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Award-winning science fiction & paranormal romance author

The Alpha’s Demiwolf by Gale Stanley #PNR #werewolves #NewAdult #NewRelease @GaleStanley @changelingpress

The Alpha's Demiwolf (Utopia 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Kya: I’m a demiwolf — half wolf, half human, and both species despise my weird mix of genes. Despite the fact I strip for a living, I’ve hung on to my virginity for twenty-two years. Until I got knocked up by a big, bad wolf. Now, I’m going to bring another demiwolf into the world, but his father will never know.

Levi: I’m all wolf, and Alpha of my pack, committed to keeping our bloodlines pure. Then on the night of my bachelor party, I hooked up with a stripper. I just wanted to teach the demiwolf a lesson, but the sex set me on fire. My wolf claimed her and now I can’t get her out of my head. But what if she won’t accept me?

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or Pre-Order for October 11th at retailers

   

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Gale Stanley

Kya

I cringed when I saw the billboard proclaiming, Girls! Girls! Girls! It was a tacky way to get attention, and I hated it. Averting my eyes, I turned the corner, pulled into the lot, and parked my old pickup behind the club. It was my first night at Show ’n Tails, and a definite step down from my old job, but I’d been fired and needed a gig ASAP.

The incident wasn’t my fault. There were two of us on the stage and Brandi was so sloshed she invaded my space and fell on her ass. As if that wasn’t enough, she accused me of tripping her. Well, one thing led to another and we both got canned. Another girl told me that Show ’n Tails was hiring and I went for an audition. The manager was an asshat, but he doesn’t ask too many questions. I like to keep a low profile.

This isn’t the life I wanted, but taking off my clothes pays the bills, and I won’t apologize for trying to earn a living. At least I’m not selling my body, just the illusion of sex. A lot of girls up their game, but not me. My virginity is the last piece of self-respect I own and I won’t give it up to some creep for any amount of money.

The heavy backdoor slammed shut and locked behind me and the manager shot me a dirty look. “Hey, Kya. You’re late.”

“Sorry, it won’t happen again. And my name is Raven when I’m working.”

Marty’s lip curled in a sneer. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You better get dressed. I mean undressed.” He snickered.

I ignored his disrespectful ass, and walked over to the dressing room. A row of dented lockers lined one wall. A wide counter with a lighted mirror behind it ran the length of the opposite wall. Everything stunk from sweat and cheap perfume. The long vanity was cluttered with makeup and no one made room for the new girl, so I started changing next to my locker. When a spot at the mirror opened up, I grabbed it and started working on my wild black curls.

Marty stuck his head in the door. “Hey, fresh meat, you’re on next.”

I knew he meant me. I was the newest girl there. Half of me cringed, the half that’s wolf. The half I keep hidden. Or is it a quarter of me I keep hidden? I guess it depends on how you look at it. A full-blooded wolf-shifter is already half human, although they’ll never admit to it. My father was a wolf, but my mother was human.

Does that mean I’m… Oh, fuck the fractions. No matter how you look at it, I’m a demiwolf.

But I look human. I checked my body in the mirror. Yep, a hot as hell human female stared back at me. Tacky, but sexy. Nothing says stripper like stiletto platform heels and a thong that shows off a girl’s booty. I slipped on a white, halter mini-dress with a drape-neck, an open back, and a side slit. Then I ran my hands through my curls and gave my lips one last swipe of purple-plum gloss.

It’s so much easier to call myself human and blend in with the majority. The humans are clueless. They know we exist, but they believe we keep to our own side of the tracks. The wolves are a different story. They can smell my lupine pheromones, but they don’t want me. I’m not pure. Fuck ‘em. At least I can make a living among the humans. Stripping might be a trashy job, but it pays for the life I’m trying to live. It’s not the life I want, but it’s all I’ve got. I used to dream about being accepted by my father’s people. Fat chance. They wouldn’t even accept him because he had a human lover and a half-breed kid.

My parents never married, but they lived together — sometimes. When my father was around, I was daddy’s girl. But all too often, he would disappear as if he had no family. My mother would drink and tell me that he liked to hang out with his own kind in places where we weren’t accepted. When he came back from his trips, he’d act cold and resentful, but it wouldn’t last long. Eventually, he’d tell me he loved me and everything would be okay again. I thought nothing would keep us apart for good. I was wrong.

One day he didn’t come back. We found out he was killed in a bar fight. One of his so-called friends called me a mongrel and Dad died defending me. My mother cried and cried. She said this was why they never wanted kids. So I was what… an accident?

I couldn’t blame them. Not really. Life was hard enough without being born with this weird mix of genes. I hated myself, too. I wished I’d never been born. At least I could make things easier for my mother. As soon as I finished school, I left home and never looked back.

