Eight tales of Christmas Magic from your favorite Changeling authors!
Dawg-Napped! by Anne Kane: Comet’s decided the cute little prairie dawg Cyndi is just what Bruce needs to cuddle up with him in his North Pole cottage.
Stray Urges by Lacey Savage: Memories made between the sheets, under the mistletoe and beneath the hard body of a devoted mate can never truly be forgotten.
An Orgasm for Christmas by Marteeka Karland: Rose knows exactly what she wants for Christmas — the biggest screaming orgasm the Magical Forest has ever seen!
Bound for Christmas by Sean Michael: Luke has been lusting over Jenny and Greg and he’s more than willing to let her wrap him up as the best Christmas present ever.
Just Wink by Bryl R. Tyne: How hard could donning a Christmassy green Speedo and pretending for thirty seconds to savor a giant candy cane be, anyway?
Christmas in the Zone by Isabella Jordan: Two guys, two gals, and an aphrodisiac under the tree. Can Rick keep up until Maddox and Madeline find an antidote?
Make the Yuletide Gay by Lena Austin: Beware the cowboy bearing gifts — who may make Dr. Gary Lord’s Yuletide much gayer than he’d planned.
Tails N Scales by Tuesday Richards: What is a prairie dawg to do when a family of gator shifters asks him to dinner?
Work and pregnancy are driving Sonya crazy. Her mate’s concern about her well-being isn’t helping because that concern takes the form of overprotectiveness. But when Sonya is kidnapped, she finds strength in herself and her mating bond that she never knew existed.
Maxine stared at her mate. Sonya was lovely, of course, with her cocoa dark skin and cap of short, kinky, beautifully natural hair. Her skin was two or three shades lighter than Maxine’s and her eyes were a breathtaking honey brown. She was even more attractive today because her gaze shone out with triumph.
But how could she feel that way? The LGBTQ psychic werewolves were being discriminated against. Just like always. And this time, it was their own leader who was doing it. And Sonya might be human, not a werewolf like Maxine, but didn’t she understand the plight of her pack family? Her eros, meaning LGBTQ, pack family?
“Tilthos Charles is giving the basilisks permission to overlook us,” she said slowly and rather more loudly than she meant to. “Sonya, don’t you understand that? He’s saying, ‘sure, ignore and belittle a subsection of my people. That’s just fine.’ And you’re sitting there… smiling!”
Sonya’s grin became a smirk. “It sounds like you’re gainsaying the alpha above all alphas.”
Maxine started to speak. “Okay,” she said carefully, “that is what it sounded like. But he’s not here to listen in and…” She shook her head, her braids thumping gently against her shoulders. “What I really don’t get is why you’re happy about it.”
“Because, quite frankly, my dear, it won’t last. The basilisks want to shoot themselves in the foot by not including the most willing participants in their little genetic experiment? When all the packs in North America were polled, it was the eros packs who responded most positively to giving their DNA. All werewolves should respond favorably because learning about basilisk reproduction could conceivably help werewolves carry pups more easily. But if the straight wolves are reluctant because of tradition or secrets or secret traditions? And if the basilisks only want straight DNA?” She laughed. “Let them fuck themselves over.”
Now Maxine saw the joke and she chuckled. Then she asked her beloved, “Will you make love to me?”
Sonya’s eyes widened playfully and her humor was replaced with a devilish look. “How fast can you get undressed?”
It actually took a few minutes because as Maxine removed each article of clothing, shoes and socks, jeans shorts, bikini panties, and skintight T-shirt, Sonya wanted to stroke the newly exposed skin.
Maxine paused dramatically before taking off her bra and fake boobs. Maxine was a transgender wolf, a male to female that would have been called a transwoman if she’d been human. She thought of herself as female, even at the times when her cock ruled her head, because she was not a guy no matter how she’d been born. She’d figured out her transgender self when her name was Maximillian and that little kid had been seven. This had been a good century before the word “transgender” was even in use.
They were at a pause, with Maxine’s fake boobs on the nightstand. Maxine tried to push past the memories, but Sonya had already seen something was up. She’d stopped her striptease and was patting the bed next to her, inviting Maxine to sit.
Feeling foolish, she sat. “I’m sorry. I just… drifted.”
“Tell me?” Sonya offered softly. And she took Maxine’s hands.
Maxine looked down at the beauty of their two skin tones. It was sort of like looking at a wood carving. Somehow majestic even as it was soothing. Also, this time with Sonya was undeniably theirs, something no one could take away.
“I don’t want to waste –” she began.
“Hush. Time with you is never wasted.”
Maxine eased beneath that gentle murmur. “I don’t usually give a shit about my penis and balls,” she said. “And I don’t really now, except that they made you pregnant.”
Sonya waited.
That was one of the things Maxine loved about her. Leaning forward, she kissed her mate, slipping her tongue into Sonya’s warm and welcoming mouth. When she had the strength to go on, she sat back. “I don’t regret our coming pups. Never think it. But I’m feeling sort of guilty for the sperm that took over your body.”
Sonya grinned but she sounded absolutely serious when she said, “I love you for saying so, Maxine. You’re such a woman when you say things like that.” She did laugh then. “And here I thought I wasn’t a lesbian.” She rested a hand on Maxine’s thigh and then ran one finger up the half erect shaft between Maxine’s legs.
Maxine shuddered with pleasure.
“I’m so lucky to have a trans wolf with a female’s heart, a male’s parts, and a warrior’s spirit in my bed. Don’t regret what I’m glad happened.” She colored a little, and then she stood. “Now, will you let me finish stripping for my mate? She’s made me wet and I want to lose my underwear.”
SueAnn has always been terrified of parties and other gatherings with lots of strangers. So, when she’s mysteriously whooshed away into the middle of her favorite computer game, SexScape, she’s more than alarmed to discover she’s landed in the middle of an ongoing party. And there’s a lion! And there’s also a man who treats her to sex better than she ever thought possible.
