Sadie Matthews wasn’t sure what to think when her dead fiancé waltzed back into her life. Not to mention wondering how he would get along with her other two werewolf mates, Elijah and Luke. With all three pulling on her heartstrings for attention, she needs to figure out how they all fit together because her heart can’t break into three pieces. Just as she’s about to figure it out, danger comes to the wolf packs.
Wolves are winding up dead, and everyone is looking to her to find out who is behind it. With this new turn of events, she needs her men behind her even more. Can she discover who is behind the murders? Will she be able to bring peace between the rising tensions of her three mates?
She jumped when she heard Luke, one of her wolf mates. He came into the kitchen wearing nothing more than plaid pajama pants. He slipped his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck. His beard tickled her skin as he kissed her. It was then he held her closer and growled.
The strange wolf who had entered the house looked up.
“Who is that?” Luke asked.
“I-I’m not sure. I… He looks like Greyson.”
The other male stopped eating mid-bite and dashed out of the kitchen onto the patio. Sadie broke loose from Luke’s grasp and ran after him, but the fleeing wolf disappeared into the densely wooded backyard. The full moon shone bright silver as it sank beneath the trees. The night would be over soon. She wanted to go farther into the forest, but Luke caught her hand.
“Hey, come back inside and tell me what happened. He’ll come back if he’s hungry enough. Sometimes strays are drawn by the smell of food or the energy of the pack. They might linger for a day, but they normally wander off. If he shows up in the morning, then Elijah can talk to him. Come back to bed.”
Sadie shook her head. “No. He’s more than some random wolf. I know it.”
Luke sighed. “If he is, then we can look for him in the daytime with Elijah. I missed you in our bed.” He slithered his hand underneath her robe and found her patch of curls. His finger massaged her clit and he fondled her breast with the other hand. His desire flared along the mental bond they shared. He trailed his tongue over her throat. Sadie sank into the bliss he evoked in her. The more he worked her clit, the more her thoughts of the strange wolf fell away. Luke squeezed her nipple until her breaths came in small pants. His fingers slid inside her. Sadie ground against his cock as it poked into her ass. “Do you think you can put him out of your mind for a few hours?”
“Oh, Luke.”
“What are you two doing down here?” Elijah, her other wolf mate, came into the kitchen. “I think I know what you’re doing. Shame on you for not inviting me.” Elijah kissed her.
Lust strangled any thoughts of the mysterious wolf that had dashed out of the house. Their emotions mingled with hers until she didn’t know where she ended, and they began. As Sadie sank deeper into their yearning, the animal nature of their wolves surged forward. All thoughts of the pleasure they wanted to draw out flew out the window. She needed them.
Crymsyn Hart is a National Bestselling author of over eighty paranormal romance and horror novels. Her experiences as a psychic and ghostly encounters have given her a lot of material to use in her books. Vampires, grim reapers, shifters, and other paranormal creatures tend to end up in her books no matter how hard she tries to keep them away.
She currently resides in Charlotte, NC with her hubby and her three dogs. If she’s not writing, she’s curled up with the dogs watching a good horror movie or off with friends.
To find out more about Crymsyn, check out her website on: www.crymsynhart.com
Lee is just the transporter for the broken werewolves his team rescues from the Brotherhood. His latest pick-up goes badly when one wolf bolts, and his van is shot at, making it tough for him to keep it together. He’s got sick and badly injured wolves to care for until someone else comes to get them, though, so he heads for his cabin in the woods, knowing he has to keep his charges safe.
Drew has been in captivity a long time, helping keep his friends alive by giving of his own healing energy. Lee is like a whole new world for him, because Lee’s life force bolsters his, and Drew knows he’s found the other half of his soul. Now he has to learn he can’t save everyone if he wants to stay with Lee. Can they find a way to do what they must and still love each other?
One of the wolves bolted at the first vehicle change, and he knew he should have gone after, but the other five had a rendezvous with one of Abby’s contacts, and he had to get them to the, well, not church on time.
That idea made him laugh out loud.
They were getting worse, and he was beginning to worry he wasn’t going to be saving many more.
The last one in the first truck was so skinny, so exhausted he was barely breathing. The run had taken it out of him. Lee lifted him, needing to get him moved. “Come on, buddy. We have to keep moving, okay?”
Something made him frown, a whiff of gunpowder on the air, and he tossed the wolf in the cab of the new truck, heading off and leaving the empty truck behind. It was registered to someone else, just a piece of shit to move bodies with.
This truck was his.
He knew it backward and forward, how fast it could go, how it could take a turn.
The wolf whined gently, and Lee nodded. “I know, buddy. I’ll come back and look for him once you guys are safe. He seemed strong. They’ll be chasing us, not him. I’m sorry.”
He floored it, heading up into the mountains, pushing it. He couldn’t go home, but he could go to the cabin. It was safe, secure, warm, and well supplied.
Defensible. “We’ll get you guys safe until the other team can come. I swear it.”
Poor babies. So skinny. So tired. This shit pissed him off. There was always someone out there willing to exploit, whether it was humans or animals or shifters like them. He hated it.
What he did wasn’t much, but it was something. He could get these guys somewhere safe, somewhere they could heal or die, whichever they needed to. At least they would be free. Usually the ones he picked up were men, but more and more often they were leading out wolves. He had no idea if this meant they were weaker, stronger, just different. It didn’t matter. They were free.