While waiting to go on, I thought about my routine — floor work, then pole dancing, then back on the floor. I’m not nervous anymore about being naked in front of a roomful of men. I was at first, but now I focus on my moves. I’ve been scorned and dehumanized all my life, so I like to emphasize something I can do well — dance.

I peeked through the curtain and watched Candy finish her routine. There’s a mirror behind the stage and a pole in the center. Chairs surrounded the stage for customers who wanted direct contact with the dancers. I watched one of the men put a bill in his mouth. Candy shoved her breasts in his face and used them to grab the money. There were hoots and hollers and more men waved bills at her. She collected all of her tips, then picked up her clothes, and ran off the stage.

The DJ, sitting in an alcove nearby, introduced me. “Next up is a beautiful lady who’s new here. You’re gonna see her naked for the first time tonight.”

Well, it’s not a complete lie. It’s my first time naked on this stage.

“Give Raven a nice warm welcome.”

My heartbeat skyrocketed as I stepped through the curtains and climbed the three steps to the stage. The opening bars of my music started up and I began to move.

 

Get more from Gale at Changeling Press …

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

Social Media Links
Website: http://galestanley.net/
Blog: http://galestanley.blogspot.com/

 

Wire (Dixie Reapers MC) by Harley Wylde #MCromance #bikerbooks #Bikers #NewAdult #RomanceBooks #NewRelease @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

HW_DixieReapers13_bryan

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Lavender: My parents weren’t the type to win any awards, but I did learn a few things. Like how to read lines of code and get through the backdoor of pretty much any site or program. I also learned about the man my mother had dated when she’d met my dad, someone who has intrigued me for years. I never thought I’d get the chance to meet him, until my parents end up dead and I can’t think of anyone else who might be able to help. I know too much, know my parents’ deaths weren’t an accident, and now I’ve been targeted. If the infamous Voodoo Tracer can’t help me, then I’m screwed.

Reality is so much better than fantasy, and with one look, I know the reason I haven’t dated is because I was waiting. For him.

Wire: I never really expected my past to come knocking at the front gates, nor did I expect it to be in such a sexy package. Lavender isn’t what I’d call a siren, but with her glasses perched on her nose, her messy hair, curvy figure, and adorable tees, she’s exactly what I want and don’t need. A nerdy, geeky, superintelligent woman who craves me as much as I crave her. So I did what any man would do… I claimed her. Now she’s mine, and if an enemy from my past thinks he can hurt her, I’d like to see him try. He might have killed her parents, but I will destroy anyone who tries to take her from me.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or Pre-Order for October 11th at retailers

   

 

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

Lavender

The infamous hacker, or more accurately cracker, Voodoo Tracer, hadn’t been all that hard to find. My mother had always said if anything happened to her I should track down the guy she’d dated before marrying my dad. I’d heard the story a million times, about how they’d all been friends but she’d fallen for Dad and hurt the guy she’d been dating. He’d left and never returned. Mom had lost track of him, but it hadn’t take much digging for me to find his current location, which told me he wasn’t really hiding. A guy like him didn’t leave a door open unless he wanted someone to use it.

While my mom and dad were hackers and worked for a lot of companies, trying to find the weak spots in their security so the companies could improve them, men like Voodoo Tracer took advantage of those weak spots to get whatever information they wanted. Mom had never approved of Voodoo’s need to crack government and banking sites. From what she’d said, back then, he never took anything vital. He’d mostly done it because he could. I couldn’t say for certain what he’d been up to lately.

I didn’t really walk either path, but tended to dabble a bit in both. Like the infamous Voodoo, I mostly liked to see how far I could get somewhere I shouldn’t be. If I were as nice as my mom and dad, I’d then turn that information over to the companies so they could keep other people out. Then again, they weren’t exactly paying me for my help, so why give it? I wasn’t an angel by any means, but I wasn’t precisely a devil either. I operated in those murky shades of gray.

I’d known how easy it would be for some to trace my phone, or the built-in GPS on my car, so I’d left both behind. The bus hadn’t been the most comfortable option to ride to Alabama, and I’d paid cash so there wouldn’t be a credit card trail, but now that I was here, I had to wonder if I’d made a huge mistake. The walk to the Dixie Reapers compound wasn’t that far, but the place seemed a bit imposing as I approached the gates. I’d walked what felt like miles of fenceline, although that was surely not the case. Razor wire topped it, and I had to wonder just what they were trying to keep out. Or was it more what they wanted to keep in?

The guy standing guard didn’t seem much older than me, and I noticed the way he scanned me from head to toe. I probably wasn’t the type of woman who typically came to this sort of place. My Converse were well-worn, my jeans ripped along my thighs and knees, and I had on my favorite Dark Crystal T-shirt, which had faded over time. I hadn’t thought much about my appearance and had tossed my hair up in a messy bun. With my thick-lensed glasses perched on my nose, I probably looked like I should be in school right now. If it weren’t for my curves, I’d never pass for my real age.

