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Award-winning science fiction & paranormal romance author

Her Wayward Rogue by Megan Slayer #MafiaRomance #SecondChances #NewRelease @MeganSlayer ‏

Her Wayward Rogue (The Jordan Brothers 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Sometimes finding your place means going back to where it all started.

Jaxon Jordan left the safety of the Jordan family to find himself. College, spreading his wings, and figuring out who he wanted to be were high on his list until one very bad night. When he witnesses his friend’s murder, his perspectives change. He has to go home to heal and be with the people who matter — his brothers and his girl, Emily.

Emily Wilson loved Jax once, but he left. She remained in her position working for the family. Part of her wants to open her heart to Jax again, but the rest of her yearns to stay guarded. One look at the man she craved reignites the passion she thought was gone.

Can love strike twice? If you’re a Jordan, anything’s possible.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Megan Slayer

Emily Wilson finished the spreadsheet and saved the document. She wasn’t fond of doing bookkeeping, but the paperwork was part of the job. All her employees’ hours were accounted for and every job had been assigned for the next week. She cracked her knuckles. She’d worked for the Jordan family for ten years, mowing lawns, tending to the gardens and creating the floral arrangements for the house. She still wasn’t sure if the family appreciated her efforts around the mansion. Dash liked her, and Christy treated her like a sister, but they were only two people among the many.

“Em?” Carter strolled into her office. Grass marred the worker’s shirt. “We can’t mow by the reflecting pool because the ground is too soft. We’ll end up rutting the turf.”
“Fair enough.” She wasn’t happy, but they’d had so much rain in the last few days, nothing would be fit to mow. “Otherwise?”

“We’re done. It’s past six,” Carter said. “Aren’t you going to close shop for the day?”
“Now that I know it’s six…” Damn. Where had the day gone? “Okay. Have a good evening.”

“You should go. You spend too much time here.” Carter frowned. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“No.” What was he talking about? “You do realize I live in the servants’ quarters.” She didn’t advertise she lived there, but it wasn’t a secret.

“I know.” He shrugged.

“Okay… then what’s wrong?” She hated guessing games.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” She folded her arms. “Carter, you said I should go, and it’s late. Spit it out or keep it quiet, I don’t care.”

“Jax is back.”

“Huh?” Jax? No. He couldn’t be. He’d moved to God only knew where to find himself. He wouldn’t come back to Shaker. Other than his family, he had no ties. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I saw him and was introduced to him.” Carter shrugged again.

“Huh.” She hadn’t expected him, but if he wanted to come home… fine. “With a girl?” That was none of her business, but she had to know.

“Nope. Just him. Dash’s pissed,” Carter said. “All I know is he’s home and alone.”

“Dash gets upset more often than not.” She sighed. “But Jax being home is his prerogative. Is that why you thought I’d leave? This is my job. I’m not letting him decide to fire me.” So he was back. So he’d probably opt to get involved with the family. So what?

“Everyone knows you and Jax were… close.” Carter blushed. “The rumor was he’d gotten you pregnant. It wasn’t a secret. One guy said he had pictures.”

“Christ.” Everyone knew the rumor, and she didn’t doubt someone had photographic proof of their relationship. “It was just a rumor.” She thanked God she was sitting down, or her legs would’ve given out. She couldn’t handle this.

“Right. You wouldn’t have gone pale if it was nothing.”

“Shut up.” He knew her too well. “I’m good, and he can live here. We’ll do our separate things.”

“You don’t care? What if there’s a girl coming later?”

“Then that’s on him.” She shrugged to hide her concern. A girl. Of course he’d have a girl. Jax, like every other Jordan, was handsome.

“Keep telling yourself you’re fine and maybe it’ll come true, but I doubt it.” Carter shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, and thank you.” She waited until Carter closed the door to sigh. Jax had returned. She had no choice but to face him eventually. Maybe he’d ignore her and forget she existed. Maybe his girlfriend was indeed following later and Emily wouldn’t have to worry about him. She couldn’t concern herself with a man in a relationship. She held on to those thoughts because she had nothing better.

Her heart belonged to Jax. He’d been her first love, first kiss… first time. He’d taken her to prom and been her partner in crime. Where everyone else saw her as the gardener’s daughter, Jax saw her as a person. She wasn’t a charity case in his eyes. According to his mother, Emily was nothing more than something to pass Jax’s time, and he’d done her a favor by taking Emily to the big dance. She knew better. She also knew Jax. He had a wandering soul. Why would he come back to the family compound when he could explore the country?

But he had come home.

For how long, she wasn’t sure.

 

More from Megan at Changeling Press…

When she’s not writing the stories in her head, Megan Slayer can be found luxuriating in her hot tub with her two vampire Cabana boys, Luke and Jeremy. She has the tendency to run a tad too far with her muse, so she has to hide in the head of her alter ego, but the boys don’t seem to mind.

When she’s not obsessing over her whip collection, she can be found picking up her kidlet from school.

She enjoys writing in all genres, but writing about men in love suits her fancy best.

