small and her daughter was only four. She figured she needed to find something better in the morning because this place was seriously creeping her out. Then again, it was probably the only shelter that didn’t require an ID and she couldn’t afford to be on the grid.
Which brought Merrily to her greatest worry. Despite the shady characters surrounding her, despite not knowing where their next meal was coming from, despite the shelter being one step away from being out on the streets alone with a four-year-old, Merrily was terrified her father’s “employers” were finally on her trail. It was nothing overt, just a feeling of being watched.
Bellarose shivered and Merrily brought the threadbare blanket higher to make sure the child was covered completely. She hated turning her back to the room — especially since she knew she needed to keep an eye on everyone and everything — but she knew she was too slight of build to be much good in a fight and the only protection her daughter had was Merrily’s own body. She tried to shift the arm pillowing Rose’s head to get circulation going again.
Life sucked sometimes. She and her beloved daughter were cold. In a homeless shelter full of shady people. Terrified out of their minds. Being hunted. She could practically feel the hunters breathing down her neck. She had to get out of this city. The only reason she’d stopped here was because it was as far as her money would take her and the only city with a bus station in the area.
After a couple of hours worrying about what her next move needed to be, she finally drifted off, wondering how the hell she was going to get herself out of this mess.
* * *
“If you keep Hell Bitch waiting, it will just be that much worse.” Azriel wasn’t actually referring to a person. He referred to the white cat that had adopted the Shadow Demons as her humans. She completely ignored the black cat currently dozing in Azriel’s lap. The white cat’s gaze focused completely on Alexei Petrov, and Hell Bitch’s ears were laid back in that way cats have of showing their complete displeasure with someone.
Alexei Petrov glanced down at the feline warily. The beast might look innocent sitting there all prim and proper-like with her tail curled around her paws, but she was even more of a demon than any man in their organization. Alexei and his crew were justice when justice was overlooked or beaten down. Called vigilantes by some. Heroes by others. Personally, Alex thought all of them fought their individual demons so the name Shadow Demons fit in more ways than one.
“Don’t let the pussy make you a pussy, boss.” Giovanni Romano was the tech guy in a group of tech guys. If there was a gadget he didn’t have or know how to get, no one had ever been able to name it. Not only could he obtain anything they wanted or needed, he made himself an expert with it in a few hours, thanks to his photographic memory and genius IQ. If he still didn’t have what he needed — or wanted — the bastard simply made it. He was invaluable in their endeavors, but he was a bit of a smart ass.
Alexei flipped him off as he bent down to scoop up Hell Bitch, as they affectionately called the demon cat. She abruptly flattened her ears, bared her teeth, and scratched the shit out of him. When he dropped her, she turned and sauntered over to her food bowl and sat down, again looking straight at Alex.
“Bitch,” he muttered under his breath. The cat growled softly, her dual-colored eyes narrowing. “Just for that you get the dry food.” He poured a scoopful into her bowl. Hell Bitch reached over and upended the bowl as if to say get me the fucking Royal Canin, bitch boy.
Alex raised an eyebrow, glancing at Gio, who was studiously looking everywhere but at him. Then Alex stomped to the cabinet and grabbed Hell Bitch’s favorite flavor from a stockpile of canned cat food. He opened it and the cat’s whole face relaxed as if in bliss. Again, she sat all prim and proper with her tail wrapped around her feet until Alex had gotten every morsel out of the can.
“Have at it,” he grumbled. When Azriel snickered, Alexei smacked the back of his head as he walked by. “Next time,” he told Azriel, “feed her before six. I’m not the only one with access to the fucking cat food.”
“She thinks it’s your job to feed her in the evening,” Azriel commented, raising a hand in surrender. “You know she won’t eat unless you put her food out.”
“Fucker,” he muttered as he stalked through the room to the shower. It had been a long fucking day and he just wanted to scrub himself from head to toe.
Before he could, however, Giovanni stiffened and sat up straight in his chair. Alex paused. “We got bad guys afoot?”
Giovanni’s workstation consisted of a wall of monitors showing every corner of the problem sections of the city of Rockwell. The wealthy, more affluent sections monitored themselves, but the people in the sectors the Demons monitored were at the mercy of the city’s underground crime bosses. This was where men like the Demons were needed. Places the police were afraid to go. As time-consuming as it was setting up tech to monitor these places, as well as the endless testing of gadgets and physical training, this was something Alex knew he had to do. It was what he had been born to do.