“You must be lost,” the man said, then pointed back behind me. “Town is back that way.”

“I’m not lost.” I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder. “I’m here to see Voodoo Tracer.”

The man stared and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “No one here by that name. So I think you really are lost.”

My brow furrowed. I’d assumed his club would know him by that name. From what little research I’d managed before taking this trip, I’d learned that some clubs preferred to use a road name and kept their real names private. If Voodoo followed that belief, this guy may not know his birth name. It was foolish to think whatever the club called him would be the same name he went by when he was cracking codes.

“Hang on. I have a picture, but it’s really old.” I slid the strap off my shoulder and dug in my backpack. I withdrew the picture of Voodoo with my mom, Seraph, and my dad, Doc Paradox. I’d stared at this picture a lot over the years. I’d found it shoved into a box in the top of Mom’s closet a while back. The ginger-haired young man had drawn my attention. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen or seventeen at the time it was taken, but even back then he’d been more than just cute. I knew he’d be my parents’ age now, but I’d often wished I could meet a guy like him.

Showing the picture to the guy, his eyes went wide.

“Holy shit, is that Wire?” he asked.

“Um. Maybe. I don’t know his club name. I only know his hacker name.”

The man nodded. “That would be Wire, then. I’ll have to call him down here. I’m not letting you in uninvited. You don’t exactly look like the type to party at the clubhouse.”

If that was code for sleep with random men, then no, I wasn’t. Not even a little. I took a step back as he made his call and took the time to check out the place behind the fence. There was a building with Dixie Reapers across the top in neon letters, and a lot of houses down either side of the road. As I strained to get a better look, I thought I saw a playground, but that was ridiculous. What type of biker compound had a playground? The fatigue must be getting to me. It seemed I was now hallucinating.

“He asked who else is in the picture,” the guy said.

“Tell him Seraph and Doc Paradox.” I swallowed hard. “They were my parents.”

He relayed the information, and I hoped that Wire would come and hear me out. If things had really ended as badly as my mom had said, then he might refuse to see me. She’d not gone into a lot of detail, just said she’d picked my dad over Voodoo. Knowing my mother, there was a good chance she’d omitted part of the story. Coming here was a gamble I’d been willing to take. Whatever Mom and Dad had been into, it had gotten them killed. Thanks to me nosing around, I now worried that I might meet the same fate. I didn’t know anything about the man Wire was now, but the kid who had grown up with my parents had been the type to help those in need, even if he hadn’t done it the legal way. I was counting on that still being true.

The rumble of a motorcycle started out faint and then got louder. I saw a rider with copper-colored hair approaching from down the road and as he came to a stop on the other side of the gate, my heart flipped, flopped, then took off at a gallop. Holy hell! Mom had thrown over this guy for my dad? What the hell had she been thinking? He didn’t even remotely look like a hacker. Nor was he the gangly teen from the photo I’d brought. Yeah, he’d been handsome back then, but now? Shit. I was almost certain my panties were getting wet just looking at him. His heather gray tee stretched tight across his broad chest, and the leather cut just added to the sex appeal. The denim hugging his thighs was as worn as mine, with a few well-placed holes, and did nothing to hide how muscular he was, especially for a geeky computer nerd.

Definitely nothing like my dad. I’d loved my father, but time hadn’t been kind to him. He’d had lines around his eyes, and what my mother fondly called his spare tired around the middle, from long days and nights at the computer. This guy didn’t have that problem. Hell, he didn’t even look my parents’ age.

Wire swung a leg over his bike and came closer, removing the sunglasses that had shielded his eyes from me. Green, and so damn pretty. It was a sin for a man to have eyelashes that long and thick. Dammit. My nipples were getting stiff. I swallowed hard, wondering why my body was betraying me. I’d never had a physical response to a guy, even when I thought they were hot. Until now. The beard covering his jaw made my fingers itch to reach out and touch it. Would it be coarse or soft? I’d always had a weak spot for gingers, and he had to be the sexiest one I’d ever seen.

 

Find 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.

Harley’s Website: https://harleywylde.com/

 

Carnivora Part 1 by Lea Bronsen #crime #thriller #NewRelease @LeaBronsen

Hi, and thank you for having me on your blog!

I’ve always been fascinated by dark psychological thrillers that mess with your mind and keep you on the edge of your seat. I toyed with the genre writing my debut novel Wild Hearted, but labeled it a crime drama. Its sequel, Carnivora, evolved over six years to become a full-blown hold-your-breath thriller that deals with grave issues such as kidnapping, child sex trafficking, and self-harm.

Telling five parallel stories with as many voices, it gives you the perspectives of a police informant, a hunted gangster, a mad avenger, an inconsolable girlfriend, and a psychotic kidnapper. I pull no punches weaving these stories, so be prepared for a dark, gritty, and graphic read – a little dirty on the erotic side – that I hope will play with your strings and stick with you for a long time.