Visit Megan: https://www.facebook.com/theauthormeganslayer

 

Saint (Dixie Reapers MC) by Harley Wylde #bikerbooks #MCromance #NewAdult #MayDecember #secretbaby #singledadromance #preorder @HarleyW_Writer

HW_DixieReapersMC12_XL

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Sofia – I didn’t know what to expect when a man loaded me and my sisters on his jet and brought us to the United States. I’d thought we’d suffer at the hands of these men, much the same as what we’d left behind. Some of us have physical wounds, but those will heal over time. It’s the emotional scars I worry we’ll never recover from. I’m going somewhere different from my sisters, alone in a new country with strange men. The man called Saint has been ordered to take me, and I admit I’m terrified. Though he’s as beautiful as an angel, there’s a hardness in his eyes that scares me — until I see him with his daughter. How can a man so gentle and kind with a child be bad? If only he’d turn some of that kindness my way… But I know he’s right to keep his distance. I’m no good for either of them. It doesn’t stop me from craving his touch, from needing his kisses like I need air. I can’t regret our one night together, no matter the consequences.

Saint — I’ve always followed orders without question, but this time I’m not so eager to help the club. Keeping Sofia under my roof, down the hall from my daughter, is the last thing I want. If the monsters from her past hurt Sofia or my sweet Delia, there will be hell to pay. No matter how much I need to harden my heart against the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, I can’t. I want her, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I’m far from celibate, but Sofia is more than a quick fuck. She’s the kind of woman you keep. I allow myself one night, one taste, one chance to hear her scream my name. After, I put the walls back up and lock her out of my heart. It was a mistake, the biggest I’ve ever made. I need her, want her, can’t live without her. But I did such a good job pushing her away, how will I ever win her back?

WARNING: This story contains a heroine who has suffered years of physical, sexual, and emotional abuse. The scenes are not described in detail but are a big part of the heroine’s past and are mentioned more than once. Guaranteed HEA, and lots of steamy scenes!

 

Available today at Changeling Press

 

or Pre-Order for July 12th at retailers

   

 

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

Saint

I hated that Torch had asked me to house one of the girls from Colombia. I didn’t like having her around Delia, didn’t know what sort of influence she would be on my small daughter. I’d heard her crying after I’d pointed out her room, but I hardened my heart and refused to go check on her. I hadn’t asked for this, and I didn’t want her here. Out of all the men at the compound, why me? I had a kid to think about. Just because I didn’t have a woman living in my house, didn’t mean I was up for this shit. I hadn’t even slept with a club whore since my daughter had come to live with me.

It wasn’t that losing her mother was so painful. I’d cared about Rhianon, but we weren’t in love. Or at least I hadn’t been in love with her. We’d had fun, and that had apparently resulted in us having a kid that she hadn’t told me about. When she’d passed, her brother had contacted me. I’d dropped everything and gone up to the Hades Abyss compound to meet my daughter.

Delia didn’t remember her mom, even though I’d made sure to keep a picture of Rhianon in Delia’s room from the very beginning, and had a few others around the house. I didn’t know her mother well enough to share many stories, not appropriate ones anyway, but her Uncle Rocket told her enough that I hoped Delia felt like she knew her mother. If there was anything I could give my little girl, it would be her mom. Even though Rhianon had kept her from me, I liked to think she’d have eventually told me. Delia was the best thing that ever happened to me, even if the only action I’d seen in the last four years was from my own hand. I’d give up women any day to have my daughter here with me. She was the most precious thing to me.

I shifted on my bed, unable to sleep. We were about to start day three with the stranger living in our home, and while Delia was starting to edge a little closer to Sofia each day, I was doing my damnedest to keep the hell away. I was twenty-seven, not some high school kid, and yet every time I looked at Sofia I could feel my body respond. It was starting to piss me off. The club whores tried but never could get a rise out of my cock, but one look at the little Colombian princess and I was hard as a steel post. What the fuck was wrong with me?

A faint noise had me going completely still and straining my ears. Another rustle of sheets and then a whimper. Was Delia having a bad dream? She hadn’t had nightmares before, but I knew introducing someone new into our home could change her sleep patterns among other things. It had just been me and Delia since she was an infant, another reason I hadn’t wanted the girl here. Girl. Woman. The way my body reacted to her, I couldn’t really call her a girl, even though I’d been told she was only nineteen. Hell, I’d been part of this MC before that age so who was I to judge based off some numbers? Age wasn’t a big deal around here. Torch was thirty years older than his wife, but she adored him.

I heard the noise again, then a scream that had me leaping out of the bed and racing from my room. The second scream sent a chill down my spine as I opened Sofia’s door. She fought against her bedding, speaking rapidly in Spanish. When she switched to English, my stomach knotted and twisted because I had no doubt exactly what was happening.

“No, Pedro. Stop! Please, don’t hurt me!” she cried out, grappling with the sheets. “No more! It hurts.”

She bucked her hips like she was trying to throw someone off. When her legs jerked apart and her arms went over her head, immobile as if someone were pinning her down, I nearly threw up. Moving farther into the room, I eased onto the bed and tried to gently rouse her.