The wolf next to him wiggled over enough to put a dry nose against his hand, a soft, grunting sigh sounding. Yeah, he got it. This was exhausting. “Rest, man. I’ll have food for you when we stop.” Good food, not the kibble-like crap they’d been fed at the Brotherhood.
He thought he heard the heavy tail wag, and that made him smile. “Right. Sometimes that’s what you need. I have milk. I have hamburger. I have chicken. Good stuff. There’s even an elk roast in the freezer.”
A sharp whine sounded when he said elk. Yeah. That was the reddest, gamiest meat. It would have the most nutritional value.
“We’ll start with the milk and defrost the elk, then. You hold on, buddy, and I’ll help you.”
That tail thumped again, and he would swear the mangy coat looked better, fuller. Trick of the light, he was sure.
“The cabin is remote, but it’s warm and safe. We’ll hide out there for a while, let you guys heal.”
That nose was colder now when it brushed him, and those teeth grazed his wrist when he reached out to stroke the wolf’s ears. A thank you.
“Oh, you are special, aren’t you? You wait, you’ll be okay. Soon you’ll be strong.”
Panting, the wolf closed his eyes, then the breathing evened out, and Lee felt alone again. That was okay. He was used to it.
He kept looking over, though, because he needed to see that skinny chest rising and falling.
It was important to keep them all alive, but this guy really spoke to him. Something about the way the wolf responded told him the spirit was willing.
Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy’s Girl, BA Tortuga spends her days with her basset hounds and her beloved wife, texting her sisters, and eating Mexican food. When she’s not doing that, she’s writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA’s personal saviors include her wife, Julia Talbot, her best friend, Sean Michael, and coffee. Lots of coffee. Really good coffee.
Having written everything from fist-fighting rednecks to hard-core cowboys to werewolves, BA does her damnedest to tell the stories of her heart, which was raised in Northeast Texas, but has heard the call of the high desert and lives in the Sandias. With books ranging from hard-hitting GLBT romance, to fiery manages, to the most traditional of love stories, BA refuses to be pigeon-holed by anyone but the voices in her head.
Halloween nightmares & flying broomsticks… It’s All Hallows Eve and you can’t stop the party for long!
Cat Out of Hell by Isabella Jordan — Joey makes Katrina feel things she’s never felt before. But will either of them escape this Halloween nightmare alive?
Headless Horseman by Marteeka Karland — One too many Flying Broomsticks and a phobia about Halloween aren’t the only things chasing Isabelle Crane into the darkness…
Voodoo Queen by Lia Connor — When Paul comes to check Marie out will he wind up in her bed? It’s Halloween in New Orleans, and you can’t stop the party for long!
Raven by Willa Okati — On All Hallows’ Eve Leonard comes to Andrew for their yearly tryst. Trouble is, one of them’s a ghost, and can’t stay longer than midnight…
Good Weds Evil by Kate Hill — Trapped between heaven and hell, Evangeline and Urbane have only each other. Forever.
Witch of Alloway by Marie Treanor — When notorious rock star Tam returns to his home village for a special Hallowe’en gig, it’s more than the dead Annie raises!
All Dressed Up by Ashlynn Monroe — Will Isaac be willing to share his wife with two demons?
Kuro by Ana Raine — When Preston saves a black cat everything he knows about life and demons is going to be questioned.
Like The Stars by Jonathan Wright — A vampire will seduce you with detached casualness, but a Lycan will fight to the death to keep you.
“If you like your erotica galloping fast, then Marteeka Karland’s Jack-O-Lantern: The Headless Horseman is just what you need. It’s light and humorous in all the right places. A fitting read for the season.”
— TMC Reviews
Praise for Raven
“Willa Okati delivers another… stunner with volcanic m/m intimacy which sears the pages.”
5 Hearts! — Annie, The Romance Studio
Praise for Good Weds Evil
“Incendiary passion burns up this Jack-O-Lantern and makes it a heavenly treat for Halloween.”
Joey grinned from his seat at the bar as he looked around the smoke-filled room. The biker at the bar he’d visited in the last town had given him some good advice. This place really was something different. A wild party where a guy had a good chance of getting laid. Just what he was looking for.
It wasn’t yet midnight and the party was in full swing. Beer and whiskey flowed, the crowd was a nightmarish sea of masked and painted faces. After doing a double take, Joey realized he was the only one who wasn’t dressed up for Halloween.
And I’m in a town called Hell. How was that for his first Halloween as a free man?
Two people were already fucking in a booth near the back, a guy dressed like a Roman soldier and a woman dressed like a naughty nurse. There was another couple next to him, dressed as a devil and his beautiful angel, and from the look on the guy’s red painted face, they appeared to be ready to get it on. Until the devil noticed Joey sitting there.
Following the line of his gaze, the angel turned in her seat to gaze at Joey.
Damn, she was beautiful. Unlike many of the bar’s costumed patrons, she wasn’t wearing a wig or a hat. Just a wire and tinsel halo hovering over long, blonde hair so pale it looked silver. Her skin was creamy white, and a lot of it was visible in the filmy white costume she wore. The tops of her full breasts were revealed by what there was of a bodice and it had his cock throbbing beneath the small table where he sat.
Beautiful, clear blue eyes met his. She liked what she saw too, but the raw lust he felt wasn’t mirrored in her eyes. No, there was something else…
Joey never noticed the devil ease over to his table as he stared at her.