Please note that this is part 1 of Carnivora and I am currently working on parts 2 and 3, so if those cliffhangers at the end are killing you, be patient. The continuation is right around the corner!

 

 

Blurb

Fight evil with evil.

TOMOR
Crime lord Tomor is serving a life sentence behind bars. Without warning, he’s abducted by mysterious men. A sick manhunt is on, with people around him dying like flies. He will need all his street flair and gangster skills to prevent his loved ones from ending up on the death list.

LUZ
Luz grieves the loss of her lover while striving to take care of their baby. The last thing she needs is to fall for the new neighbor.

DAVID
A year after he betrayed his adoptive father and sent him to jail, David is slowly rebuilding his life. Then everything falls apart again: he learns that Tomor has escaped, and his police connections lead him to a child sex trafficking ring involving cold, powerful men.

The cops are in over their heads with “Project Carnivora” … Perhaps the only one who can help bust the pedophile predators is an equally vicious devil: Tomor, the country’s most hunted criminal.

Available from

Books2Read / Amazon.com / Amazon.uk / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks / Smashwords

Put the book on your to-read shelf on Goodreads

See photos that inspired me to write the book on Pinterest

 

 

Excerpt

“Time to change your bandage again,” the nurse mutters, voice cool, and pulls my orange-colored sleeve up to the elbow.

She unrolls the long strip of bandage from my wrist and tugs at one corner of the gauze plastered on my wound. It sticks as if glued to the freshly grown skin, and instead of removing the gauze carefully, she tears if off hard, discharging pain through my arm, wrist-to-shoulder.

I open my eyes and lift my head off the pillow. “What the fuck are ya doing, trying to reopen the wound or something?”

“Like you care.” She stops pulling and glares, gauze between her fingers. “I can see who you are inside. You’re playing tough, aren’t you, bad guy? But you can’t fool me.”

“Shut up.” I lay down again, huffing, and stare at the white ceiling above me with its rows of long neon lights.

“You’re a good man.”

I glance back. “I said, shut the fuck up.”

Her eyes shine. She rips off the remaining gauze, ignoring my grunt of pain, and throws it in a bin. “Look.”

No fuck.

“Look at it,” she insists, voice low and demanding.

No. I know what I’ve done, and I can imagine what it looks like. A six centimeter-long deep, reddish, scratched-up ridge along my artery. Layers of skin, fat, meat, and whatnot must be visible and sweating a pinkish liquid from the reborn pores. I don’t need to see it.

I guess the girl wants me to be so horrified, I’ll never attempt suicide again. That’s right. She wants to shock me into acceptance.

You gotta be fucking kidding me, little thing.

She shakes her head. “I don’t understand why they gave you the life sentence.”

“You mean they shoulda given me the chair?”

Instead of responding to my sarcasm, she pivots to look up at the clock and widens her eyes as if realizing she forgot an appointment. Face tense, she returns to her work, applies some cool, gel-like liquid on the wound, and bandages it with quick routine moves.

What’s up with her? In my three days in this woman’s company, I’ve noted the things that make her tick. Maybe she’s upset because I’m leaving the infirmary soon. Earlier, she said she didn’t know when I’d be ready to go back to my cell. She probably knows now, but doesn’t want to tell me.

The door opens. She jumps.

A uniformed guard pokes his head in, checks the small room, and exits.

She seems frozen in place, features tense. Staring ahead and taking deep breaths as if trying to regain composure.

I cock my head a little. “What’s going on? They gonna transfer me?”

She visibly swallows and fixes her gaze on some point on the wall.

I snicker. “Are you sad ‘cause I’m leaving?”

Ha, I can be so ugly, when the girl clearly likes me.

As she sits there avoiding me, I take the time to check out her tits, and drink in the amazing sight of their pressing against her green blouse with each breath. She doesn’t have a name tag. Come to think of it, none of the personnel do. Evidently, so the inmates can’t identify their ‘caretakers’, and should they by some miracle leave the premises, track them down.

I nod to her blouse. “What’s your name?”

She twists back to me, brows raised, before shaking her head. “I can’t tell you that.”

“C’mon, I’ll never see you again.” I grin, then add with an ironic snicker, teasing her, “They’ll never let me slash my wrists, or hang myself.”

She looks away and busies herself collecting the medical stuff, throwing a quick, almost invisible glance to the door. What the hell is making her so nervous?

Coldness fills my chest. Something’s up.

“Come on, Babe,” I coax with my most gentle, sensual voice, wanting to buy time. “Tell me your name.”

“Why?” she whispers, fidgeting with the roll of bandage.

“’Cause I want a name to your pretty face when I jack off in my cell.”