“Sofia.” I brushed my fingers over her cheek, unable to help but notice how soft her skin was. “Sofia, it’s a nightmare. You need to wake up.”

“No. No more,” she begged. “Not again.”

Not again? Jesus. How many times had the man brutalized her? I shook her, but she just tossed her head and screamed again. I worried she’d wake Delia, and I wouldn’t know what to say to my daughter. She’d never witnessed someone having a nightmare, and it would likely scare her. Hell, it was scaring me.

After she screamed again, I decided enough was enough. I lifted her into my arms, wrapping her tight and holding her against my chest. She struggled a moment, but I kept murmuring to her, hoping to snap her out of it or at least calm her enough she could rest easy again and stop fighting off men in her sleep. If felt like forever before she started to relax. Her breathing evened out and her screams turned to whimpers, then soft murmurs. She took a deep breath and rubbed her cheek against my chest before going completely limp.

A knot lodged in my throat as I looked down at her, realizing she looked so sweet and innocent like this. Whoever had hurt her needed to pay. I eased her back down onto the bed, but she clutched at my T-shirt, holding on. I tried to pry her fingers loose, but she just held on tighter. With a sigh, I decided to just hold her until she shifted enough for me to make an escape. I leaned back against the headboard and curled an arm around her waist.

Four hours later, when the sun was starting to peek through the blinds, Sofia hadn’t moved, and my eyes were feeling like sandpaper. Delia was still quiet and would probably sleep at least another hour or two. I decided to close my eyes just for a moment, in hopes of them feeling a little less gritty. Sofia mumbled and snuggled closer, and I could feel sleep pulling me down. I must have dozed off because I woke with wide chocolate eyes staring at me in absolute terror. Her grip had loosened on me and I slid out of the bed, holding my hands up to show I meant her no harm.

“You were having a nightmare and when I tried to wake you, you grabbed onto my shirt and wouldn’t let go.”

She blinked and looked down, her cheeks flushing darkly. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I swallowed hard, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t afford to soften toward her. I needed her out of my home and away from my daughter.

“I didn’t scare Delia?” she asked, her voice heavily accented this morning.

“She slept through it,” I said.

Sofia sighed and nodded.

“I’m going to head back to my room and try to sleep until Delia wakes up. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

Before she could say or do anything else, I bolted. Big bad biker, my ass. I snorted at myself. Running from a little slip of a woman. Okay, so it was more of a brisk walk. I knew Sofia had trouble written all over her, and I didn’t need that sort of complication in my life, or Delia’s. I needed to remain strong for my daughter and do the right thing, even if running out of that room hadn’t been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. It would be better for everyone involved if Torch placed Sofia with someone else, maybe with one of the married brothers. I didn’t know why Sofia had to be in my home, but I didn’t like it.

I shut my door and leaned against it, feeling like a damn coward. I hadn’t backed down from anything in my entire life.

Before Torch had found me wandering the streets, I’d left home on my own terms because my mother’s latest boyfriend was an asshole who liked to hit people. But I’d stood up to the guy and that’s what mattered. Torch had shown me what it was like to be a real man, had given me a home and a chance at a better life. Even though I’d had to leave my sister behind, I’d done what was necessary at the time. I wouldn’t have been any good to her dead. Now my twin was the old lady of a club member, and was completely in love with Preacher. She’d brought him back from a dark place, but I think he’d saved her just as much.

I didn’t kid myself. That wasn’t me. Having an old lady? I might have wanted that at one point, and for Delia’s sake I knew I needed to consider it, but I was too worried about letting the wrong sort of woman into her life. The ladies who flocked to the MC were usually more club whore than mom of the year. I wasn’t saying they couldn’t be both, but I hadn’t found one like that yet, and that’s what I wanted. A mom who would adore Delia and give her everything she needed from a woman, and a tiger in my bed who clawed the hell out of me and begged for more. I didn’t think anyone like that actually existed. Not around these parts anyway.

 

More from Harley at Changeling Press…

Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

Website: harleywylde.com

Twitter: @HarleyW_Writer

Instagram: HarleyWylde

Facebook: Facebook.com/HarleyWylde

 

 

Pay Dirt (Bennett Family Fixers) by Kate Allenton #Supernatural #NewRelease #RomanceBooks @KateAllenton

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She’s a finder of lost things, and he’s searching for answers only she can provide.

Cassie Bennett
I have a knack for hunting and finding missing things. It makes my job and clients interesting. Whether it’s locating bail jumpers or finding missing treasures, my special skill helps me restore order to the world.
Until one of my clients ends up dead and my secret ability is exposed. Now I’ve made it onto the FBI’s radar and my life is in danger.

Nathan Murray
As an FBI Agent, I’ve made it my career to hunt criminals and throw them behind bars.
When proof surfaces that one of my mother’s killers isn’t dead and is in the wind, I’ll use everything in my power to catch him.
Including believing in the beautiful quirky woman that has crossed my path. I don’t care what woo-woo abilities she claims to use, as long as she can deliver this guy’s location.
The need to catch the killer wars with my desire to keep Cassie safe.
The balance is tilting, and I’m helpless to stop it.