“Hell’s Playground.” Azriel sighed as he glanced over Gio’s shoulder. “It’s every fucking week with that place. If there’s trouble, you can bet it will be there.”
The Night Owl Romance Spring Fling reader event is here!
Ready to Win? I’ve teamed up with Night Owl Romance and other authors to bring you the chance to win a Waterproof Kindle Paperwhite (USA ONLY) & Amazon Cards (Open to the World).
During this event, I’m going to help you find some great new books. Make sure to check out my novel COWBOY (A Bad Boy Romance) — writing as Harley Wylde — along the way.
Five short, hot tales of the Dixie Reapers MC – and the women they love.
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Contemporary, Kindle Unlimited,
MC Romance, New Adult, Silver Fox
Five short, hot tales of the Dixie Reapers MC.
Claiming Ridley: I’ve been with Ridley for five years now, and she’s still the sexiest woman I know. I love showing her how much I love every curve. And tonight I’m going a step further…
Property of Venom: Ridley wears my damn stamp on her arm. But some asshole grabbing her ass doesn’t seem to care about that…
One Hot Biker: I knew I shouldn’t want Ryker. Of all the guys for me to fall for, it had to be this one? The most forbidden of them all. And I couldn’t get enough.
Delphine’s Punishment: After three years, Delphine still surprises me. The naughty woman has been keeping something from me. I’ll have her screaming and begging before the night’s over.
Just One Night: I’ve never been a saint, and I’ve always loved women. The woman at the diner is a bit young for me, but she’s just too fucking tempting. One taste, just one night then I’ll put her from my mind. Right…
I crept through the house, trying not to wake the girls. Any of them. My daughters, Mariah and Farrah, were both passed out in their bedroom. I moved deeper into the house and saw my woman sprawled across our bed. She’d managed to strip down to a T-shirt and panties before she’d face planted in the center of the mattress. I smiled a little as I leaned against the doorframe and admired the view. Even after having two kids, Ridley was the sexiest woman I’d ever seen. She’d claimed me five years ago, in front of my fucking club. It still made me laugh and has amused the shit out of me ever since she’d done it.
Pushing the bedroom door shut, I twisted the lock and stripped out of my clothes. I went to the closet and pulled out a few toys, and a special box I’d been hiding, before I crawled onto the bed, caging her body beneath mine. I pressed my hard cock against her panty-clad ass and rubbed against her. After our second daughter was born, Ridley had put on the brakes until she’d gotten on birth control. We both loved our daughters, but they were hell on wheels. If we had a third, I worried that Ridley might lose what little sanity she had left. I hadn’t minded so much. It gave me a good excuse to play with her delectable ass and fuck it often. And my naughty girl had loved every second of it.
I dragged my beard across the back of her neck, then nipped her shoulder. Bracing my weight on my knees, I dragged her shirt up her body and wrestled it off her. One thing I’d learned about my Ridley… she slept like the fucking dead. But I knew just how to wake her up, and it required a lack of clothing.
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy,
Dark Desire, Gay, Shapeshifters, Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures
Dragon Food: Something is hunting along the Gulf coast of Florida, and Mark Tavery is tasked with finding it. His expertise in dragons is his pride, but he can’t say the same about his romantic relationships. When he picks up a lamp during his investigation, he’s shocked at his instant attraction to, and all-consuming need for, the genie inside. Mark’s greatest desire is to have Luke in his life and in his bed, but giving in to the promise in Luke’s touch means Mark runs the risk of killing the genie he loves.
Dragon Fire: Luke is a genie with almost limitless power, but it does him no good when his lover, Mark, won’t let him have the two things he really wants: for Mark to rely on him as an equal partner during magical conflicts, and to be dominated in bed. Will Luke ever get the chance to prove that he can be both strong in the field and the perfect submissive in the sack?
Dragon’s Bane: Atlas, a genie-god with nearly limitless power, has one task. He must find the modern equivalent of Cerberus and kill it. He discovers the three-headed dog’s incarnation are three figures that surround his current master — Dan’s current lover, Reese, Mark, a water dragon and Reese’s obsession, and Luke, Mark’s genie. Mark and Luke find their memories are altered and untrustworthy. One thing is clear: Only their love for each other can save them — and everyone at SearchLight — from Atlas completing his terrible final task.