Cornelius feels SueAnn can be the right mate for him. Unfortunately, SueAnn’s pet cat turns out to be a shapeshifter who is not about to give up her hold on her beloved owner. Can a lion beat out a house cat to win the heart of a human woman?
Victory lay within her grasp. One more move, and SueAnn would conquer level 1023 in her favorite game, SexScape. She’d battled this one for days, and now she could savor success. After all, SexScape was the closest thing she ever got to sex, so she might as well enjoy it as late into the night as she wanted. She’d nod off all day at her desk tomorrow, no doubt, but boredom accomplished that easily enough without lack of sleep.
She’d just raised her hand to finish off the level, her finger poised over the last three red tiles she needed to win, when about ten pounds of fur landed with a plaintive meow right next to her hand. She quickly grabbed her cat into her arms.
“Not now, Kitty. I’m winning. Don’t screw it up.”
Kitty had obviously done something right because the game board lit up telling her she’d conquered level 1023, despite her pet’s interference. She let out a whoop of victory. She’d have to figure out a way to celebrate. A glass of wine with dinner tomorrow, maybe. The expensive cat food from the tiny cans for Kitty.
Before she could make up her mind on all that, the room started spinning, the walls melting in on themselves. All the air seemed to whoosh out of the room, even though SueAnn could still breathe. Then, she found herself falling into a lightless tunnel. She held on tight to where her cat had been. “Kitty, are you there?”
The answer came in the form of a hiss and the prick of twenty sharp claws into her arms and chest. Yeah, Kitty was still with her, wherever they’d gotten themselves. Was this part of SexScape? Some kind of sensory deprivation, whirling ride? SexScape didn’t deprive your senses. It enhanced them, according to its advertising. At least, she was still breathing, and she had her cat.
After a bit, a spot of light appeared ahead, and her body took on a sense of direction — toward the light. As the brightness expanded, colors started to take shape. Figures appeared. People in costumes, many with drinks in their hands, dancing to raunchy music. Some dream version of a party. And then she ended up dumped on her bottom in the middle of it, now holding Kitty in her lap.
Hands reached down and hauled her to her feet.
“Hey, look,” a woman’s voice said. “A new arrival.”
Suddenly, they were all standing around her, staring at her, and she was only wearing her pajamas, having gotten ready for bed just before the game had picked her up and sent her here. She never went to parties. In fact, she avoided crowds whenever possible, even visiting the supermarket at odd hours. And she’d never allow herself to be seen by strangers improperly dressed. She clutched Kitty to her chest as if the cat could protect her from all of them.
They didn’t appear aggressive or meaning to threaten her. They smiled at her in welcome, but that didn’t keep her heart from pounding and her throat from going dry.
“Neat costume,” a young man dressed as a pirate said. “Is the cat part of it?”
“Let me guess.” Another man — this one in surgeon’s scrubs — stroked his chin as he studied her. “The cat is a companion animal.”
“Sure, she’s my pet.”
“It needs a drink.” The first man turned around and grabbed a glass from someone behind him. He held it out to her. “Here you go.”
“Kitty doesn’t drink,” she said. “If someone can point me to the way out of here, I’ll leave you all to have your party.”
“You need a drink, then,” the “doctor” said.
“I don’t drink. Honestly.” When he shoved the glass toward her, she took it, but she would have had to release Kitty to drink, and that wasn’t happening.
“We’ll fix that, won’t we, gang?” He turned around to face the others. “What do you say?”
“Drink, drink, drink,” a chant went up. There had to be at least twenty people here, and they all wanted her to drink. Only sheer terror kept her from total humiliation. The music continued, and several partygoers hefted their own glasses. An introvert’s definition of pure hell — being the center of attention of a bunch of strangers while dressed inappropriately for a serious session of eat, drink, and be merry. What had she done to deserve this?
Then, a roar filled the room. Not the roar of a crowd, but a real one. Everything stopped, even the music, and the partygoers parted to make way for… oh, Dear Lord… an honest-to-goodness lion headed right toward her. A male with a full mane. A magnificent beast, but also capable of tearing her apart as if she were made of paper. He roared again, rearing his enormous head back and exposing his teeth.
“It’s Cornelius,” someone shouted.
“The Party Animal,” someone else said. “Now, we can really get going.”
Eight tales of Christmas Magic from your favorite Changeling authors!
Fire and Ice by Lacey Savage: When Elle’s best friend asks for a favor on Christmas Eve,she learns there’s more than frozen yogurt in the walk-in freezer.
Frost Bite by Tuesday Morrigan: The Fates give Julian three days with Jacklyn. Three days to change the course of history.
Sophie’s Present by Anne Kane: Dandy knows just what to do to make Sophie’s Christmas the merriest ever.
Summoning by Leila Brown: Johnathan’s crazy college roommate sends him a Christmas present with a set of instructions…
Suspicious Surprises by Camille Anthony: Only true love will guide two lovers through this Christmas minefield of suspicious surprises.
His Guardian Angel by Kate Hill: Angel is the only one who can tame Gannon’s beast, giving him the greatest Christmas gift of his life.
Satisfaction Guaranteed by Kira Stone: Ambrose, a Changeling, is eager to help Thomas with his quality control problem…
Haulin’ Hawg by Lena Austin: BD has plans that involve bungee cords and a motorcycle to prove his love.
“This is a story that is different and unique. Readers and fans of Lacey Savage will recognize her flair for the erotic. This is a hot, hot story and is sure to melt the panties off the reader. But, Ms. Savage also has the knack of telling a good story that captivates with twists and turns and surprises.”
Five Hearts! — Valerie, Love Romances
Praise for Frost Bite
“This is a wonderful story of love reclaimed, and new beginnings. There is a happy ever after that these two really deserve, and a surprising new beginning for them as well. The heat level in this one is off the charts, and is the perfect warm up for a cold night.”