Find out what happens when the hunter becomes the hunted.

 

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Available with Kindle Unlimited!

 

About Kate Allenton

Kate is a USA Today Bestselling Author who has lived in Florida for most of her entire life. She enjoys a quiet life with her husband, Michael and two kids.

Kate has pulled all-nighters finishing her favorite books and also writing them. She says she’ll sleep when she’s dead or when her muse stops singing off key.

She loves creating worlds full of suspense, secrets, hunky men, kick ass heroines, steamy sex and oh yeah the love of a lifetime. Not to mention an occasional ghost and other supernatural talents thrown into the mix.

Vasquez and James Vol. 1 by Lou Sylvre #ActionAdventure #GayRomance #NewRelease @Sylvre

Vasquez and James Vol. 1 (Vasquez and James 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

When badass meets artist, sparks and bullets fly. Blazing romance, chilling suspense, enduring love…

Loving Luki Vasquez: Renowned but reclusive weaver Sonny Bly James masters color, texture, and shape in his tapestries, but when he meets Luki Vasquez, an ex-ATF agent and all-around badass, his heart and desire spin out of control. The heat between them won’t be denied. United by danger, can Sonny and Luki put fear and anger aside, and fight together to save Sonny’s nephew and their own lives?

Delsyn’s Blues: Devastated by loss, Sonny James listens to a voice singing the blues from beyond the grave. Convinced he’s failed in an all-important life task, he tries to shut out Luki Vasquez and love just when he needs him the most. But when Luki finally breaks through Sonny’s fortress of grief, it’s just in time for the newly reunited couple to face a new, violent, escalating danger.

Finding Jackie: When Sonny James asked Luki Vasquez to marry him, Luki’s “yes” was accompanied by a request — a wedding in Hawaii. Months and many trials later, their hilltop island ceremony is poignant and funny, and every bit as beautiful as they’d hoped. The honeymoon is all sex, surfing, and sunshine… until Luki’s sixteen-year-old nephew is kidnapped by a sadistic killer. When it all comes to an ultimate showdown with evil, it’s not only love at stake, but their lives.

 

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EXCEPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lou Sylvre

Bright clothes, sunburns. Summer had arrived, and Port Clifton was awash in tourists. Since Juan de Fuca Boulevard constituted most of the town, they had nowhere else to go. They chattered and milled about, and Sonny Bly James wasn’t in the mood for chatter or milling because he was worried about his nephew, Delsyn, who always stayed gone for days, but who should have come home by now. Sonny quickened his long-legged strides and slid through the crush, trying to disturb the air as little as possible on the way to his truck.

Then he saw a man.

Which in itself wasn’t unusual, but this man, an islander, maybe Hawaiian, by the look of him, lounged cool and beautiful in loose summer whites, half-sitting on the fender of an ice-blue Mercedes, a strip of sand beach and the blue straits for a backdrop. Dark chestnut curls shining; straight, white teeth softly teasing a lush, plum-red bottom lip. His eyes, startling pale blue against brown skin, roved all over Sonny; the islander made no effort to pretend otherwise, and besides, Sonny could feel them. Their touch trickled over him like ice water, exciting every nerve he had, even those he’d never heard from before.

Which scared Sonny, a recluse by choice — and, he knew, because he’d always managed to be socially… well, clumsy. So, he turned to the weapon that had been his first line of defense since adolescence, when all the reservation had noticed that their star young grass dancer didn’t mind being gay: a smart mouth.

“What are you looking at?”

Even though the islander had responded by looking away, Sonny knew he hadn’t — couldn’t have — intimidated him. The stranger might have been a few inches shorter than him, but judging by his physique, and despite his laid-back manner, Sonny guessed the man could have dropped him with a cold look and a slap. It would have been less of a blow if he had. Instead, he freed his lower lip from his teeth and spoke.

“I beg your pardon.”

Sonny wanted to let a whole raft of words spill out, starting with “I didn’t mean it,” and ending with “so kiss me, now.” But the man’s attention had turned away. A baby in a stroller dropped a floppy brown bear at his feet. The young mother looked frazzled, at her wit’s end, carrying another child and trying to keep a third from making a dash down the boulevard. The islander squatted down — a graceful move — and picked up the bear. Right before Sonny’s eyes, his icy exterior melted, and though he didn’t smile and couldn’t pass for cheerful, he somehow seemed kind. He handed the stuffed creature back to the baby, who seemed to like him. She expressed her gratitude by spouting a number of syllables that all sounded a lot like “da.”

Sonny, angry with himself for blowing his chance to meet this chill but beautiful stranger — who might be trying to hide a kind heart — pretended he hadn’t seen. He turned his faux-stoic shoulder and walked away. A little shaky, perhaps; already sorry. Three strides and he heard a voice, unexpectedly scratchy, even hoarse.

“Hey.”

Sonny turned.

The man took a deep, lovely breath, flashed his cold-fire eyes at Sonny, and said, “I have coffee most mornings at Margie’s. In case you’re interested.”