Being trapped in a lamp for twenty years at a time wasn’t as unpleasant as it sounded. Damn lonely but not unpleasant. Luke, like all genies, was able to make his prison a palace, and as long as he kept busy, each time of confinement went swiftly. He’d been alive for over ten centuries; what was a score of years?
This stint was almost done. He went to the covered clock that hung on the other side of the room, walking easily with the almost imperceptible rocking of the lamp under his feet. His last mistress, after getting what she most wanted, had tossed his prison over the side of a boat, and he’d been forced to go with it.
He brushed the clock’s velvet curtain aside so he could study the face. The hands read April 2004, and he nodded. Almost twenty years had passed. His lamp would be picked up soon. Goddess, God, or fate always made it so.
Luke grabbed his wrists and stretched upward, wincing at the satisfying series of pops that walked up his back. “About time.” He shot a glance at his bookshelves. “This time, I’ll bring back more books.” He leaned backward and rolled into a handstand. Facing away from the clock now, he headed for his closet. Its doors slid back, disclosing outfits that reflected the many centuries of his existence. His first-meeting wear would never be current, but that didn’t matter; peacock behavior was for mortals.
He laughed. “Says the man who keeps almost everything he wears in any century.” He curled down into a crouch, then stood, shedding both boxers and T-shirt with two fluid movements. “Maybe a traditional genie turban…” Brushing clothes this way and that on the closet’s bar, he didn’t at first feel the summoning tingle that started at the roots of his hair. “Or a business suit?”
The tingling spread down to his neck and then out to both hands. Luke scrabbled for his boxers. “Wait! I’m not ready!”
“Use your magic, stupid,” spoke up Benji’s voice. His maker was long gone, but his voice seemed to always come at the best and worst times.
He laughed again and started to think himself into a pair of swimming trunks, but the summoning tingle encompassed his whole body. Naked, his own powers frozen for the moment of transport, he was sucked out of the lamp.
Well, he was definitely going to make an impression. He grinned inside himself like a fully risen sun. Best case scenario, his new master would be blind, and thus his nudity wouldn’t matter.
Transport complete, the tingling feeling receded. Hovering above the water like a leaf in an updraft, Luke gazed down at the man who treaded water below him. His new master’s eyes were hidden by what Luke assumed was a newfangled version of the scuba mask his last mistress had worn on occasion. Dark brown hair like bittersweet chocolate made little plastered curls on his forehead and neck, and his face was lightly tanned.
“Put some clothes on!” Benji all but screamed, and Luke snapped his fingers.
Swimming trunks appeared. He sank into the water, cradling the lamp under one arm to keep it from floating away. In the same breath, he buried his magic within himself, rather like covering a neon pink and spiky-bad haircut with a hat. Any other magical beings within a hundred meters of him would know where and what he was, but those farther away would have no idea he was here unless they were seeking his magic-signature specifically. Partial anonymity would help him focus on only his master.
His magic safely hidden away, he smiled at said master. “Hello, Master. My name is Luke.” That hadn’t been his name when Benji had made him a genie; he’d adopted the new name some hundred fifty years ago. He swam forward a few strokes, surreptitiously checking out their surroundings. A mostly empty beach was visible in the middle distance. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought he might still be in the Gulf of Mexico, where his mistress had dropped him. The water was ocean-buoyant with salt, and calm. He hadn’t been summoned to save his master from drowning.
His master pushed up the mask, revealing blue eyes just a shade lighter than the water around them. He laughed, a deep, rough purr. “Whichever of my coworkers hired you, tell them you had me going for a minute, especially with the mirrors or whatever you used to appear naked in midair, but I’m not interested in any one-night stands.” He pulled the mask back down. “Oh, and tell them — whoever they are — that they don’t know my taste in men at all.” He struck out for shore.
That was the first frustrating part: convincing his new master that he was in possession of a genie. The second would come when Luke had to explain the rules. Well, soonest begun and all that.
Luke did another check of the beach. There were people there, but none of them seemed to be staring in their direction. They were alone out here in the water. He vanished, reappearing in midair before his master’s eyes. “Can you explain this?” He rolled over on his back, tipping his head back so he could look at the man in the water. “What’s your name, Master?” Not that it mattered. Masters and mistresses usually didn’t want you to use their name; it was just something to ask so the silence wouldn’t rush in. He hated silences. They were annoying.
“I’m Mark,” his master said. “Of SearchLight.”