— Holly, Whipped Cream Reviews
Praise for Sophie’s Present
“Anne Kane definitely reinforces the holiday spirit with this little gem of a story and reinforces the idea that while being good is its own reward, being naughty can also be very titillating.”
4.5 Blue Ribbons! — Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies
Nine tales of Christmas Magic from your favorite Changeling authors…
Holly’s Jolly Christmas by Ciarra Sims: Dear Santa, I need a man. Not a rich one or a perfect lover, just a kind, caring, maybe funny and decent looking guy…
Christmas Cookie by Elizabeth Jewell: Everybody has their Christmas traditions — even vampires.
Happy Howlidays by Isabella Jordan: The moon is full this Christmas Eve and the two handsome hunks have some business with Sarah that they mean to finish.
Elves Gone Wild by Lacey Savage: The candy-cane wrapping paper on her sister’s gift reveals the sexiest naked man Grace has ever laid eyes on…
The Gift by Lia Connor: When Rob gets a job at a swanky Christmas celebration, he’s all about the money — that is, until he meets Shika.
Sideways Glance by Camille Anthony: A heated sideways glance from a handsome suntanned hunk sparks a desire in Cheryl to celebrate life.
Yule Wolf by Kate Hill: On a dark, cold Yuletide Eve Fenris offers Roth the most priceless holiday gift imaginable.
Karmic Gifts by Kira Stone: Fate has a karmic gift in store for Pax… if she’s brave enough to accept it.
Snowman by Willa Okati: Josh is holding out hope for a miracle, that there will be a man perfect for him, one who loves him with all his heart.
Sarah Rushe stared through the heavy blitz of snowflakes on the other side of her windshield at the sign saying the road to her family’s cabin at Lake Nippissing was closed.
It’s only five miles away!
Sarah knew she shouldn’t have allowed her mother to talk her into coming up to Canada for Christmas. Being alone with her fat, worthless cat and her movie collection wasn’t a bad thing. She could be watching movies on her couch with some ice cream right now.
Oh, no. She’d bought into the whole fun family get-together idea, traveling hours by plane up to Buffalo, New York. The last three hours she’d spent in a rental car, driving through one of the worst snowstorms she’d ever seen. And now she finds out she can’t reach her intended destination?
Shit!
Had any of her family made it then? If so, where were they?
For that matter, what the hell was she going to do now?
The left headlight of her rental car had been flickering for the last hour and as Sarah watched, it faded and stayed out this time.
Well, now she was screwed. She didn’t have enough light to see in the heavy snow and darkness. It was very late, the road to the cabin was closed, and it was pretty fricking cold.
No, wait. Had the headlight come back on? It was brighter now. Much brighter.
Crap. It wasn’t her headlight. Someone was coming up behind her.
Sarah had come to a stop in the road to read the closed road sign. She didn’t have long to worry that whoever was back there would plow into the back of her car. Before she could think about putting her car back into drive, a man got out of the vehicle behind her. Sarah rolled down the car’s iced up window and turned her head around to watch his large shadow approach her car.
The first thing she saw was the emblem on his heavy winter coat. Coolness! A park ranger. This guy could help her.
When he bent down so she could see his handsome face her enthusiasm faded. Devin Parke’s dark eyes locked with hers.
Well, this trip was getting better and better. Shit. Of all the damned people to run into. Sarah hadn’t seen Devin since that summer five years ago after she’d graduated from college…
“Hello, Sarah.” Even with the winter wind howling around him, his deep voice washed over her like a blast of heat. “Having some trouble?”
“Don’t be cute.” Sarah didn’t care for the way half his mouth curved smugly up. “I’m supposed to meet my family at the cabin.”
“That road is closed. This one will be soon and you can’t drive in these conditions with just one headlight in a front wheel drive.”
“I can if I follow you. Surely there’s somewhere I can stay to ride this thing out.”
Oh, she didn’t like the devilish turn his expression took. Not at all.
“There sure is but we’re leaving this car here. Even if you managed to get turned around you wouldn’t get far. I almost got stuck back there.”
Ride with him? After what had almost happened between them five years ago? Right. “Thanks but I’ll take my chances. I’m not going to just leave my car here.”
“Why? It’s not going anywhere.” Devin blew out an exhale. “I’m freezing my ass off out here. Shut off the car. I’ll get your bags.”
“Not going to give me a choice in this are you?” Sarah didn’t hide her sarcasm as she shut off the engine and began groping in the faint light from his headlights for her gloves and purse.
You don’t want him to give you a choice either. Who was she kidding? Sarah had wanted Devin Parke for many years now. He was the real reason her mother had gotten her off her ass and up to Canada — the chance she might see him again.
“Do you happen to remember what I told you the last time we were together, Sarah?”
How could she forget?
Yeah, she’d been drunk and she really had led him on that night. Sarah hadn’t meant to be a cock tease. She’d known Devin since she was a child and as she grew older, she came to realize that he was hot as hell. Devin was a man with a lot beneath the surface and that always made her a little nervous. It probably would have been the fuck of her life that night but she’d chickened out at the last minute.
And she’d always wondered since that night what sex with him would have been like.
“I told you that one day I’d have an opportunity to return the favor for that night.” Devin’s grin took on a distinctive predatory quality. “The moon is full. It’s Christmas Eve. Looks like a very Merry Christmas to me.”
He was fucking with her. Yeah, maybe she deserved that much. Yet he was on duty. He couldn’t be serious.
“Yeah, okay, Merry Christmas,” Sarah told him before grabbing her purse and climbing carefully out of her car.
Ten unforgettable Erotic Tales to warm your nights and keep you in holiday spirits all year long!