* * *

Margie’s it was, then, the very next day. Sonny had weighed the wisdom of that, thinking it might be better if he didn’t seem so anxious.

But hell, he thought, I am anxious. Nothing about me is un-anxious.

He took the truck — which his Uncle Melvern had left him when he died a year ago and which functioned as a good luck charm. After he pulled over to the curb a half-block from Margie’s, he forced the clutch to cooperate, wrestled the column shift into first, and shut the engine down. Sort of. It kicked and spluttered, backfired, and groaned to death. He really, really hoped that the man he had come to meet had not heard that. He wanted to make a good impression. He crashed his shoulder into the door to get out, slammed the door twice to shut it, then paused to look in the side-view mirror. Some other person spoke out of his mouth — or at least that’s how it felt.

“Sonny,” it said, “here’s your chance. Don’t blow it.”

Great. A confidence builder.

The wooden sign attached over the arched brick entry said “Margie’s Cup O’ Gold,” but nobody ever called the cafe anything but just plain Margie’s. The elegant door — leaded glass set in oak panels — had been pushed open and held there with a shoe. All that stood between Sonny and whatever fate awaited him inside was a wooden screen door, the old-fashioned kind; it might have been there since the block was built in the 1890’s. He crossed the threshold wearing a smile for Margie, then reached back just in time to stop the screen from slamming behind him. “Hey, Marge,” he said, maybe not quite as loud as usual. He glanced around lazily, as if he weren’t looking for the man he’d come to think of as “the islander.” He didn’t see him. He let out a long breath that he must have been holding, wondering if he felt disappointed or relieved. He walked, casually he hoped, across the expanse of black and white parquet floor.

“Well,” Margie said, hand on hip and scolding in ringing tones. “Hello, Sonny. You’re here awfully early.”

“Margie, usually people don’t give other people a hard time for being early.”

“Shush, Sonny Bly. What do you want? Never mind, I already know. You and your fancy coffees. What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned cuppa, eh? Now that young man that came in a little earlier — real nice-looking fella; I think you’d like him — now he just ordered coffee, black and sweet. There’s a man that knows what he likes, I say.”

She’d nearly finished making the latte by the time she stopped. That was one thing about a conversation with Margie. Sonny never worried about what to say, because he was pretty sure he’d never get a chance to say it. But this time she had him a little dumbfounded. She’d said, “that nice fella,” with a sly glance out of the corner of her eye. Sonny figured she was on to him, but he couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad.

She cleared up those muddy waters as soon as she handed over his latte. “He’s around the corner, dear. The last table. Don’t worry, you look fine.”

Which left Sonny absolutely certain he should have worried more about how he looked.

There he was, the islander. Same skin, same lips, eyes, even hair. Of course. But the rest of him was dressed in a posh business suit, a light gray summer fabric so finely tailored that he might have been born in it. “So why the getup?” Sonny asked.

“Ah,” the stranger remarked. “A way with words.”

He didn’t have to say that. Sonny was already giving his forehead a mental smack. He stared at his coffee for what seemed like, maybe, a hundred and twenty-four years. He’d all but decided to bid an embarrassed farewell and beat a retreat, when the islander spoke.

“I have to go to work in a while,” he said. When Sonny looked up he added, “That’s why the getup.” No smile went with the words, but his eyes danced, like they were laughing — or maybe teasing. He reached halfway across the tile-topped table, holding out his long-fingered, manicured hand.

Sonny stared at it.

The islander said, “I thought maybe introductions would be a good place to start. I’m Luki. Luki Vasquez.”

Embarrassed again, Sonny blushed, which — he knew from experience — made his off-brown skin look purple. But in an act of sheer bravery, he put his own dye-stained and calloused hand out and took hold of Luki’s. Somehow, what felt like gibberish came out sounding like his name. “Sonny James.”

Luki leaned back when the handshake was done, draped his left arm casually over the back of the chair… revealing a bit of leather strap that might be part of a shoulder holster and something sort of gun-shaped half hidden under his jacket.

“Is that what I think it is?”

 

 

Troll’s Blog by Shelby Morgen #Futuristic #PNR #UrbanFantasy #BBW #interracial #NewRelease @changelingpress

Troll's Blog (Box Set) (Troll's Blog 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Renee George

 

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Welcome to Troll’s Blog.

So you want to know about Trolls. Well, the only thing I can tell you is about this Troll. I’m taller than most of you, stronger, faster, and I have wicked teeth. All perfectly straight, thanks to modern orthodontia, and very, very sharp.

If you’re a Troll, what better place to hang out than under a bridge, right? I mean really. What’s the use in being a Troll if you can’t catch a good laugh now and then? But if you’re a Cop, chances are you’re like genetically predisposed to mess with the Troll. Not a good move. Especially when the Troll has a thing for Cops. Especially tall, strong, hot bodied cops… Or at least one Cop in particular…

Oh. Sorry about the ads… we’re using a lot of bandwidth these days. Got to do something to stay on the grid.