“Do you like angel food cake, my friend?” The man’s voice was a harsh whisper in his ear.
So he was her pimp?
Regardless, Joey loved the thought of fucking her. The physical cravings that had been chemically induced by the men who’d created him, half man and half leopard, and kept him a prisoner for so many years, had lessened to an extent. It was tolerable now. Things had been so easy when he was still with Alex. Sharing the lovely reporter they’d initially kidnapped, without any sort of commitment, just to appease the nagging ache in his loins, had been ideal. It had been Alex who’d fallen for the beautiful blonde.
Something about this little angel reminded Joey of her, of Casey. The thought of having the beauty in front of him in bed made his mouth water.
“Maybe,” Joey finally answered.
“Our little angel will spread her wings for you,” the man’s voice droned on close to his ear. “For the right price.”
Her gaze shifted to the devil at his ear and back.
Rivals to friends to lovers and more — there’s much ado about you, you, you.
Open Cover Before Striking: Davis Carmichael doesn’t do love. He’d rather strip naked and crawl through a field of broken glass than give anyone that much control over him. The only thing he cares about is his journalism career. That is, until he meets Cristian Baranov, a die-hard Romeo with an uncanny knack for making connections and taming cranky wordsmiths. A man who breaks down Davis’s resistance with a sweep of his hand for just one night. Neither expected they’d ever meet again, but fate has other plans…
Best Laid Plans: Jefferson’s a serious-natured soccer star, and Teddy was born to party till the wheels come off. But they have more fun fighting with each other than they would kissing anyone else. Maybe — maybe — they’re falling in love. But when everything turns topsy-turvy, is their new alliance strong enough to save the day?
Teddy retraced his path backward, down the three shallow porch steps and onto the sidewalk in front of 1514 Saltman Street. Dandelions and crabgrass grew through cracks in the pavement, and someone named BIG JOE had signed the concrete before it dried back in — Teddy squinted — 1983.
Teddy pressed the fingertips of both hands to his mouth as he craned his neck for a good look up at 1514. Two blocks away from the University of West Ioannes campus. Near enough to walk; far enough for independence. Red brick — the kind of red that made him think of sunsets and abattoirs — battered and chipped at the corners. Faded black shutters at every window. The wooden porch boards had been painted a dull slate gray and had gaps between them big enough to lose a quarter down. Straight-up house on the bottom floor, divided into two doll-sized apartments on the second floor. Climbing vines draped lushly over the walls. And it had balconies.
Yes and yes again. Teddy’s grin grew behind the lattice of his fingertips. He jigged in place, three steps of a Cossack kick that made his mop of coppery hair bounce over his forehead. It’s perfect.
He shaded his eyes to squint up at the balconies. Those were what had really sold him on the deal — well, he would have signed up no matter what to get out of the dorms, but anyway. When he’d been offered a chance at a different arrangement, he’d jumped at it. He’d imagined it would be nice, but this was the cherry on top. His own private balcony, where he could cozy up in a blanket in winter and leave his flip-flops wherever he pleased during the summer months. He’d bet it got great natural light. He’d been born to bask, and his full-body dusting of freckles proved it.
Did the balcony already have a chair, or would he need to scout one out at the Army Surplus? Teddy stood on his tiptoes, but he couldn’t be sure. The sturdy vines growing up the sides of the house made it difficult to see past them in places, so thick and verdant green that they had their own personality.
Hmm. I wonder…
Teddy kicked off his shoes and wiggled his bare toes on the pavement, right over BIG JOE’s signature. The vines looked strong enough to climb, and he was a small guy. They ought to hold five-four and a buck-twenty-five. He tugged at a trailing green tendril to check and made a pleased noise in the back of his throat when they didn’t give way. They barely budged except to rustle at him in annoyance.
“Let’s see what we can see,” he said, reaching for a double grip on the vines over his head. “Up, up, and away!”
He almost made it halfway to the second story — not bad, personal record — before his left foot skidded off. Oops. He’d forgotten to account for natural skin oils on his soles and slipperiness from the warmth of sneakers in summertime. If it hadn’t been for that, he thought, he would have made it all the way.
“Yipe!”
“Whoa!”
The body-to-body collision jarred the fillings in Teddy’s molars, and the pair of sinewy arms that wrapped around his chest made his ribs squeak in protest. He flailed and kicked his legs backward and got his ass dropped on the sidewalk for his pains. Right on JOE. Oh, the humanity. “What the hell?” he yelped, looking up again at six feet of indignation framed in chestnut hair and bright-blue eyes.
“Jefferson?” Hastily, Teddy flipped his leather kilt down to hide the goods. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your ass. Don’t bother to thank me.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Teddy said. He rolled to his knees and got up, dusting himself off. Jefferson! Of all the people. To say they didn’t get along — and never had — was like daring to suggest water might be slightly wet or that fire had the potential to burn. And they couldn’t ever seem to avoid each other. He was besties with the boyfriend of Teddy’s bestie, Noelani, which was just all kinds of swell. Everywhere he went, Jefferson poked his giant soccer head up, with his jock buddies in tow and his utter, absolute lack of a sense of humor and his stupid cologne-ad face.
Jerk. Teddy picked a stubborn dandelion fluff off his elbow. “What are you doing here? It’s summer session. You’re at soccer camp.”