Angela Knight – A Vampire Christmas
Sahara Kelly – A Christmas Pageant
Judy Mays – Jingle Balls
Marteeka Karland – Sealed With A Kiss
Kate Douglas – My Valentine
Shelby Morgen – Changeling
Willa Okati – Elven Enchantment
Kate Hill – Jolene’s Pooka
Lacey Savage – Chemistry to Burn
Shelby Morgen – Troll Under The Bridge
Filled with the unexpected, A Changeling For All Seasons offers something to savor for every palate. From humorous to magical, from Christmas to St. Patrick’s Day to the 4th of July, these stories are alight with unbridled lust, sensuous passion, and hot, hot sex, guaranteed to entangle your senses and leave you breathless.
Amelia Patton clattered up the beige stairs of the apartment complex, the plastic dress bag hooked over one shoulder. It had been a long shift at the hospital, but the prospect of showing David her purchase had put a bounce back in her step. The gown was every little girl’s fairytale dream — seed pearls, white lace, and yards and yards of satin skirt, with a train that would reach halfway down the church aisle. The lace veil alone had her inner eight-year-old sighing in bliss.
Clutching her precious dress with one hand, she juggled the keys until she found the right one and inserted it into the lock. The door swung open, revealing the living room that had made real strides in livability over the past two months. When she’d first moved in, David’s furniture had consisted of a couch he’d bought at Goodwill and a really tacky table made from a cable spool. The big screen television and entertainment center were worth more than all the rest of the furniture in the apartment. God love the man, he was too butch for taste.
Amelia had coaxed him into replacing the castoffs with a lovely cream living room set, colorful pastel sketches, and a pretty floor lamp with a stained glass shade. She made good money as a nurse, she argued. They could afford it.
“Honey, I’m home!” God, she loved saying that.
No answer. She frowned. It was well after midnight; David would be home from his shift with the Atlanta Police. Unless something had happened… A frisson of fear slid up her spine, but she forced it away. “Hey, Dave! I went by the mall on my dinner break and picked up that gown I told you about. Wait ’til you see it…”
The bedsprings creaked from the next room. “Amelia.” His voice sounded hoarse.
“Hey, babe, you okay? Did you get into another fight?” That was how they’d met. David had come by the ER after a drug dealer resisted arrest with a little too much enthusiasm. She’d been smearing antibiotic cream across those sculpted ribs when he’d asked her to dinner. Amelia had looked into those crystalline blue eyes, and fallen helplessly in lust. She hadn’t been able to say no to him since.
A year later, she still lusted for him — but she’d also come to know and love his wicked sense of humor, strong character, and clever mind.
“Come here.” David normally reserved that cold, demanding tone for the prisoners he brought to the hospital after they’d tried to bust his head. He’d never before used it with her.
“David, what’s wrong?” Worried, Amelia hurried into the bedroom, the dress slung over her shoulder.
They’d bought the massive iron bedstead in an antique store when she’d moved in with him. David had teased her that its tall, ornate posts were perfect for bondage.
She’d still never expected to find him naked and shackled spread-eagle to it like a beefcake buffet.
Praise for The Vampire Christmas“Angela Knight’s The Vampire Christmas is an exceptional book. I could not put it down.”
— Tewanda, Fallen Angel Reviews
Praise for A Christmas Pageant
“Ms. Kelly is a very talented author who has written a heart-warming story of two lonely individuals finding love during the holiday season. Most definitely a keeper!”
— Susan White, Coffee Time Romance
Praise for Jingle Balls
“[Judy Mays’s] witty dialogue will have you laughing out loud.”
— Tewanda, Fallen Angel Reviews
Praise for Sealed With a Kiss
“Sealed with a Kiss is a great story with humor, conflict and hot sex. I hope Marteeka Karland revisits Marie and Daxon in a future book.”
— Coffee Time Romance
Praise for My Valentine
“Easily the most emotional, beautiful and unforgettable novella I’ve read this year, My Valentine is simply breathtaking.”
— Ayden Delacroix, In the Library Review
Praise for Changeling
“The reader will fall in love with Michael and Arien, who is a delight. Destined to be a St. Patrick’s Day classic.”
— Candy, Coffee Time Romance
Praise for Elven Enchantment
“This book enthralled me from beginning to end and I loved it.”
— Sheryl, Coffee Time Romance
Praise for Jolene’s Pooka
“There is enough unbridled passion between the sheets of this book to leave you breathless.”
— Janean Sparks, Romance Junkies
Praise for Chemistry to Burn
“This short story absolutely rocks!”
— Francesca Hayne, Just Erotic Romance Reviews
Praise for Troll Under The Bridge
“A thoroughly engaging tale full of humor and the unexpected…an erotic fairy tale sure to please.”
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Regan Finley’s photography makes the local music scene shine. He’s four months from his final exhibition and graduation. But instead of preparing for the party, he’s fretting about his exhibition theme — bondage and passion. There’s one person he wants to make his exhibition come to life, if he can convince his housemate to participate.
Camryn Tate plays the music that makes the young girls scream. He likes being a local rock hero. When he finds out what Regan wants for the exhibition, Cam has to make a decision. He can let Regan have his commanding way and get the pictures he needs for the exhibition, or he can walk away from the best roommate and friend he’s ever known… all because of a little ball of nylon rope.
“Have you come up with a theme for your final project?”
Regan jerked his attention to the sound of Camryn’s voice. “Excuse me?” They’d been housemates for almost six months and known each other for a year beyond that, but this was the first time Camryn had shown real interest in Regan’s artwork.
“I’ll use English.” Cam crooked one brow. “The big theatre show or whatever you all call it is in less than a month and half. What’s your theme or idea or the art term for project thingy?”
“It’s an exhibition at the Kline Gallery and yes, I’ve got a theme picked out. The title is still up in the air.” Regan held his breath for a beat. “Right now I’m going with Confined Obsession.” Well, that was part of the title, anyway.