Luke didn’t recognize that name, but it was apparently significant to his master.
“I don’t know how you’re doing this,” Mark said, “but there’s surely a trick of science involved.” He swam under Luke, who resisted the urge to roll over and keep him in view.
Mark passed his hands under Luke, not quite touching him.
He could feel the heat of those hands, and he wanted to move just enough to make the contact, however brief, skin to skin. Mark’s voice — steady like a professor’s but rough as if he used it as a weapon — called to all Luke had denied himself for far too long. This new master looked nothing like Jesse, but that somehow made Luke’s desire okay.
“Okay,” Mark said, “this is sophisticated.” He sounded intrigued. “What kind of technology?”
Luke turned over. “You’re a man of science?” Why couldn’t he run into someone who believed in anything and everything? No, that would be too easy.
“More or less.” Mark’s eyes shone like a mirage. Yes, he was intrigued. “Is this some new science?” His eyes flicked to Luke’s swim trunks. “You’re not hiding some kind of…” He shook his head, muttering, “Nothing’s that small, and this isn’t Star Trek.”
Not understanding the reference any more than he knew the meaning of SearchLight, Luke ignored it. If he had to know, he’d find out. “I promise, I’m not using any sort of scientific find to stay suspended up here.” He made his trunks disappear for a moment, waited until Mark’s jaw had dropped far enough and his cheeks had colored before poofing the trunks back into place. “See?” His gaze flicked down to the water, and he wondered if Mark was sporting an erection or if that was just the play of light on water.
“Yeah… I see.” Mark started for the beach again, tugging once, harshly, at his swim trunks. “Will you answer a question?” His voice was unsteady, but when he glanced over his shoulder, that gleam was still in his eyes.
Fighting the need to swim under Mark, maybe even touch him, Luke said, “Sure.” He sank back into the water and swam beside Mark. “You’re a little confused, right? Let me try to help. I’m a genie, and you rubbed my lamp.” He paused. Twenty years was too long to go without a tease or two. “Feel free to rub other things.”
Dashiell “Dash” Jordan runs the city of Shaker with an iron fist. Whatever he wants, he gets — except the woman he craves, who hasn’t been available. He’s waited long enough, and nothing will stop him, not even her bastard ex-husband or her con artist father. But once Dash sets his sights on her, will she allow herself to be owned, or will she walk away a second time?
Christy Lane never loved anyone the way she did Dash. She knew the danger of being with him, but she didn’t care. Then Dash left her. She tried to put her life back together, but that life included marriage to a perpetual cheater, being thrown out of her father’s church, and working in the only job she can get — stripping. Then Dash reappears. The memories of their life together rush back — the scenes, the passion and craving. She doesn’t want to be a plaything, but he’s offering her the world. Will she allow him to own her or end their second chance before she’s hurt again?
“Did you see this?” Tate Moore strolled into the office. “Dash?” He threw the newspaper on Dash’s desk. “I have found you a wife.”
Dashiell Jordan moved his tablet out of the way and accepted the newspaper. He needed a lot of things in his life, but not a wife — at least not a random woman to be his wife. He wanted his high-school sweetheart.
“Sir, you need to see her.” Tate pointed to one of the photos. “I bet she’d be a good wife.”
He turned the paper around and scanned the images. None of the women was his girl. He wasn’t even sure which one Tate meant and didn’t care. He knew where his woman was and when the time was right, he’d bring her home. “Why would you pick this one?” The woman was pretty enough, but not right. Her hair was too dark, her eyes were brown, and the smile didn’t match the one he remembered. Besides, she was way too young. “No, thanks.”
“Sir, you’re too picky.” Tate folded his arms. “I get it. You want the right woman, but you’re lonely and I’m tired of women who claim they’ve been with you… they come around and insist they’re your girlfriend. They think they should live here.”
“At the club?” Dash laughed. No one outside of his circle of close associates knew where he lived. He brought lovers to the hotel. Never to his home.
“Remember Sasha? She keeps stopping here. She thinks you’re together,” Tate said.
“I never slept with her.” He’d given the woman money and a place to stay because he’d felt sorry for her, but he hadn’t been attracted to Sasha.
“But she is telling everyone within earshot that she’s your girl. She says she’s a kept woman,” Tate said. “You have to set the record straight.”