Jefferson arched an eyebrow. He leaned his hip against the porch, his Ioannes tank clinging tightly to his pecs. Unlike Teddy, he tanned instead of burned. Freckles had never dared show their faces on his skin, no matter how much time he spent kicking little white balls around, broiling on a practice field. “Am I really? Look again. Unless you think I’m a figment of your imagination.”
“My imagination can do better than that,” Teddy said. Okay, maybe not much better. He could admit to an aesthetic appreciation for the benefits of good nutrition and plentiful exercise, and maybe some good genetics, but that was it. There, he drew the line. He lifted his chin. “Are you playing hooky or what?”
Jefferson ignored the question. He reached out to take one of Teddy’s hands, the move so surprising that Teddy actually let him do it — until Jefferson flipped it from back to front and wrinkled his nose. “Nice manicure. You and Noelani go to the same place to get your nails done?”
Teddy bristled up. He might be small, but he was a redhead, by God, and he had the temper to match. And it was a nice manicure. He jerked his hand back and flashed the nails, neatly shaped and trimmed and painted a sparkly blue, at the… the… oaf, finishing with the middle ones up. “I can get you a discount if you want. Nail Me Spa on Maple. I don’t know if they can do much for athlete’s foot.”
Jefferson chuffed a short breath through his nose and glowered at Teddy. “I was just saying. Jeez. Why do you always have to get all fired up?”
Teddy ignored his question with what he hoped was grand aplomb. Ooh, Jefferson always got him wound so tight. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, planting his feet on the sidewalk.
“What do you think?” Jefferson turned to pick up a duffel that’d been hidden in his shadow and hitched the strap over one shoulder. “I’m moving in.”
Willa Okati is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, and a lifelong love of storytelling. She is definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for.
Everyone give a warm welcome to author Marteeka Karland!
Marteeka is joining us today for a quick interview and to tell us about her latest Changeling Press release — Bohannon! But before we move on to the delicious MC Romance she has for us, let’s find out a little more about the author.
Has writing always been part of your life or did you just fall into it?
I started writing when I was in the 3rd grade. A Halloween story we were told to write as a fun project in our Reading class. My teacher loved it and while everyone else wrote like a paragraph, I wrote a while page front and back. I never stopped. It just took another thirty years for me to finish my first book. I’ve been published now for exactly sixteen years.
If you could do it all over again, would you change anything?
Definitely. More things than I can say. I think writing is like anything else in life. It’s a lesson in successes and failures, most of which can’t be predicted. I’ve had my share of both. The only thing I can say with certain is I’ve managed to surround myself with incredible writers along the journey. Some of which are so very willing to help in everything from proofreading to plot grid construction help, to marketing, to just being a shoulder to cry one when things go horribly wrong and that new release sells 10 copies. 🙂
What different genres have you written over the years and do you have a favorite?
That’s a tough one. Probably Science Fiction Romance. I love the idea of aliens in general. It’s even better if they’re the hard-bodied sexy kind who appreciate their women. 🙂 With science fiction, there are always rules to follow (the science part) but there are limitless possibles with what you can do with it. I’m hoping to make it back to science fiction and paranormal one day.
What’s your favorite type of hero to write?
I like the strong Alpha type. But I also like him to fall hard for his woman. He must be super protective and helpless in the face of her displeasure or, God forbid, her tears. I especially like it when he fights his attraction to her. At least for a while. I mean, it just makes his surrender that much sweeter.
Is there a common theme or trope that tends to carry through your various books? Or is there one you enjoy writing more than others?
p style=”text-align: justify;”>Soldiers. I LOVE soldiers. Military. There is nothing hotter than a take-charge guy in uniform. (In books. Those real-life types tend to be major assholes.) Fortunately, I’m a woman. I make them Alpha without being complete assholes to their women. Everyone else is on their own. 🙂 I like to write heroines who need some kind of rescue but are still fighting to make a place for themselves. I like for her to need her man’s help, but to prove to him she can survive without it. Oxymoron?? maybe. But it’s MY imagination! lol
As to other things in my writing, you may notice that the main characters in my books all drive some kind of Ford vehicle. That’s by design. 😀
Can you tell us about your current series? Do you have a set number of them planned?
Bones MC is the series. I’ve currently got three books complete (Cain, Bohannon, and Sword) with a fourth in the works (Viper.) As to how many I have planned, I suppose that depends on how well they are received. As long as readers are enjoying them, I’ll keep writing them. 🙂
Thank you, Marteeka, for joining us today! And now… I’d like to introduce you to her latest book — Bohannon!
Luna: Never in a million years did I think I’d meet up with my childhood hero like this. Beaten down and scared out of my mind, my heart dropped when I realized who had me. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life, but Gage Bohannon the man was even harder to resist than the ridiculous fantasy I’d held in my mind.
Bohannon: I’ve never kept a woman who don’t want to be kept. But I’ve made more than one good girl turn rogue. If I had any decency in me at all, I’d have locked her in my room and left her alone. Instead, I’ll take whatever she wants to give me and coax a few things she doesn’t.
Gage Bohannon swept the area for more of the unwelcomed club in Bones territory. The local club had gotten hit first, but Bones had finished all of them. By his reckoning, any club selling drugs in their territory deserved whatever they got. Bones was many things, but they weren’t drug dealers, pimps, or a distributor of firearms. They weren’t law-abiding citizens — as evidenced by the slaughter tonight — but they weren’t scum of the earth either.