Regan stared at Camryn with no idea what Camryn was thinking as he stared back with his drop-dead gorgeous green eyes. Regan stifled a groan. The guy could model professionally. Cam spent just enough time at the gym to be sculpted without getting too veiny, and he was one of those rare creatures who didn’t have a ton of body hair all over the place. Regan swore Camryn Tate was made for photography.
Too bad Cam never bothered to volunteer to be Regan’s model.
Instead of speaking, Camryn nibbled on the corner of his mouth, no doubt deep in thought. The longer he stayed silent, the more Regan’s skin crawled. He wasn’t totally sold on the project theme, but he didn’t have much choice. “Confine” sounded so harsh… he wanted something equally emotional, but better said.
“How do you suppose you’re going to show this confinement? I mean, it sounds like you’re talking about someone being in jail.” Camryn strummed his guitar, his fingers gliding over the strings to create a melody Regan had never heard before.
“It’s a working title.”
“That makes more sense.” Cam closed his eyes and nodded in slow motion, caught up in his new composition. “Did you have to submit a timeline or anything? I’ve got exactly five weeks to get the bones of my music comp project done. I’m stumped. I thought maybe if you had a plan, your hyper plotting would rub off on me. It worked at mid-terms.”
“Plotting?” Regan snickered. Here he’d thought no one recognized his latent OCD tendencies. Cam got him, as always. Regan stared at the computer screen. He felt a little better about his unspoken choice for the show. “Well, the plan was to show people in the midst of everyday activities but with the confinements and constraints put upon them by society. You know, like Cassidy and her son… Skylar with his suit and tie.” Me and my sexuality with a roommate who doesn’t know I want him for more than platonic reasons.
Yeah, there was no way in hell he’d throw that in. Camryn knew Regan was gay. Regan didn’t exactly keep his taste for men hidden. But Regan wasn’t interested in showing himself in the photographs — he’d worked too damn hard in the space of four years obtaining his photography degree to do a series of self-portraits. Besides, his internship at Rock Monthly wasn’t going to up and disappear because of his sexuality. Max and Skylar loved Regan’s take on capturing the musical community in photographic form. But the friendship with Cam might crumble if love were injected into the scene.
“Who’s going to be in the pictures? Sarah? Skylar? Cassidy might do it. Why don’t you ask Marcie — she’s hot for you.”
“They might do it, yes.” Not quite the way Regan had planned, but they might get involved. “I kinda had an idea who I wanted for the model, but Marcie isn’t on the list. She’s in love with you.”
“Yeah?” Camryn looked up from his guitar, still riffing the bouncy tune. “Well, I am hot, but she’s not my type. Too thin.” He bobbed his brows in time with the music. “Aren’t I so full of shit? Now for the model. Anyone I know?”
“Your ego certainly is intact.” Regan gathered his wits. If he didn’t just say what he wanted, the moment would pass. He swallowed hard. “You — I want you for the model.”
How wasn’t that a whisper? Shit. The declaration in the mirror had come out so much stronger when he’d practiced earlier that morning.
The strumming stopped, and the color bled from Cam’s face. His eyes widened, making Regan’s pulse skip about five beats. “You want me? I don’t know what to say.” He placed his hand on his heart in a dramatic fashion. “It’s all so sudden. I don’t have a speech planned.”
“Drama king.” Regan rolled his eyes. Hell, yes, he wanted Camryn, and not just for photographic purposes. When Camryn looked at Regan, his knees turned to jelly. He wanted those eyes fixated on him as he did devious things to Cam. Looking lovingly down at Regan while Cam swallowed him to the… oh, God. Regan needed to get out and get laid. He’d known lots of guys, both gay and straight, and as far as he knew, Cam wasn’t gay — just theatrical.
“Can I keep the guitar?”
Guitar? Regan forced himself to surface from the Cam-induced haze. “Sure.” For a while, anyway. What Regan had in mind didn’t include the instrument, but keeping it with Camryn had merit. “Actually, yeah, I do want you to have the guitar. I’ve got an amendment to my idea, and you playing will work perfectly. When’s your next gig?”
“Tomorrow night at the Barricade. I’m sitting in with the Taylor Rogers Band for the May Day Festival. Tony’s sick.”
“Score one for you.” The stage at the Barricade had the best lighting for photography. Reds, greens and blues all shimmering off the singer and players. Yes, that would be great. “I’ll be there.”
“You know, I’m excited. You never come see me play.” Camryn strummed the guitar once again. A smile built on the corner of his mouth. “I like it, so don’t wuss out.” Cam toyed with the tuning pegs. “And I know you’re going to get a huge head, but I’m kinda looking forward to being in your pictures. The folks in the music building think you’re the bomb.”
Regan sighed. He wanted to tell Cam not to fuck around with compliments, especially with the music people. At twenty-six, he was too damned old for empty flattery. Sure, Regan loved doing the photos — capturing the heat of the performance was what he lived for. But damn, he hated being on the hair trigger. Four months without even so much as a date sucked balls. Regan scooted back into the safety of the couch. If he kept his mouth shut, Camryn would never know how much Regan wanted him for more than a good headshot.
Camryn stood and stretched. “I’m cashing in. Tomorrow will be late enough. May Day is a blast but man, the night is long, and I want to look good in those pics.” He placed the guitar in its stand and raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in messy spikes. “Sleep and composition class tomorrow.” He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped in the doorway. “Have you — have you ever had a burst of creativity right when you really needed to crash?”
“That’s why I pull the all-nighters. Not because I have to turn the project in the next day. It’s the flow, the zone. Can’t knock it when it shows up.” Cam nodded, and a lock of his ebony hair slid over his forehead. “Yeah.” The smile grew. “Night.”