“Jesus.” Being notorious meant he drew a certain type of people into his orbit, but this was too much. “Pay her tab, get her a ride, and make sure she gets home.” He couldn’t push too hard — not in this instance. Sasha struck him as the type to use the courts to get what she wanted — money. If he danced around her a little more, she might get the message. If not, he had other ways of getting rid of her.
“Is that it?”
He glared at Tate. “Yes.”
“Yes, sir.” Tate left the office.
God damn it. He hated how he’d been turned into a commodity. Sasha and the others didn’t love him. They loved the money and status he brought. They wanted the relative fame of being associated with him. They’d never be able to handle the danger or stress of his life. They’d want him to settle down and create a family. Not going to happen.
He sighed. The woman he wanted wasn’t far away, and once the paperwork went through, he’d have her in his arms. He longed to kiss her — not stolen kisses or hidden embraces. Not playing games in the dark or under the threat of being caught, but having her on his arm for a night out. Once he had her, he’d never let Christy go. He’d found her, but refused to demand her to become his woman.
His phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts. He read the identification screen. Clint, his brother. He tapped the button to retrieve the call and set the phone to speaker.
“Yes?”
“I hear you’re looking at buying the building on the north side of the Copa Room,” Clint said. “The Sandborn building?”
“Yes, I want to expand.” He turned the paper over without really looking at it, then flattened the page. He noticed the photos of exotic dancers in an advertisement for one of the clubs. The girls weren’t his type of woman, but he appreciated beauty. Maybe this week she’d be one of the featured dancers.
“Well, they want two hundred thousand, but because it’s vacant, we can talk them down,” Clint said. “A hundred-fifty thousand is more reasonable.”
“Why, if you know what to do and can get the price down, aren’t you negotiating? Clint, I’m one of your only clients.” None of the dancers caught his fancy, but he kept looking. He’d found proof Christy was stripping in one of the clubs, but hadn’t come across her yet. “Well? You should be in the business with me. We should be a team.”
“Because I don’t want to live with the danger. I like being legitimate,” Clint said. “But I’m already negotiating. They’re coming down on the price, so stay tuned.”
“Danger isn’t the only thing I live with.” He doubted Clint got death threats or was shot at on a regular basis. He turned the page of the paper. A slew of ads for strip clubs decorated the space. He looked over the images of the dancers for the one he wanted. There she was, right where he’d expected her to be — Chastity Lane at the X-Caliber Club. Time to visit. “Do you know the X-Caliber Club?”
“Dash.” Clint groaned. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? And no, I don’t. I’ve never been to a strip club. Father made sure my handlers didn’t take me to one. Why?”
“I heard nothing past a hundred-fifty thousand. If you can get the deal going, do it,” Dash said. “I’ve gone to a couple clubs, but not the X-Caliber.” He remembered how his father sheltered Dash’s oldest brother. Their father wanted Clint to stay clean and be the face of the family. Good for public relations, but bad because the family had never left the nightclub business. Clint had a head for real estate, but not running the string of entertainment hotspots.
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Contemporary, Interracial,
MC Romance, Silver Fox, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance
Meg – For ten years I suffered at the hands of a monster, bought at auction and forced to be a slave, at the whim of a Columbian drug lord who also ran underground fights. Then the Devil’s Boneyard came to rescue one of their own and I was free. I don’t know who I am anymore, or what my purpose is. I only know one thing. Cinder, the President of Devil’s Boneyard, makes me feel safe and that’s something I haven’t felt in forever. But one kiss and I’m seeing him in a new light, and I know that one kiss will never be enough.
Cinder – Meg’s a sweet girl, a little angel who tends to sing and distract me as she cleans my house. I never said she had to pay for her keep around here, but she insists. She’s easily thirty years my junior, which makes me feel like a sick fuck every time I get hard around her, especially after all she’s suffered. Then I royally fucked up and kissed her. Now that I’ve had a taste, I want more, even though I know we’re doomed. A threat to my club, and to Meg, has her under my roof 24/7, and I have no idea how I’ll keep myself from giving into temptation. Whoever leaked her information to The Inferno is going to pay in blood. Even if I haven’t claimed her, Meg is mine, and I always protect what’s mine.
WARNING: Scorching hot sex, a club president who isn’t afraid to inflict some violence on his enemies, and a woman who discovers she’s stronger than she thought. Please be advised there are mentions of physical and sexual abuse, as well as human trafficking of teens, even though nothing is described in detail.