 

About the author

Lea Bronsen likes her reads hot, fast, and edgy, and strives to give her own stories the same intensity. After a deep dive on the unforgiving world of gangsters with her debut novel Wild Hearted, she divides her writing time between romantic suspenses, dark erotic romances, and crime thrillers.

Meet Lea Bronsen on

Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / Goodreads / Amazon / Pinterest

 

 

 

 

The Only Way to Dance by Elodie Parkes @ElodieParkes #RomanceBooks #erotic #newrelease

Sexy Young Couple Passionately Kissing In Elevator

 

Chrissie wins an interview with a prestigious advertising agency. Fate conspires to make the day difficult. The only bright spot is her meeting with gorgeous Dylan Cross, but who is he, and will their steamy attraction to each other prevent her from having the job she covets?

N.B. This story was previously published as part of Executive Assistant, an anthology of erotic romance from Evernight Publishing.

 

Read a teaser

Her heels clacked on the steps up to the office glass doors. They opened automatically as she approached. Chrissie glanced at the clock situated above the reception desk. She had three minutes to get to the fourth floor personnel office. That ruled out taking the stairs, her preferred route. Chrissie hated elevators. She was claustrophobic. The receptionist gave her a badge to clip onto her lapel that proved her verified visitor status. Chrissie swallowed down her fear and went to the elevator doors. She pressed the button. As the doors opened, a man dashed up behind her to join her on the dreaded journey.

Chrissie’s claustrophobia kicked in the second the doors closed. She shifted uneasily from foot to foot. She hadn’t looked at the man who’d entered the elevator with her at the last minute, but now she glanced at him. Chrissie took in the delicious sight to her right. Tall, very dark hair, well cut, well dressed, jacket that fit on his shoulders so that you knew he was muscled. Even in profile, his eyelashes were long, dark fringes, and his angular jaw the stuff of romance novels. Chrissie stared at him. Wow, he’s gorgeous.

The elevator stopped. Chrissie’s stomach dropped a little as the elevator car glided the last few inches and the door slid open. The dishy guy had taken her mind off the confined space. She smiled as she walked down the corridor to the designated office. At the door, she realized the man was still with her. Is he having an interview too? His presence gave her a rapid heartbeat. Shyness flooded her as he leaned around and opened the door. He stood so close she felt his breath on her ear, a gentle tease. Her thighs clenched as he turned his head to speak, his face close to hers. Dark blue eyes held a kind expression. Kissable lips moved.

“Hi, Chrissie Forbes, isn’t it? I’m Dylan Cross. I’m on the interview panel today. Go ahead.”

 

Copyright Elodie Parkes, 2019

 

BUY the book at .99 cents or read for free with Kindle Unlimited

http://mybook.to/TheOnlyWaytoDance

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Find Elodie online:

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https://mewe.com/i/elodieparkes

 

 

SPOTLIGHT: Security (Spaceport series) by Shelby Morgen #99cents #futuristic #PNR #shapeshifters

Spotlight: Security (Spaceport Multi-Author 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

A dark corner of a seedy bar on the edge of nowhere. A woman who’s seen too much. A man who moves through the shadows with the grace of a cat.

She’s on his tail, and he’s determined to find out why. Once he might have been flattered to have her checking out his ass. Now he knows women are dangerous. And far, far too expensive.

But Commander Kala Decoltéir always gets her man, and she wants the space pirate they call Dancer — no matter who — or what — he is. This time, Dancer has no escape.

Publisher’s Note: Spaceport is a multi-author shared universe that does not need to be read in order.

Get it TODAY for $0.99 at Changeling Press!

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2017 Shelby Morgen

“You look like something a drunken Kitali yarfed up.”

Desk Sergeant December Ramie held out a cup of coffee, which, from both color and experience, Kala knew would be exactly the way she liked it. “Thank you for that observation, Sergeant.” The coffee just might allow her to live through the coming interrogation.

“After an all night karaoke spree in Haze.”

Posol na khui.”

“Boss, how long have we worked together?”

“Five years, fourteen days, twelve minutes.”

December shook her head. “Gotta love that computer enhanced memory of yours. Five years, Commander. And in that time, how many days have you taken off?”

“Off?”

“R and R. Shore leave. Vacation. Personal and family leave. Anything.”

“I don’t have a family. Bio-genetically engineered soldier, remember?”

“You may be genetically enhanced, but you’re still Human.”

“I’m a cyborg. I require minimal maintenance from bio-engineering. I never miss my scheduled maintenance.”

“Scheduled maintenance. What are you, a freighter? You may be cybernetically enhanced, but you are not an android. You’re a woman. You’re so busy trying to keep this place from falling apart, you’re killing yourself. Look at you. You’re not sleeping, you’re living on caffeine and junk food, and you look like hell. You need some down time, Commander.”