Once Camryn left the room, Regan covered his face in his hands. Creativity had walked in the door the moment he met Camryn down at the commissary. He probably wouldn’t have paid attention, but Camryn sat on the steps and sang that Queen song so loud, Regan couldn’t help but notice. Cam knew all the words, even when Freddie Mercury and the bass line garbled it. He didn’t shy away when Regan sat down, instead making room for him on the concrete step.
Regan sighed. The moment Cam stopped playing and smiled, he’d fallen head over heels. And Cam had no idea.
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.
Vasha: Being groomed for the man who purchased me is the only life I’ve known. But I want more. I want freedom! My husband-to-be is a cruel, vicious man. I dread the day he claims me. When my bodyguard and friend, Anatoly, arranges my passage to America — as a mail order bride — I hope it means things will be better. I never counted on my husband being so handsome, or so tender. Nor did I know that passion between a man and a woman could be so consuming! He leaves my knees weak and makes my heart race. There’s just one problem… He doesn’t know we’re married! I don’t know how it happened, or how to fix things, but it’s clear Slider is angry. Leaving is the only thing I know to do, but it is also the hardest decision I have ever made.
Slider: I’m not even thirty yet, but I’m already tired of the bullshit that comes with easy women. Maybe seeing my Pres settle down gave me a new perspective. Having the same woman in my bed every night is starting to sound more and more appealing. Or guy. I’m not picky. Love is love. What I didn’t count on was my ex-lover deciding to “help” me with my problem. When he left a naked woman in my bed, I was pissed… until I realized she was in trouble. She needs me, and maybe I need her, too. I always did have a hero complex, but it only takes a few minutes of knowing her before I want to slay her dragons, keep her safe, and show her that not all men are evil.
I didn’t count on her being my wife. F**cking Surge! Always putting his nose where he shouldn’t. When she runs, I realize I seriously screwed up and I have to get her back.
Speak of the devil. I smelled Surge’s cologne before I saw him.
“We good?” he asked.
“Yep. Just tired of the scene inside.”
He shoved a mug of beer toward me. “Here. Drink. Might take the edge off.”
I took it and gulped down half. It was more bitter than what I usually had, but beer was beer. At least, tonight it was. Maybe if I got drunk, I wouldn’t care that I’d be spending the night alone.
He rubbed the back of his neck and cast a look around before reaching for my hand. He twined his fingers with mine. “I know you want more than what I can give you, and you should have it. I’m sorry I’m not ready to settle down, and I hope things don’t get weird between us. I like you, a lot, but I still want to have fun and meet new people. Maybe learn some new things.”
I could understand that. He was younger than me. While I’d been partying hard since high school, Surge was only recently experimenting and opening up more. He’d been a bit reserved when he’d first asked to prospect. I gave his hand a squeeze before letting go.
“It’s fine. I get it. You were clear up front that we were just having fun. Guess I’m just… envious. I see what Spider and Rocket have, and I think I might want that too.”
He looked torn. Before I could react, he pressed his lips against mine in a fast, hard kiss, then took a step back. The way his hand shook belied his agitation, but I hadn’t kicked him out of bed. This was his doing. I didn’t understand what he was thinking or feeling. Had he just been scared of getting too close to someone?
“This might be overstepping, but there’s a gift at your place. All right, so I seriously overstepped, but I think it’s what you need. Before you even said anything, I could tell that you were starting to get that itch. I knew that our time was up or you’d start wanting more from me. You’ve had that look in your eyes almost since the beginning. I’ve been working on this surprise for over a week.”
A week. For a week he’d planning to end things and hadn’t given me a fucking hint? All he’d had to do was say he was bored and we’d have gone our separate ways. No big deal. If he’d just talked to me, been honest about what he was thinking and feeling, then maybe I wouldn’t be so disappointed right now. I’d expected more from him. Not more as in a relationship that was long-lasting, but I’d thought he was man enough to be up front about shit.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked.
“You want someone steady in your life, and that’s fine. It’s just not something I want right now,” he said. “Maybe someday. I don’t know. But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have it. All I want is for you to be happy, Slider. Now go check out your gift.”
I ran a hand down my face, wondering if there was a way to rewind and undo this conversation. It was weird as shit and getting worse by the moment.
“What the fuck kind of gift is supposed to resolve my relationship status? You better not have hired a fucking stripper.” Nothing against those women, or men, but they just didn’t do anything for me. I didn’t like fake. If someone was with me, I wanted it to be genuine, which was probably why I was so fucking tired of the scene in the clubhouse every night.
He smirked. “Why don’t you go home and find out?”
Jesus. I thrust the half empty mug at him, and stepped off the porch. My bike was buried three deep so I decided to walk my ass home. Mostly I didn’t want to stand around waiting for everyone to move their rides when I didn’t know what the fuck was waiting for me at the house. If Surge had wanted to call it quits between us, all he had to do was say so. I’d known he wasn’t in it for the long haul, but this was fucking ridiculous. What the hell kind of gift had he left me?
Swear to Christ if he’d left a woman in my house, some stranger, I might very well kill him. There were times I had to question his reasoning. There was shit in my house I didn’t need someone digging through, and I knew enough about women to know they were fucking curious. If I walked through my door and got shot, with one of my own guns no less, I was going to be fucking pissed. Worse, if whoever he’d left inside had stolen anything, I was going to pound Surge’s ass into the damn ground.
I stomped up my front steps and threw open the door, not caring if I scared the shit out of whoever was inside. The lights were on, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I went room by room, then closed my eyes and took a calming breath before opening the last door — the one to my bedroom. Curled in the center of my bed, bare as the day she’d been born, was a small female. I blinked a few times, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. Then again, the room did spin a little. Just how strong had that beer been?
Glancing around, I spotted a pile of clothes that looked like they would fall apart at any moment. They weren’t the type of worn material that people paid high dollar for, but more the kind you owned when things were really fucking bad. I focused on the woman. I’d seen plenty of beautiful women before, but this one seemed almost otherworldly. She was dainty, and delicate. Her blonde hair was so pale it was nearly white and lay in a wavy tumble across my pillow. Slowly, I entered the room and shut the door behind me.