Troll’s Blog includes: Troll Under the BridgeTroll in the ShadowsDen Mother, and Window Shopping.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Shelby Morgen

We’ve all heard the stories. The waves of mutations started with the Corporations screwing around with our genomes. We were all really hatched up in some Corp lab somewhere. Nothing natural about us at all.

Pretty farfetched, right?

Not really.

Oh, the Corps didn’t start this mess. Old Mother Nature did that herself. Geneticists call it Punctuated Equilibrium. We’re living proof that species don’t really evolve slowly over time. More like we run into an environmental brick wall and have to adapt or die out, so we adapt. Now. In like one generation. Which, while it scared the crap out of people for a while, is probably a good thing, because, like I said, bigger, faster, stronger… and smart enough to avoid the Corp scientists who wanted to play with our molecules.

By now you’re probably as bored as Mattie is, so let’s get to the good stuff.

My boys.

Five of ’em. Jinks, Felix, Tonk, Tony, and Sebastian. Long and lean and sleek as cats. Cause, well, they are cats. Not shapeshifters in the traditional sense. Gawd. Like there’s a tradition for shapeshifters. Anyway, Mattie called ’em Werecats. I’m not sure that’s the right term. They don’t shift from human to cat and back. They’re cats. They’re always cats. They shift from walking, talking, upright cats to… well, something you don’t wanna meet in a dark alley.

Come to think of it, you don’t wanna meet any of us in a dark alley.

Being as the world’s kinda falling apart at the moment, what with anarchy only one political fuck-up away, and what with me being a geneticist, as well as a Troll, you can see why the Corps thought I ought to come to work for them when I graduated. Berkeley thought I should stay there and teach. My mother thought I should find a nice young man and get married. Shrug. Moms.

I took the Corp job. Why? Not because I trust and admire their work, that’s for sure. No. I’d heard the rumors… we all had. I’m a curious sort. I wanted to know the truth about our genetics. Where better to go than the source to find out if the rumors were true?

Still, I was there, working with the best equipment in the world, in the most classified lab in the world, for almost a decade before I found the hidden lab.

I’d say the lab was in the basement, but the entire structure was subterranean. You know that old game they brought back for PS-X, Resident Evil 19 or something like that? With the underground labs and all the zombies? Well, I never found the zombies. That’s about the only thing I didn’t find, though.

I was having a hard week. Accidentally blew up the lab again, that sort of thing. But that’s nothing compared to the turn my life was about to take. Cause I just found the lower level. And these lab rats aren’t like any I’ve ever seen.

I got in pretty much by accident. Ran my security card through the access panel to the supply cabinet and entered my code wrong. I held down the last digit — a 9 — too long, and it repeated. I knew, in that same way you know the bacon’s going to burn before you get back to it, that I’d screwed up. Expected loud noises followed by security teams showing up.

Nothing.

So I entered my code again. Still the door didn’t budge. Instead the wall moved. I kid you not. This not-so-little piece of marble panel slid open, and the next thing you know I’m in an elevator I’ve never seen before. Going down. And for all the fact that this elevator only had two buttons, it was a mighty long trip down.

To… nothing. I thought at first it was the subterranean power plant. If you’ve played the game you’ll remember that one. Never did find that level. What I did find was a large room — easily the size of a basketball court — empty save for a few bits of shredded paper and a couple rows of cages along the far wall. Very large, empty cages. This much I got by the dim glow of the elevator light before the doors whooshed shut behind me, plunging me into total black.

Mind you, my night vision is extremely good. So I didn’t panic immediately. I waited.

Nothing but unrelieved darkness. Even night vision needs something. Moonlight. Starlight. Some native light source to amplify. There was none. Clearly time to go back up the elevator. Except that when I felt along the wall behind me, I couldn’t feel the elevator doors. Or their access panel. No doors, no seams, no little raised panel frame.

I sensed that now might be the right time to panic…

Except that panic rarely accomplishes anything. The doors hadn’t moved, and neither had I. So they were still there. What I needed now was a light switch. I began to feel my way along the wall. After all, I had a pretty good snapshot of the place in my head, at least the near end, and the elevator doors were in the middle of the wall. How lost could I get?

I already knew the cages were empty. Whatever had been down here, they’d moved everything out, right down to the paper shredder. I traced the wall to the far end, my hand trailing along about light switch height. If you think about it, they’re always in the same places. Probably some code for such things. I reached the corner without finding any interruption in the cold, smooth surface. A bit disappointed, I started to turn back.

You’re not Herman. Who are you? Excerpt from Troll’s Blog: Denmother

 

 

Outcast Son by Emily Carrington #GayRomance #LGBT #interraciallove #shifters #IR #NewRelease @CarringtonEmily

Outcast Son (Wolf Schooled 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Cast out of his pack for being psychic, Seiji seeks a home. Though he thinks of himself as lesser and doesn’t believe anyone could ever want him, he still yearns for love.

Nicholas sees all of Seiji’s potential, but he finds it difficult to be attracted to someone who’s so lost. Will Nicholas’ capacity for loving kindness help Seiji find himself and what his heart desires most?