Kala’s ocular implant went fuzzy, and she thumped the side of her head. “This place is falling apart. Been down to the Pits lately? Try a walk-about on Level 26. Make sure you go heavily armed. The best I can do is to try to keep the galactic refuse from overflowing into the public areas. Between Holly Barbaric stirring up trouble wherever she goes and the Dollavera brothers finding ways to exploit every disaster to their financial benefit, I’m expecting a riot any day now. I don’t have time for R and R, Sergeant. I’m trying to keep our little world from ending.”

“Thompson’s perfectly capable of covering for you for a few days, Commander.” Ramie held out a personal vid panel opened to a full color brochure. “You can afford one day off duty for a trip to a day spa. It won’t even take a day. One shift, even.”

Kala barely glanced at the brochure. “Thompson’s a good man, but he’s Human. There’s a reason the Adana Council recruited me for this office. Allied Planet Security is making it hard for honest businessmen to trade within AP space, let alone the not-so-honest ones. All the fringe planets and ports are getting inundated with displaced riff-raff. We’re getting hit harder than most, because we’re the closest port of call to the major trade routes with Old Earth. Things are going to get far, far worse around here before they get any better. If they ever get any better.”

“So you’re just going to push yourself till you fall apart? What will that accomplish?”

Well, it’ll get me out of here, Kala thought, but she didn’t say so out loud. She cataloged Ramie’s list of complaints, looking for an acceptable solution. “What about sex?”

Ramie nearly choked on her coffee. “What about sex?”

“If I promise to get myself laid, will that get you off my back?”

Ramie grinned, cat-like triumph stealing over her face. “I’m not sure sex qualifies as R and R, but it’s a compromise I can live with.”

Belatedly, Kala realized she’d been played. She sighed. She had four times normal Human strength, could calculate any math problem at the speed of a Human computer, and her bio-tech system implant allowed her body to repair itself from otherwise deadly wounds in battle, and yet she’d just been outmaneuvered by a single Human female. Again. “Fine. I’ll set about capturing a suitable male.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing Ramie’s eyes open wide in alarm. “Capturing? Commander, maybe we need to talk about Human mating rituals…”

It was Kala’s turn to grin. “Trust me. I know all I need to know about mating rituals. It’s been a while, but my memory’s good.” She downed her coffee and headed out for rounds, wondering how long it would take Ramie to figure out she’d been kidding.

Mostly…

 

Find more from Shelby at Changeling Press …

Shelby Morgen loves writing offbeat tales that defy as many rules as possible.

She likes chocolate with her peanut butter, suspense with her romance, and kink with her sex, and she’s always had a hard time keeping science fiction, fantasy and paranormal from mixing with her kink.

Shelby shares her belief in electronic publishing with her longtime friend and partner, Bill, her husband of nearly four decades.

 

 

Big, Blooming, & Wild by Isabella Jordan, Michelle Hasker, and Tuesday Morrigan #BDSM #BBW #PNR #scifi #interraciallove #boxset #RomanceBooks

Big, Blooming & Wild! (Big, Blooming & Wild! Multi-Author 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

These trees have been waiting all their lives to find their women!

Suffering Sassafras by Michelle Hasker: When Gayle settles into her new home in the mountains in North Pennsylvania she meets two of the sexiest men she’s ever seen. These two have a sex appeal she can’t resist — until she stumbles upon them making love in their backyard.

Tied & Tempting by Tuesday Morrigan: Yahara does not do nature. As far as she is concerned, Central Park is all the green the world needs. Kauri does not like humans. They care nothing about the world that is their home. But he must mate. And with a human. Once he catches sight of the tall, dark-skinned full-figured woman that is Yahara, he decides humans aren’t so bad.

Two Fine for Pine by Isabella Jordan: Botans Charles and Christopher have found a wonderful home in Cana, Virginia. When Vanessa Arnault hits town, the twins know their woman has finally arrived — big, beautiful, and exotic. There’s just one problem. She has an idea for a signature line of puppy palaces and kitty condos for her affluent friends back in NY and Paris. Charles and Christopher must win her heart, and claim her as their mate, or risk being cut down and used to make a miniature Taj Mahal for her pet poodle Pierre.

Mulberrilicious by Michelle Hasker: Trisha lost her job due to the economy and her fiancé to a skinny chick. Now she’s moved to Missouri to be with her sister, where  she runs into the two handsome hunks who own a neighboring property. Both want her, and neither cares that she’s a BBW. What she doesn’t know is that they’re not what they seem to be. Oh, and they’re already lovers!