Any anger I’d felt melted away. It seemed he hadn’t left a stripper in my house. I wasn’t quite certain what he’d done just yet. But the strippers I’d seen around town wouldn’t have been caught in dead in the clothes piled near the bed. I hoped to Christ he hadn’t paid some homeless woman to sleep with me. How was this woman a gift?
I moved closer and reached out to shift a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. It was soft, softer than anything I’d felt before. Kneeling next to the bed, I studied her a moment. The sharp blade of her nose, her prominent cheekbones, the way her lashes lay dark against her pale cheeks. It was a little like discovering the fae were real and one had fallen asleep in my bed. I smiled a little, thinking of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, except there was only one grumpy bear in this house, and I was quite content to leave her sleeping in my bed.
Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.
When Harley‘s 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. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.
The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.
You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!
Seducing Destiny: Jack, the alpha of the North Rockies pack, knows Destiny needs some time to come to grips with her werewolf heritage before he springs the whole mated for life thing on her, but when a band of rogue werewolves move into the area, Jack can’t afford to have his attention divided. It’s time to convince Destiny she belongs in his pack — and in his bed.
Dark Kisses: Kidnapped and dumped in unfamiliar territory, Katie has no idea where she is or why the geriatric old fool chose the Northern Rockies Pack territory to dump her, bound hand and foot. The fact that she’s just come into heat doesn’t help matters either. When Jeff finds her, his mere presence sends flames of liquid lust sizzling through her veins. Can she resist the dark wolf, or will she succumb to his wildly sexy dark kisses?
Praise for Seducing Destiny “I liked this story a lot…very hot!”
— Janie Esparza, The Romance Studio
“I loved how chocolate plays into this storyline. Ms. Kane leaves no doubt in the reader’s mind that sex and chocolate are the perfect combination.”
4.5 Ribbons! — Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies
Praise for Dark Kisses
Paranormal Erotic Romance Category
“An enjoyable read with an interesting cast of characters.”
Destiny stared in dismay at the box in the middle of her kitchen table. Her stomach lurched, a ball of anxiety settling in the very middle of it. Gold gilt covered the small box, giving it an exotic look. An artfully tied crimson bow surrounded by curls of white lace sat cheerfully atop it, adding to the air of decadent luxury.
She knew who’d put it there, and she knew why. Jack. The Alpha of the Northern Rockies werewolf pack. The man who made her knees feel weak whenever she glimpsed him walking down the main street, or lounging at a local coffee shop. The man who’d made it plain that he intended to be her mate. The absolute last man on the face of the planet that she intended to get serious about.
No point in putting this off. Her sensitive nose could smell Jack all over the damn box. She caught the trailing lace between a thumb and forefinger and gently undid the bow, dropping the cheerful piece of ribbon on the table. Taking a deep breath, she plucked the lid off.
Her breath caught in her throat. An exquisitely detailed chocolate wolf nestled in a cushion of crushed white velvet. Every detail from the tip of its muzzle to the dominant curve of its tail was perfect. Jack had reproduced himself exactly. She knew if she turned the little wolf over, she’d find a jagged scar running along its left flank.
“I suppose I could always bite your head off.” Destiny felt a wry smile tug the sides of her mouth. She jumped, startled by the sound of a loud knock on her front door. Quentin must have gotten out of court early. She hadn’t expected him to show up for at least another four hours. Sweeping the ribbon up off the table, she stuffed the box and ribbon into a drawer and slammed it shut.
“Come on in, the door’s open.” She hoped Quentin couldn’t hear the guilt in her voice. Not that she had anything to feel guilty about. Damn Jack and his fancy little chocolate creatures! She smoothed her hands down her skirt and tried to look calm.
“I know, I was just being polite.” Jack strode into the room, a crooked smile on his rugged face. “You’re not usually this happy to see me.”
“I thought you were my boyfriend.” She looked pointedly behind him as if she expected Quentin to materialize any second. “I’m expecting him to drop in after court today.”
Jack ignored her reference to Quentin and gave her a toothy grin. “I intend to be a lot more than a friend, and it’s been a long time since anyone referred to me as a boy.” He advanced, his eyes sparkling. “Glad to hear you finally think of me that way, though, because unless my nose is deceiving me, you’re going to be begging for my attention shortly.”
Destiny felt a surge of color flood her cheeks and she turned away so he couldn’t see her face. It mortified her to know he could smell her eagerness. “You wish.” Now that was lame!
He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him, his touch surprisingly gentle for such a large man. “No, I know. The full moon is on Saturday. You haven’t slept with that wimpy boyfriend of yours, and you’re not going to if you want him to live to see Monday. A human male can’t begin to satisfy your needs. I wouldn’t have to lift a paw; you’d tear him apart yourself. Your frustration level is about to escalate to hellish proportions.” A devilishly wicked smile curved the corner of his mouth. “Fortunately, I can help you deal with that.”
Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy little rescue dog whose breed defies description, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance in 2008, and her fate was sealed when she won a publishing contract with Red Sage Publishing and just a month later Changeling Press accepted her first submission. Since then she has published more than thirty stories in a variety of sub-genres, all with a happily ever after.
She has two handsome sons and six adorable grandchildren and enjoys spending time with them whenever she can. Her hobbies, when she’s not playing with the characters in her head, include kayaking, hiking, swimming, playing guitar, singing and of course, reading.
When Brian Harrison first met Jackie Vasquez at a Hawaiian wedding, Jackie was sixteen and troubled. Six years later they meet again; Brian’s career at Scotland Yard is budding with promise, while Jackie’s student days at the University of Nebraska are rolling toward a strong finish. Magnetic mutual attraction pulls them insistently toward one another, but the ocean separating their lives makes for a simmering romance.