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

Nicholas was a grunt at the campus’s main library. He did all the deliveries to departments, like trundling the projectors or VCRs around. Some of the newer rooms had LCD screens, but not everything had been upgraded. According to the head librarian, Mrs. Smythe-David, funding was being spent on more important things. Like books.

“It’s always preferable to use things until they’re no longer of use. And many of our volumes have been read to rags.”

Nicholas tended to think that access to good technology was just as important as written knowledge, but he didn’t dare argue with his boss. Being a grunt meant he could be fired out of hand if he roused any of his coworkers’ ire.

Today, his mind was taken up with thoughts outside of work as he shelved tomes on this or that. He was thinking about Seiji. Even if the black haired werewolf with the Japanese features didn’t remember him, Nicholas had watched him all semester. Not because Seiji was particularly outspoken in class, but because he was attractive. In a scruffy, clothes-too-big sort of way. His brown eyes were soulful and his small mouth was beautiful when he smiled.

Nicholas had slept with over half of the gay or bisexual males in his year. It was time to expand his circle. And maybe Seiji wasn’t gay, or bi, but there was no harm in asking.

The best thing that ever happened to our world, he thought as he shelved Magical Flora and Where to Find it, 23rd Edition, was Tilthos Charles taking over as alpha above all alphas. LGBTQ and psychic wolves are equals with straight wolves now, and having sex with someone doesn’t automatically mean you have to marry them.

Of course, there were still those traditionalists who discriminated against LGBTQ wolves, and even more who still thought having fun in the bedroom should lead directly to mating for straight and nonstraight wolves alike, but Alpha Tilthos Charles was slowly changing attitudes.

His shelving done for awhile, Nicholas headed back toward the front desk. Doubtless someone would have something for him to do. He only hoped it wasn’t cataloguing. That was boring, dusty work.

He passed one of the study carrels, glanced over… and stopped. Seiji was sitting there, poring over an open textbook. He kept rubbing at his forehead and there was a deep frown on his face.

“Do you work with flash cards?” Nicholas asked, thinking of a particularly arousing way to use the standard study tool.

Seiji jumped. He said something in another language that sounded like a curse because of the inflection he gave it. “You scared me,” he said. Then: “I know. I know. Trackers are supposed to be ready all the time.”

Nicholas blinked. “You want to be a tracker?”

Seiji flushed. “Yeah,” he muttered.

Nicholas whistled. “That’s aiming pretty high.”

Seiji said defensively, “It’s what I want to be.” He glanced at Nicholas and seemed to rein in his ill mood. “What about you?”

“A negotiator for Werewolf Watch. Why do you want to be a tracker?”

Seiji shrugged. “What did you ask about flashcards?”

So. He can be circumspect about some things. “I was wondering if you use them.”

“No.”

Nicholas’s cock seemed to leap to attention. He repressed a grin by reminding himself that Seiji might not even be gay. “I’ll make you some if I get a chance. If not, we can start with that tomorrow. It’ll be helpful,” he added when he saw Seiji’s doubtful expression.

“I can’t remember anything even after I’ve just read it,” Seiji said morosely.

“That’s because you haven’t turned it into a game yet.” Nicholas winked. “We’ll meet in my room, like we discussed. Ten still okay with you?”

Seiji nodded.

“And if you’ll take one more piece of advice, lay off the book reading for now. All it’s going to do is frustrate you.”

Seiji hesitated. Then he closed the book slowly. “I guess I could give it a rest for a little while. Do you want me to make the flashcards?”

“Nope,” Nicholas said as he came to a decision. “We’ll do it tomorrow after I quiz you.”

Seiji winced. “Why?”

“Why am I going to test your knowledge? So I know where you need help.”

Seiji sighed and began packing up his text and notes. “I don’t know anything.”

Nicholas crossed to him and touched his shoulder. “One thing you can work on tonight,” he said softly.

Seiji looked up hopefully.

“Try some positive self-talk.”

“Huh?”

“Stop calling yourself a failure in the back of your head.”

Seiji looked startled. “It’s that obvious?”

Nicholas nodded. Then he leaned close and kissed Seiji’s cheek. It was a bold move, especially with his lack of knowledge, but he couldn’t help himself. The shorter wolf looked so lost and vulnerable. “Do yourself some good. I can see you’re going to worry all night long. Take a run.”

“Around campus?” Seiji sounded like that didn’t seem too exciting.

“How about just around the track?” Which was the only place, except the perimeter, where magical creatures were allowed to run in their true form. “Shift to your wolf and go for broke. See how fast you can go, and for how long.” He kissed Seiji again because the other wolf hadn’t pulled away. “I expect a full report in the morning.”

 

 

Tempting Officer Mason by Cameron Allie #PNR #NewAdult #NewRelease #ContemporaryRomance

Tempting Officer Mason (Love Me or Leave Me 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

For years Riley has been trying to tempt her brother’s best friend into a relationship. She knows Heath has feelings for her, yet he continually thwarts her attempts to seduce him. When he finally agrees to one night with her, he puts steep stipulations on their involvement. Is Riley willing to meet his conditions, knowing it’s only one night?