“One alive in the truck,” Deadeye’s voice came through the earpiece connected to his radio. “Female. Her hands are still on the steering wheel, which is why I left her alive. There is a gun in the vehicle with her. Along with the hand holding it. Orders?”
“Hold. If she moves her hands or in any way attempts to get that gun, shoot her.”
“Copy.” He hated giving Deadeye an order to kill a woman, but he wasn’t compromising anyone’s safety. They’d started this. They’d finish it.
“Keep your hands on that fucking steering wheel,” he bit out. “Don’t fucking test me or the sniper on you will kill you before I ever give the order.” The girl whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut but otherwise didn’t move. “Are you armed?”
She took a deep breath, but didn’t let go of the wheel or open her eyes. “There’s a gun on the floor around my feet somewhere, but that’s it. And it wasn’t mine. I think the owner left his hand with the gun.”
“Good,” he said. “You told the truth about that weapon. Are there any others? Knives? Anything?”
“No, sir.” Her voice wavered in her fear. Again, that was good. She understood the danger she was in.
“What club do you represent? You don’t have colors of any kind. Are you a member? A chaser? An ole lady?” Bohannon had a funny feeling at the nape of his neck. A prickly sensation he knew never to ignore. He didn’t think there was danger or his brothers would have known it. It was the girl. Something about her…
“My brother owes Scars and Bars money for drugs. I’m here in his stead. My service for his life.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m not with them in any way, nor do I want to be. I just want to get out of this alive so I can tell my brother to go to hell.” Fear was making her brave. It surprised Bohannon how much he liked that. It made him want to smile when the circumstances didn’t exactly call for it.
“Keep your hands on the wheel until I open the door. I want you to step out. Keep your hands up and open. Keep it slow. Do you understand?”
“I’m scared, not stupid,” she snapped, then immediately winced. “Sorry.”
Bohannon opened the door to the truck, his gun firmly aimed at her head. If she so much as twitched, he’d kill her himself, saving Deadeye the grief. The girl moved carefully, as he’d instructed. Deliberately. She knew she was in danger. Knew not to fuck with them. That knowledge would make life easier on all of them. The overhead light on the old Ford was long out so there wasn’t much of her features he could see.
She uncurled her fingers from the steering wheel slowly, keeping her hands open and at the same level. One leg slid out to place her foot on the ground. Then the other. All the while she never once looked at him. Fear was etched in every move she made. Sweat ran down her arms in streams as if she’d just stepped from a shower.
Once outside, she stood still, hands still in front of her, fingers splayed wide. Bohannon shut the door with a sharp shove of his hand.
“Turn around. Hands on the truck.”
She did as told, not hesitating in the least. Her willingness to comply with orders surprised Bohannon. Most mules were just as stubborn as their namesakes. This one seemed more resigned than anything else. She acted as if she had nothing to hide. Maybe she didn’t. Or, more likely, she hoped to use her wiles to get herself out of a jam.
As he carefully patted her down for weapons, Bohannon couldn’t help but notice her as a woman. She was slight in stature; barely over five feet and svelte of frame. He tried to be as non-personal as possible, but it was difficult when the swell of her breast was just above his palm as he checked her belly for weapons against her skin. His hands were big, and she was so tiny his palm nearly spanned her from side to side yet the curve of her ass was fleshy and rounded, made to tempt a man.
But he was Gage Bohannon. His club name had been Slayer before his brothers sought to mellow him after that stupid TV show became popular, calling him by his last name because the lead character’s name was the same. He might enjoy women, might be tempted to do wicked things with the forbidden female from time to time, but he was always in complete control of himself. Now was no exception. She was tempting, true enough. But he had a job to do.
Except his cock had other ideas. Bohannon swore to himself, easily envisioning grinding his hardening erection against that savory ass. He could tell she was affected by his nearness. Either she wasn’t adept at staying in control or, more likely, she thought to tempt him with sex. If she did, he’d oblige her. Then take her to his president anyway.
“What are you going to do with me?” Her voice shook, her fear obvious, yet she stayed put, not turning or looking over her shoulder.
“Take you back to our president. We’ll discuss the events of the evening then decide what to do next.” Not that he needed to give her an explanation.
“Will you kill me?”
“Only if Cain orders it.”
She whimpered, her body trembling beneath his touch. She was truly scared, not trying to garner his attention. She hadn’t offered herself. Hadn’t made an overt move of aggression or seduction. So what was her game?
“What can I do to stay alive?”
Bohannon thought about that. What could she do? “Depends on what Cain decides. If you’re looking to convince someone of your innocence, it will be him. I warn you, though, he never goes easy on clubs doing business in our territory without permission. Anything he does to you will be to send a message to Scars and Bars.”
“I don’t mean anything to them. If he wants leverage on Scars and Bars he won’t get it with me. I’m only here to protect my brother.”
“Your fate is in Cain’s hands,” he said. “Accept it. And whatever you do, tell the truth. If you lie, he’ll know. You won’t get a second chance.”
She turned to look at him then. Just a movement of her head, her long midnight hair falling over the other shoulder. When those intensely dark eyes met his, glittering like onyx in the moonlight, Bohannon nearly doubled over as a punch of lust hit him low and mean. He couldn’t see her clearly, but there was something disturbing and familiar about her.
“You have to understand, I have nothing to do with the club. My brother owes them drug money. They used me to pay his debt by hauling their… product here.”