When the waiting ends and they get together for a weekend in Denver, Dom Brian and sub Jackie both know they’ve tapped into something scalding hot, and much deeper than sharing an artful session. Shibari, lust, and love are all on the agenda — but for Brian, so is his police career, and a strange series of crimes seems poised to threaten their romance — and maybe their lives.
Port Clifton’s shops yielded gifts for Brian’s hosts: a huge bouquet of red and white lilies accented with ferns, salal, and baby’s breath; a six-pack of Full Sail Amber Ale; a bottle of 2009 La Lagune, Haut-Médoc — a fine cabernet from France, the merchant said — and Batdorf and Bronson’s Sulawesi Toraja coffee, which the label promised to be earthy and sweet with hints of pineapple and black pepper. He hadn’t planned on so much, but he hadn’t been able to decide if Sonny would love the rich colors of the flowers more, or his favorite ale, or if Luki would get more pleasure out of the fine French wine or a special coffee. He knew it could be seen as an embarrassment of riches, so to speak, but he hoped his friends would understand.
As he approached the door, he faced the more immediate problem of how to knock while juggling it all, but he needn’t have worried. Sonny must have seen him stumbling from his car, and he swung the door wide just as Brian arrived.
“Come in,” Sonny said, and calmly unburdened him, laying the presents carefully aside so he could wrap his long arms around Brian in an enthusiastic hug, which he obviously considered a proper greeting. He let go and backed away a step. “Good to see you!”
The wonderful thing about Sonny, Brian thought, was that he never would have said such a thing if he didn’t really mean it. Brian’s own smile grew, and he nodded. “You too,” he said. “I brought you flowers and beer.”
“Thank you!” Sonny laughed. “Such wisdom in one so young.”
“And coffee and wine for Luki,” Brian added, having no idea what else to say or why he was stating the obvious.
Luki strode up just then, apron clad, and chestnut curls — sprinkled now with silver, Brian noticed — in disarray. “Perfect,” he said. “What Sonny said — wisdom!”
Luki’s face seemed so familiar yet transformed somehow. He didn’t grin, but he smiled a little, and joy fairly danced in the pale eyes that most often used to seem so cold. Brian knew Luki had survived a nearly fatal bout with lung cancer — in remission less than a year — and he thought maybe that had given him some gift of contentment. But after Luki thanked him and gave him a quick hug, Brian saw his gaze settle on Sonny, and he recognized that the true source of Luki’s joy was his husband, and the love that had deepened through the years they’d spent together.
Distracted by the familiar wave of envy he always felt in the presence of this couple, wishing he could somehow express it, Brian missed much of what Sonny said as he followed them to the kitchen. He tried to marshal his attention back to the present, and caught Sonny saying he didn’t think he’d ever seen lilies so red. Brian nodded, and murmured agreement, but then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
He turned toward the motion, and there stood Jackie Vasquez. All grown up — and apparently fresh from a shower. December sun poured through a window at his left, and it lit the red in his hair, making it smolder despite being darkened with damp. Brian hadn’t noticed before that Jackie’s gray eyes were like a warmer version of Luki’s blue, very pale, and similar in size and shape. Perhaps it was a trait traceable to Luki’s father — Jackie’s grandfather. But there the similarity stopped. While Luki’s pale eyes shone in contrast to his brown skin, Jackie’s somehow harmonized with his pale, dark-haired, dark-freckled coloring. The effect, though, seemed to Brian no less singular.
After a few seconds, Brian realized that while he had been standing there silently analyzing the evidence of a common gene pool between the two remarkable-looking men, Jackie had actually been speaking to him.
“Jackie,” Brian said, then thought to add, “Um, it’s good to see you again.”
“You seem surprised.” Jackie absentmindedly scratched at the center of his chest, which was bare and still damp, and where fine russet hairs formed a diamond between healthy, smooth pecs that clearly belonged to a man. Nothing boyish remained in Jackie’s physique, though he still had what might be called a boyish smile, or youthful, at least.
“Yes,” Brian nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I had no idea you would be here.”
Luki spoke up. “We didn’t expect him to be here, Brian, or I would probably have mentioned it on the phone. He was supposed to fly out yesterday.”
“I got bumped,” Jackie explained, and shook his head, apparently unhappy with the airline. “So the uncles agreed to put up with me for another day, and Sonny said he’d drive me to the airport tonight.”
Brian felt a little tongue-tied, which wasn’t a familiar feeling at all. He nodded.
Jackie squinted and cocked his head to the side. “I mean it, though, Brian. I’m glad to have a chance to talk to you. I… I don’t remember things clearly from… but I know you did a lot, and I’ve always wanted to thank you in person.”
That shook Brian’s tongue loose, and he said, “Jackie, there is nothing at all for you to thank me for. I’m glad I was there and was some help. I’m grateful you came through okay.”
Brian saw color rise in the pale skin between the freckles of Jackie’s cheeks. Jackie bit his bottom lip — very reminiscent of his Uncle Luki — and then looked away. He glanced back, said, “Well, I’d better put clothes on… I mean, a shirt… You know.”
Brian heard Sonny giggling. A delightful and always unexpected sound.
“Hurry up, Jackie,” Luki said. “Food’s on the table.”
Lou Sylvre loves romance with all its ups and downs, and likes to conjure it into books. The sweethearts on her pages are men who end up loving each other — and usually saving each other from unspeakable danger. It’s all pretty crazy and very, very sexy. As if you’d want to know more, she’ll happily tell you that she is a proudly bisexual woman — a mother, grandmother, lover of languages, and cat-herder — of mixed cultural heritage. She works closely with lead cat and writing assistant, the (male) Queen of Budapest, Boudreau St. Clair. She lives in the rainy part of the Pacific Northwest, and hearing from a reader infallibly brightens the dreary weather. Find her through her links listed here, or drop her a line at lou.sylvre@gmail.com.
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