The night Riley shows up unannounced at his house, shock keeps Heath from turning her away. After that first taste Heath knows he needs to distance himself, but when he shows up to her brother’s engagement party with another woman, he wonders if this time he’s gone too far.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Cameron Allie

Riley put the car in park, looked up at the darkened house, and for the tenth time told herself this wasn’t a bad idea.

She couldn’t believe she’d let Scott pawn off the job of watching his friend’s cat while her brother went away with his girlfriend for the weekend. But Heath was out of town and would never know she’d been sneaking around his house.

Not that she planned to snoop. No. She was just here to give the cat some company.

An argument could be made that because it was the middle of the night she really shouldn’t be there. But Heath was away. He’d never know. So what was the harm?

Hopping from the car, she headed for the front door, her purse in one hand, the spare key in the other. She’d already been to see the cat that morning. She’d spent an hour playing with Sage before feeding her and giving her fresh water. Riley had felt bad leaving the poor thing alone, but it felt weird to be in Heath’s home when he wasn’t there. Hell, it was weird to be in his home at all. He made a point to never invite her over.

On multiple occasions he’d made it clear her interest in him was one-sided. He’d actively avoided her since the dreadful night she’d asked him out. Not that he’d allowed her to get close to him before that.

The porch was dark, so Riley struggled a bit to fit the key in the lock. She looked over her shoulder again. Midnight wasn’t the safest time to be out alone.

It was probably a mistake, but after the disaster of a date she’d just endured, she didn’t relish the idea of going home to her empty apartment. She’d rather curl up on the sofa in Heath’s living room and cuddle with his cat.

It wasn’t like she was going through his sock drawer to see how many condoms he kept stocked in his house. She wasn’t going to sniff his shirts or peek in his closets. She was just doing what her brother had asked. Checking in on Sage.

She pushed open the door, and using the light from the street, set the key on the table by the door. Quietly she shut the door and turned to search for the light switch.

That was when someone grabbed her.

Riley screamed, but it did her no good as she was shoved face-first against the wall. Something cold and hard was pressed against her back. A gun. Aimed right between her shoulder blades.

Her purse fell to the floor.

A gruff voice cut through the darkness. “Don’t move.”

“Oh… okay,” she said on a shaky breath. She pressed her eyelids together and tried not to tremble. Who the hell had broken into Heath’s house? Who was dumb enough to break into a cop’s home?

Quickly, yet thoroughly, his large hand began to roam over her. The gun was still shoved against her skin, as his palm shifted down her side, then slipped beneath the hem of her dress to inspect her thighs, and the space between them.

Confused and scared, Riley swallowed.

She tried not to jerk away from the hand as it frisked her. It was intimate, yet professional. Whoever he was, he was fast and practiced. He knew what he was looking for. He wouldn’t find any weapons on her. She never carried a weapon, and in her little black dress she wouldn’t even know where to hide one.

His hand skimmed along her other side and up to her bust.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” The hand paused on her breast. “Who are you?”

“Please, I…” Slowly his words sank in. Her panicked tone vanished. “Your house? Heath?”

Surprised, he replied, “Riley?”

“Oh, thank God.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? It’s my house! What the hell are you doing breaking into my house? It’s damn near midnight!”

It was after midnight, but she wasn’t about to correct him. “I came to look after Sage. Scott’s out of town and asked me to look in on her.” Riley tried to relax her stance. Her hands were still against the wall and his gun was still pressed against her. His warm palm still cradled her breast. “Can you put the gun away, please?”

The metal was removed. He placed the gun next to where she’d set his house key. “No way did Scott mean for you to come here so late at night. What the hell, Riley? Were you looking to snoop around my place?”

She swallowed. He was pissed. And rightly so. She’d probably scared him half to death, but he’d done the same to her. “I was coming home from a date and thought I’d stop by to check on her.”

“She’s a cat. She’d be fine until morning.”

“Right.” Of course she would be. Riley failed to mention her own need for company, for someone to talk to. No way would she admit to Heath that she was lonely. “You aren’t supposed to be back yet.”

“I came home a day early. I was in bed when I heard the front door open. What was Scott thinking by sending you?”

“Sorry. I’ll go.” Riley tried not to let her hurt show. She could cry when she got home. It wasn’t like she had much else to do. Then a thought occurred to her. Was he alone in bed, or did he have some random girl here? He always seemed to have a different date each time she saw him. “I’ll let you get back to whoever you left in bed.” She couldn’t keep the venom from her tone.

“I was alone in bed.” His hand tightened on her boob. “Naked, alone, and enjoying a nice little dream, until I was woken up by someone sneaking into my house.”

Naked? Wait. “I wasn’t sneaking!” she protested.

He rested his other palm on the wall, next to hers. His chest pressed against her back. In her ear he whispered, “What would you call it, then?”

She didn’t know if they’d ever stood this close before. She gulped. “Your hand is on me.” She wanted to smack herself in the head. Way to play it cool.

“You want me to move it?” He almost sounded excited, turned-on. It gave her hope. Hope she knew better than to have.

She closed her eyes. She could smell his aftershave.

Should she make him remove his hand? Yes.

Did she want him to remove it? No.