 

Get it NOW at Changeling Press

or preorder for October 4th at retailers

   

 

 

 

Born a Halfling by M.D. Stewart #bisexual #pansexual #gendernonconforming #PNR #LGBTbooks #DragQueen #RomanceBooks

Born a Halfling (Paranormal B&B 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Michael: After a troubled childhood and becoming a Marine, I returned from war injured and alone. I found myself again when I discovered Drag. I love being a Queen almost as much as I love the boy I’ve dreamed of since I was a child. Now he needs my help and I’ll fight hell itself to save him.

Te’Garth: My mother is a demon, my dad is an angel, and their love is legendary. I hope to have that kind of passion with Michael, a man I’ve shared dreams with since childhood. But first I need to reverse a forced mating claim, or death will take me from my true love.

Jessie: I met Michael in Afghanistan, and helped the injured Marine heal in body and soul. Together we explored our forbidden desires until he was sent home months later. We lost contact, only to meet again at Chasers, a gay bar, where he’s a Drag Queen and I provide security. I still want him — and the man he’s in love with. But something dangerous is hunting Garth. If I want to save them both, I must overcome my fears. Even if it means risking more than my life…

 

Get it NOW at Changeling Press

or preorder for October 4th at retailers

   

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 M.D. Stewart

Michael

I rolled over and hit the alarm. I usually worked until almost dawn and slept until the afternoon, but my boss had wanted me to come in early to help interview some new talent. I’d get today off with pay. I usually didn’t mind, but today I felt so drained I could hardly move. I knew it was from the reoccurring nightmares I’d had last night.

I hated gory horror movies, having lived my own horrors in Afghanistan. But dreaming of huge green-skinned men chasing me? In my nightmare, I could never outrun them and I could never find anywhere to hide. It brought up so many memories of the helplessness and constant fear of combat, and I didn’t want to go there. But last night, the dream had played in a loop every time I’d close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

No more Sushi before bed.

I made a note to call my therapist and get back on the sleeping pills that helped suppress my dreams. I used to enjoy my dreams, when I believed that my Halfling lover was real. I didn’t like where my thoughts were heading, so I dragged myself out of bed.

I stumbled to the bathroom to take a leak and brush my teeth. As I washed my hands, I looked in the mirror. I was dead tired and glad I didn’t have to go to deal with makeup before leaving the house. Fuck it, I didn’t think I’d even shave. I grabbed the tube of hemorrhoid cream and slathered some under my eyes to reduce those dark bags of fatigue.

I brushed my long blond hair, grabbed an elastic band and put it in a sloppy man bun. Strolling into the kitchen, I scratched my stomach and yawned. Thank God for automatic coffee makers: my life-saving brew was waiting for me. I grabbed a mug, filled it and didn’t even wait for it to cool before I took my first sip.

My phone rang, and I spent a few minutes looking for it. I was so tired and pissy, my silk robe got in my way, so I ripped it trying to pull it off. I’d be really fucking mad about it later after the caffeine worked its magic. By the time I grabbed the phone from the floor, I had missed the call. Fuck. I’d call them back after I drank my first cup, maybe even my second. I didn’t have to wait, though, as it rang again. I hit the screen.

“What?” I growled, but it was early. Especially for me. “I’m not done with my first cup of coffee.”

“It’s after ten, so it’s not early. Asshole.” My friend Conner’s voice did little to help my mood.

“Just because I like to fuck assholes doesn’t make me one. Get that straight, dipshit.”

I heard him laugh. “You’re the one who told me to call and make sure you were up. I’ve been up and at work for almost three hours. Motherfucker.”

Our habit of name-calling actually made me want to smile. “I’ll fuck anyone but your mother. Twatwaffle.” I was just full of jokes today.

“God, I hate waking you up. You’re so sarcastic. Has anyone ever told you you’re a bitch?” Conner was laughing, but I could tell he meant it.

“Only every fucking day. That’s why I’m single. No one can put up with me. In the Marines, I had to get up at five in the morning. I don’t have to do that shit anymore, and I like my sleep. Fucking sue me.” I yawned and gulped my coffee.

“Fine. Well, your grumpy ass is up, and I need to get back to work. Stories don’t write themselves. Fuckface.” Conner was the best journalist I’d ever met. He’d started at the Charlotte Observer as an intern in high school and got a job as a reporter his senior year in college.

Conner and I met several years ago when he came to Chasers to interview the staff about our project for Pride. Chasers Charlotte NoDa focused on different community projects annually. Conner’s story made the front page of the Observer’s Lifestyle section. His piece won several journalism awards, including the national Human Interest Writing Ernie Pyle Award.

Conner and I hit it off from the moment we met since he seemed to like my snarky attitude. He was straight, but I didn’t hold that against him, or so I tell him every chance I get.

Unfortunately, this morning, he didn’t appreciate my Herculean effort to not reach through the phone and strangle him. “Whatever, ConMan.” I used my term of affection so he’d know I wasn’t really angry with him. “Have a good day at work. And I have it on good authority that I have a great ass, not that you’ll ever know.” I hit the red button to hang up and dropped the phone on the couch. Draining my mug, I made my way to the coffee pot for another shot of caffeine. I trudged back to the couch and thought about setting the alarm to sleep another fifteen minutes when my phone rang again.