Bohannon fought off his instinct, which was to comfort and protect her. If ever a female needed protection it was this one. Such a small woman in the middle of a biker war? She was doomed from the beginning. Ruthlessly, he took her wrists and zip-tied them behind her back. “Answer any question Cain asks you truthfully and completely. That’s the best advice I can give you.”
“And if he doesn’t ask me anything? If he’s already decided?” Her eyes swam with unshed tears. Her skin glistened with sweat.
“Then he already has the answers he needs. I’ll tell him you cooperated in every way with us, assuming you continue to do so. If he decides you need to die, I can promise you’ll never know it’s coming, and it will be a clean, quick death.”
A little sob escaped before she could press her lips together tightly. She ducked her head, breaking her entrancing stare, but not before she got under Bohannon’s skin. Why did he feel like he knew her? Lord knew he’d never forget a woman like her, so he couldn’t have met her.
Everyone called him Bohannon, but his jacket proclaimed him Slayer because, of all his biker brothers, he had the most kills. He was the enforcer of the club. If something needed doing, he was the one who did it. That way, if the police caught him, they could trace nothing back to anyone else in the club. He’d take full responsibility and shift blame away from his brothers. The name had fit him more than any other, so he thought. This girl, however tested his belief in his job. Could he kill her if Cain ordered it?
“Promise me that if Cain orders you to kill me, you’ll at least look into helping my brother.”
“Can’t do that.”
“His name is Markus Newton. He’s not a bad man, just… self-absorbed.”
Bohannon lost his breath. Before he could stop himself, he snatched a penlight from his utility belt and shone it in the girl’s face. Markus Newton! A name from his past. Now here was a woman from his past. It had to be. But Markus was more than ten years this girl’s senior! Her older brother! That son of a bitch should be protecting her, not the other way around.
“Luna?” Her head snapped up, eyes squinting at the bright light. “Son of a bitch.” She tried to see past the light but, of course, she couldn’t. “Luna Martin?”
Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.
Jordan knows everyone wants to use him for his family name and wealth.
Natalie is forced to take on the heavy responsibility of a troublesome sibling.
Can Natalie prove to Jordan that the only thing she wants from him is his love and dominance? Or will a misunderstanding cause Jordan to lose the submissive of his dreams?
Lynn Burke is a full-time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.
As a voracious reader herself, Lynn appreciates all of her readers, and hopes she can take them on a journey with her writing.
Award-winning reporter for the Adana Observer Holly Barberossa finds herself once again in her natural environment: hot water.
Antagonizing the Dollavera “brothers,” a family of clones who run the Amalgamated Spaceport Guild of Scavengers, with a series of damaging exposés was bound to drop her into a cauldron of trouble but when a dismembered body, an abused robot and a scared alien entity are thrown into the mix then Holly is really in the soup.
Then there’s Maxim Dollavera who, she hopes, is not like his “brothers.” A man with his smoldering good looks just can’t be a bad guy, can he? Trying for a surprise interview Holly walks in on him and his male lover, Felis Panthera, a randy Leonine with equally attractive attributes. Forget the story, she hopes there’s room for one more in Maxim’s erotic world.
But she can’t forget a story, that’s her problem, and her greatest strength. Will Maxim’s brothers allow Holly to walk all over them in the media without retribution? Will Maxim welcome her into his world when she is trying to destroy his brothers? And just who are the bad guys, really?
These and other questions boil over in Spaceport: Trash & Treasure, a Holly Barberossa erotic adventure.
“I loved the futuristic and paranormal backdrop to this tale, which added to the fascination of the plot. I look forward to reading the other stories from a variety of different authors of the Spaceport series.”
4 Stars! — Tallyn Porter, JERR
“The addition of a good mystery and intrigue to the plot make Spaceport: Trash & Treasure a fine addition to the Spaceport series.”
With an emphatic click, Holly Barberossa snapped off her smartcam while K. Dollavera was still flapping his jaws, the bombastic Guild executive ever eager to have the last word. Asshole!
It had been a helluva day. She’d lost her cool and she knew it. Vinnie would gripe about it in the morning, give her the old lecture about getting more with sugar than… hell, she couldn’t remember how that homily ended even though she’d heard it a thousand times.
I need a beer.
The Haze was only ten minutes away. She could almost taste the amber fluid, not to mention the plate of ribs she’d have to go along with it. The image of her favorite meal, dripping with that mouth watering Altaran sauce the cook at the Haze used, filled her mind and worked its magic on her salivary glands. Her empty stomach gave a sustained and hopeful cheer.
She hadn’t stopped for lunch, running from one end of Adana to the other; interviewing idiots and assholes, fending off the groping hands of hopeful pedestrians trying to cop a feel, being kidnapped and fucking led around blindfolded by amateurs on the run (as if they really thought I couldn’t figure out where they took me, geeze! ), gassed by a flatulent Fedoran, given the cold shoulder by the fucking head of ‘Port Security (I’ll put her on a fucking spit and roast her slow), and to top it off that fucking asshole Dollavera trying to wheedle out of not spilling the beans about the gang war brewing right under his and his goddamn brothers’ fucking noses (brothers, there’s a misnomer for you, fucking brothers my ass, fucking clones).
Clones. She took a deep and sustained breath. Good looking clones, sexy clones who boiled her juices every time she was within ten meters of their athletic bulk. Bastards.