That damn woman was singing again. How the fuck was I supposed to concentrate on club business when she was sashaying all over the damn house belting out whatever song she’d last heard on the radio? All the women from Colombia were re-homed and off living their lives. Then there was Meg. Damn woman refused to leave the compound unless I sent two men with her. She was constantly jumping at shadows, and doing things like organizing my fucking closet by item type and color. Who the fuck did that shit?
When she started the song over, I growled and threw my pen across the room, watching it bounce off the wall and clatter to the floor. No matter how damn annoying I found it, I couldn’t very well go down there and growl at her. I’d tried it once and she’d promptly burst into tears before running from my house. Then I’d felt like an asshole for scaring her. I didn’t know what to do with her. The men gave her a wide berth most of the time, unless she needed something. They were all there in an instant if they thought Meg was having trouble, or needed protection.
She was always cooking for someone or other, cleaning my fucking house, doing my laundry. Hell, she even bought my groceries. I should be thrilled I didn’t have to handle any of that crap anymore, and I might have been, if the woman didn’t make me hard all the damn time. Even now, with her singing the same thing over and over, I was hard as a fucking steel post. I was staring sixty in the eye and Meg couldn’t be more than twenty-five or twenty-six. Young enough to be my daughter, damn near young enough to be my granddaughter. Made me feel like a sick fuck, even though the age difference didn’t seem to bother my VP. He was more than twenty years older than his wife, Clarity, and I’d never seen two people so in love. Except maybe Havoc and that psycho woman of his.
When I’d reached forty and hadn’t found a woman, I’d decided that family shit just wasn’t for me. I hadn’t even touched the club sluts, not in a long-ass time. It had gotten too fucking complicated when I discovered some of them were trying to get pregnant on purpose to trap me and the others in my club. After that, I went on dates here and there with older women in surrounding towns. I hadn’t scratched that itch in probably six months, which might explain why Meg was getting a rise out of my dick all the damn time. Or maybe it was just how sweetly she was curved. I had no doubt she’d be a nice handful if I had her in my bed.
My eye twitched when Meg started her damn song yet again. It wasn’t that the song was annoying so much as it pissed me off that my dick seemed to like her voice a little too much. I unfastened my pants, knowing there was only one way to fix this shit, at least for an hour or two. I pulled open the desk drawer and grabbed the bottle of lube and dragged the box of tissue closer. After squirting a liberal amount of the liquid on my palm, I wrapped my hand around my shaft and started stroking. My eyes slammed shut as her voice carried through the closed door, and I imagined the sounds she’d make as I pounded into her. It only took a few strokes after that for my cum to cover my hand and hit the desk. I groaned as my dick twitched but didn’t completely deflate.
After cleaning myself and the desk up, I tossed the tissues into the trash and shoved my chair back. I rose to my feet, fastened my pants, and decided enough was enough. The way she was affecting me today, I knew I’d be hard again within an hour, and I had too much shit to do to keep jerking off. I went through the house to the kitchen, where she’d dumped the laundry all over the table and seemed to be matching socks. Her hips swayed back and forth as she belted out the lyrics to whatever pop song was stuck in her head this time.
“Is all that fucking racket really necessary?” I asked, my tone a bit harsher than I’d intended.
She gasped, her hand at her throat as she spun to face me. Her wide, frightened eyes made me feel like a complete shit, but I could only handle so much. I needed her gone. Not just from my house, but from the compound. I just hadn’t figured out how to make that happen yet. I couldn’t exactly toss her out without anywhere to go or a way to take care of herself. I wasn’t that big a monster, but she was too fucking tempting.
“I can’t work with you singing at the top of your lungs,” I said. “I need to get the week’s numbers to Shade by end of the day so he can pay everyone, and it requires concentration.”
“I’m s-sorry, Cinder. I didn’t mean to keep you from working.” She glanced at the table full of laundry. “I can come back and finish this later. I was going to make lasagna for dinner with garlic bread, and I can always fold this stuff while it’s cooking.”
I ran a hand down my face, not sure how to make this clear to her without making her cry. “Meg, I appreciate you helping around here, and that you seem hell-bent on fattening me up, but I’m a grown-ass man and can take care of myself.”
“Right,” she said softly, her hands wringing in front of her. “I’ll just go, then. Sorry about the mess.”