“Son of a bitch.” I grabbed the phone and didn’t even look at the screen before I answered. “Conner, you needle dick, stop calling me. I will kick your ass. You and I both know I can and will do it.”

“I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number.” The female voice in my ear had me cringing.

“Aw, fu… uh, I mean, I’m sorry ma’am. I thought you were a friend of mine.” I sighed as I gulped more coffee.

“Oh, wow. Sounds like a heck of a friendship.” I could hear the amusement in her voice. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I thought I called the phone number someone gave me to get personal security. I may have transposed some numbers.”

“Yeah, that must be it. I’ve never done personal security before. I mean, I could if I weren’t working till four in the morning.” I yawned and stretched again.

“I must have woken you. No wonder you’re upset. I’ll let you go. And I’m so sorry for bothering you.”

“No ma’am, no bother. Have a good day.” I ended the call and decided I had time to drag my happy ass to the shower, even if I wasn’t going to shave. If people didn’t like looking at my morning scruff, fuck ‘em.

The shower did little to improve my mood, but at least I felt more awake. Mostly. I grabbed my large to-go mug and drained the coffee carafe into the spill-free mug and headed out the door.

Grumpy as I was, I loved my house. In San Fran, I’d had a condo in a big sub-division, but here, I could afford a nice home in a nice neighborhood. Nothing fancy, but much nicer than where I grew up.

I looked around at the well-manicured lawns of the houses on my street. I stopped, listening to the children playing in the yards. I never really paid attention to the kids before, since I’d leave for work around eight at night. The bar itself opens at nine and closes at two-thirty, but I always stayed late and made sure the guests made it to their cars safely. I always had to unwind with cheesy ‘80s movies too.

Thus, my early morning bedtime — and why ten a.m. was such an ungodly hour for me to be awake.

As I pulled into Chaser’s parking lot, I was trying to suck the last few drops of coffee from the damn too-small mug. It had to be empty, because, trust me, I can suck the last drops out of anything. Foxy had better have a pot brewed and waiting, or there’d be hell to pay.

Carl Fox might be the manager of the bar and my boss, but I could still kick his ass.
I slammed my car door before making it to the back entrance and stopped by the employee lounge.

“Damn, you look like a hot mess.” Foxy’s voice sounded behind me. His amusement didn’t help my mood.

“Fuck you, Foxy. I’ve only had a few hours of sleep. But your life is spared, since I see the coffee is made.” I poured half the pot into my to-go mug and turned to face my boss.

“You’re a surly, bitter man in the mornings.” He filled his own mug and sipped it and grimaced before he turned his attention back to me.

“It’s a good thing I work nights then, isn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes at my comment and moved in for a hug. I slid my free hand around his shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze before releasing him and gulping down a few more sips of caffeine.

“God, Foxy, you never get better at making this shit. It’s not so hard.” I shook my head but took another drink. “So, how many performers do we have scheduled today?”

“We have a few queens coming in. I have about ten go-go boys scheduled, too, but they’re all dancing at the same time. Then Manny is going to teach them a short routine and see who can pull the moves.” He looked down at his tablet. “I have a part-time bartender scheduled around two and a few bouncers and security guys who will be talking with Dan.”

I was happy to hear about the extra security; maybe I’d get home an hour earlier.
Dan was a mountain of a man who was head of security. He’d been with Chasers from the beginning. The business was starting to gain more ground, and we needed more security to protect the drag performers and go-go boys, and even make sure the clientele got to their cars safely.

I was surprised we’d gained so much new business, especially in a conservative small town in the south. But I was happy too. It showed progress, no matter the current upswing in hate rhetoric.

“Okay, who’s first and when are we going to start?” I chugged from my coffee mug and tried to hide my yawn.

Foxy chuckled and started another pot of coffee. I groaned, wishing I’d thought to do it before he did. My coffee was so much better.

“First appointment in about twenty minutes. Finish your brew. I don’t want you to scare these poor guys before we even get them to sign their contracts.”

 

More from M.D. at Changeling Press…

My vivid imagination combined with my love of reading and sci-fi. As a kid, I spent hours writing stories and poems while listening to my large collection of vinyl record albums.

My goal as an author is to tell stories that help others find enjoyment, or to escape life for a little while. I want the characters in my head to become as real to the reader as they are to me, and I hope they find another heart to settle into. I also want to interact with the people who read my books, because you never know where your next friend will come from.

You can find M.D. at the listed links, and you can also check out her Pinterest.

You can contact M.D. by clicking this link.

Website: https://www.amazon.com/author/mdstewart

Blog: http://www.mdstew.art.blog