She ordered her thoughts and skipped through the interview with Riz Gitto, the retired head of ‘Port Security and CEO of Adana’s newest private security firm. She could tell he wanted her badly, his pale gray eyes undressing her six times during the five minutes she talked to him. He wasn’t bad looking for an old guy and would be a useful contact, so she’d fluttered her dark lashes back at him and deflected his request for a date with the usual stop kidding around, I’m working line and jumped into the interview with that asshole K. Dollavera. At least Riz hadn’t made a grab for her tits.
Exactly why she let Dollavera get under her skin she couldn’t fathom. It wasn’t just that he was a slimy asshole. No doubt it had something to do with the fact that she’d dated (a couple of times) his “brother” Zweep, the Sentient Resources Controller of the family monopoly, the Amalgamated Spaceport Guild of Scavengers. She’d dumped Zweep at the first inkling of his suspicious business dealings. No way could she compromise her journalistic standards by seeing the man at the center of what could be the biggest scandal in Adana history. The fact that she let him go not ten minutes after she met their “brother” Maxim might, she conceded, have had something more to do with it other than being a breathtaking coincidence.
Maxim, the New Year’s Eve hero who had risked his life to save others from a terrible disaster, was something special. There was a guy who knew how to boil the juices, and what made him yummier was that he didn’t even know he did it.
The thought of Maxim being caught up in a shady family business was giving her sleepless nights. He’d been away, supposedly scavenging, for the last month, more likely avoiding the hundreds of fans attracted to his celebrity, so she hadn’t been able to talk to him about it. Not that they were on speaking terms yet; he probably didn’t know she even existed.
I’ll have to change that little detail.
If nothing else, her publicly nailing his two brothers would bring her into his orbit soon enough. What worried her was that Maxim seemed smarter than his “brothers,” and even in the brief moments she saw them interact, they seemed to defer to him. Her worst fear was that he was actually in charge of the operation while posing as a loner, supposedly scavenging the asteroid belt for junk. It would be the perfect cover, playing the dirt smeared grunt collecting trash while secretly pulling the strings behind the ‘Port Authority.
There was a tug at her trouser leg. A grubby face with enormous eyes and a mess of yellow hair looked up and gave her a gap toothed smile.
“Hello, sweetie,” Holly said. “Got something for me?”
The little angel, one of Adana’s many corridor kids, nodded and cupped a tiny hand near her mouth. Holly knelt down beside her and turned her head, brushing aside her raven hair so the little girl could whisper in her ear.
Holly’s heart jumped at the message. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said. “How much?”
The girl put up three fingers, indicating there were two others involved in the chain of observers that had brought her this longed-for news. Holly dropped four credits into her small palm and was rewarded with openmouthed astonishment. She always paid more than the going rate. It guaranteed preferment in the Adana rumor mill.
So, Maxim Dollavera had returned. He was in customs at this very moment and if she hurried she’d catch him.
And then what? She bit her bottom lip and snapped shut her oversized equipment bag. I have no idea, but I’ll think of something. I always do.
Aussie Mikala Ash lives a hectic double life, mild-mannered training & development consultant by day… wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. “For me, burning the candle at both ends is not such a terrible problem; I’m having too much fun!”
The Secret of Hidden Oaks: While working on his Master’s degree in psychology, Carson is offered an internship at a private research hospital. But Harbor Oaks hides a dark secret. His patients are Changelings, shape shifters, being held against their will, and Carson soon discovers he’s really the subject of the scientist’s experiments. His only hope of escape is Tate, a shy, quiet doctor with an agenda all his own.
The Secret of Harbor Springs: Carson and his mate Tate team up with Gaven and Lily to escape Federal agents who are trying to bring them back to Hidden Oaks. Carson holds an unusual power over other Changelings — a power the Federal task force charged with rounding up Changelings will go to any ends to make their own.
Liberate: Carson and Tate have been running for months, trying to evade the JIA so they don’t end up lab specimens for the ruthless organization. With their future on the line, Carson realizes the most important part of his life will forever be his mate, Tate, but how can he trust a man who never tells him the whole truth?
“Ana has a pretty good imagination and can spin a wonderful story with it. It caught my attention from the start and kept my attention all the way to the end.”
— Lisa, MM Good Book Reviews
“If you like mysterious conspiracies and weird goings-on, if you enjoy reading about men who have a lot to hide and those who hunt them, and if you’re looking for a fun story with some dark secrets around shifters, then you will probably like this short story.”
“You are delusional,” I said, taking a step away from Dr. Kline, but unable to stop looking at the young woman. I was sure my vision was playing tricks on me, because the young woman’s arms were gone and in their place were fur-covered legs. Her dress split down her back and as she howled in agony, I saw her entire body was quickly being covered in fur. Her screams were over soon.
Instead of looking at a young woman, I was staring at a dark feline. I thought it was a jaguar. “W-what…”
“All of the patients here are a danger to society and to themselves,” Dr. Kline explained, hitting the red button again so the lights went out, leaving only natural light. Before my eyes, the fur receded back into the jaguar’s body and flesh began to cover her legs and back.
“What are they?”
Dr. Kline smiled and pressed the color button before touching my shoulder lightly. “We call them Changelings.”
* * *
My hands were still shaking, my knees knocking against each other as I fidgeted in the chair in front of Dr. Kline’s desk. What was wrong with them? What was wrong with me? Surely, that was some sort of trick and that young woman really hadn’t transformed into a jaguar? All lies…
“Have you decided?” Dr. Kline asked softly, as he pushed the two boxes toward me.