She couldn’t quite hide the flash of pain in her eyes before she hurried out of the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the front door shut. I stared at the pile of laundry and wondered how asking for some quiet in my own fucking house could make me feel like such a bad man. It wasn’t like she was my fucking wife. I’d given her a place to stay, but it seemed she was always under my damn feet.
I went over to the table and swept the laundry back into the basket, then carried it to my room and dropped it on the bed. I’d fold the shit later and put it away. I couldn’t help but notice she’d made the damn bed already, with military precision at that. She’d been a quick study of how I liked to keep things, and made sure everything was perfect. Too perfect, if my closet was anything to go by. I had to wonder if she wasn’t a bit OCD.
Now that there was peace in the house, I could focus on the fucking reports and make sure my men were all paid. We’d sold a truck full of guns and ammo to some ex-military men I knew who had become vigilantes. Since they didn’t harm innocents, I didn’t mind doing business with them. Even the drugs we sold never made it into the hands of kids. I made damn sure of that. Anyone who bought from us knew better than to pull that shit, or they’d end up with a bullet between their eyes. These days we only dealt in pot, but I didn’t want to hear about some fifteen-year-old getting high off the stuff we grew and killing themselves or someone else.
I’d scaled back quite a bit on our illegal dealings, for the most part. We still had the chop shop and had opened a second one outside of town. The marijuana pulled in a small profit, and the guns were a nice bonus. When Scratch had discovered his daughter was alive, and he was going to be a grandpa, I’d pulled back from the heavier stuff. Didn’t want any of that blowing back on my VP’s family. Shade had said he could invest some of the club funds and double our profits, so I’d given him a few hundred grand to play with. Now he was investing over half a million on a monthly basis thanks to the nest egg those initial profits had brought in.
We’d never be completely legit, and I was fine with that, but I also didn’t want the law breathing down our necks and chance any of the men with families getting locked up. It was my job to protect everyone in the Devil’s Boneyard, down to the smallest kid. If that meant fewer illegal dealings, then so be it. I still took the odd job from the government as well, but the older I got, the less they called on me. Couldn’t blame them. I was still sharp, still had perfect vision, but I was getting old compared to the eighteen-year-olds they were recruiting.
I’d just finished the week’s numbers and stuffed everything in a folder for Shade when my doorbell rang. I rubbed my eyes and hoped like hell Meg wasn’t on my doorstep. I needed to get laid, and soon, if I was going to keep having her underfoot. I shoved my chair back and went to see who the fuck was bothering me. When I jerked open the door I saw Jordan with her two-year-old daughter, Lanie.
“Jordan, everything okay?” I asked.
She glared at me, her lips a thin line of displeasure and her eyes snapping with fire. I didn’t know who had pissed her off, but I had a feeling my afternoon just became incredibly busy. She was perfect for Havoc, but a general pain in my ass.
“Meg is crying and packing her shit,” Jordan said.
My heart stuttered in my chest. “What do you mean she’s packing? To go where?”
Fuck. I hadn’t meant to drive Meg away completely, just out of my fucking house. Life was so much easier when I only had to deal with club sluts at the clubhouse. Adding women to the family just complicated shit and added drama I didn’t need.
“I never told her she had to leave the compound,” I said.
“No, just your damn house.” I heard Jordan’s jaw crack she was so damn angry. “If you don’t fix this shit, I’m going to leave Lanie with you. For an entire week.”
The demon spawn in her arms gave me a grin that I wasn’t about to admit scared the shit out of me. I didn’t do kids, especially not this kid. Loved Havoc, and Jordan for the most part, but their kid was damn frightening. Anyone else who spoke to me like this would have met my fist, but Jordan was a woman and I wouldn’t lay a hand on her. Not to mention, if I upset her, then she’d make it hell on Havoc, and the last thing I needed was my Sergeant at Arms being pissed at the world because his wife was being a bitch, even though that seemed to be Jordan’s default setting.
“I’ll go talk to Meg,” I said.
My phone started ringing in my pocket and I pulled it out, noting CJ’s name on the screen. Jordan’s brother was a pain just like his damn sister, and I had serious doubts he’d ever be allowed to patch in, even if he hadn’t been fucking up as much lately.
“What?” I demanded as I answered.
“Uh, Pres, Meg is at the gate wanting to leave. Alone. With a bag in her hand. On foot.”
I closed my eyes and counted to twenty. “Keep her there. Don’t open that fucking gate for anything.”
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