Stay or run away? Both options were equally unappealing. The drug he wanted to give me that would erase my memory would probably only work as long as I didn’t have any triggers. How could I forget when there were animals everywhere to remind me?
A knock on the door made me twitch. I turned to see the heavy oak door being pushed open. I was afraid of who was going to enter, not sure if a patient was able to escape out of their crisis stabilization unit and was going to come charging at me. Maybe instead of erasing my memory, they were really just going to erase me.
“Ahh, Dr. Tate.” Dr. Kline stood up and went around the side of the desk. I leaned away from him and I was sure he saw, but he just pursed his lips together and didn’t remark. “This is Dr. Tate, Carson. He’s one of our leading doctors, although these days he spends more time in our research department.”
“Hello. This is the new intern, Carson, was it?”
His voice made my back tingle. I focused on the desk, knowing if I looked at Dr. Tate I probably wouldn’t fare well. His voice was smooth and confident, the exact kind of man I preferred.
The way he’d said my name was already enough for my stomach to begin pooling with heat. I couldn’t keep staring at the same lines in the oak desk. Slowly, I looked up at the new doctor.
My breath hitched. He was tall, towering over Dr. Kline, who already towered over me. He had soft blonde hair, several shades lighter than my dark brown. His blue eyes were clear and focused on me, his lips upturned in a marvelous smile. But his body is what really got me going. He wasn’t wearing a lab coat, but instead dark pants and a crisp blue sweater that exposed just enough of his creamy skin at the base of his neck.
I should’ve known looking at him would be dangerous.
“Please tell me you are planning on staying with us?” Dr. Tate asked softly, as he crossed the room to me and took my hand. My hand was rather small inside of his. I felt trapped.
My mind went blank. “I’ll stay.”
Dr. Tate’s jaw locked, but Dr. Kline was the one who clapped his hands and exclaimed, “Excellent.” He grabbed the contract out of the box and shoved a pen in my hand.
I tried to scan the document, but although Dr. Tate had released my hand, he was still standing dangerously close. I could feel his eyes on me, and wished he would undress me instead. Shuddering, I passed my movement off as a twitch and signed the contract.
Dr. Kline scooped up the contract and placed it in a folder in his filing cabinet.
“So… what exactly am I supposed to do?”
“Dr. Tate is going to be your mentor. When you go into the patients’ rooms, he will be there to make sure everything goes well.” Dr. Kline waved a hand at the handsome man standing beside me. I almost felt a sense of possessiveness emanating from Dr. Tate. “He is a scientist, now, as I said. You will have time enough to shadow one of our psychologists here so don’t worry about getting your necessary experience. But we have a… more pressing use for you.”
My chest tightened. What kind of use?
Dr. Kline seemed to have read my mind. “We would like you to teach them how to be human, in a manner of speaking.”
“How?”
“Simply by being, although I am sure you will come up with some techniques and hypothesis on your own. The most important thing you must remember is to never wear or carry anything red. Do you understand?”
I remembered the young woman convulsing on the floor. “Yes.”
“We would like to let the Changelings go back to society, but in order for that to happen, we need someone who has not been working with them to grasp what is different about them from humans. I expect you’ll keep a journal.”
“Of course.” They wanted me to document changes in behavior? This internship kept sounding stranger.
Dr. Kline stood up so I followed suit. He started to extend his hand toward me but then withdrew it on second thought. “Please come to me if you need anything.” He smiled at me and then gave Dr. Tate one experimental glance before going to his large bay window and turning his back to me.
“Come with me.” Dr. Tate nodded toward the door. Something about him was strangely protective. Just by standing near him I felt my fear about Hidden Oaks subsiding. God, I bet he was so good in bed.
Silently, I followed Dr. Tate, hesitating when we approached the elevator.
“Don’t worry,” he said kindly, “We’ll be going to the top floor where the lab is.”
“Why?” I managed to ask.
“My office is up there.” He grasped my wrist, pulling me onto the elevator with him. When he released me, I had to resist the urge to reach back out for him…
Ana is still figuring out what she wants to do with her life, although social work seems to be the most likely. Her best friends are a box of chocolate and her kitten who always sit beside her while she writes. When Ana was in high school, she often wrote about the LGBT community, but now her work is less…innocent. Ana enjoys writing anything and everything, including BDSM, dragons, shifters, magic, and more.
After Alex saves her from being assaulted on the side of the road next to her broken down car, Joyce quickly discovers the only way she feels safe is by sleeping in his arms. But despite the security he gives her, there are questions about Alex that Joyce can’t seem to bring herself to ask. Will he ever want a commitment? What does he feel for the woman who used to have a “friends with benefits” relationship with him for over a decade? More importantly, can he ever love Joyce with the same intensity she feels for him?
Alex has never met a woman more perfect than Joyce. Her innocent sensuality delivers a hard kick to his gut. She’s sweet and talented and brave. She’s more than he could have ever dreamed of, and their relationship seems, at times, to be too good to be true. So what’s keeping him from saying those three little words he longs to say?
Rapidly sitting up, he searched for the TV remote, dropping his iPad onto the floor as he did so. When he finally found the remote, wedged between two couch cushions, he muted the TV. He wasn’t even sure what program was playing anymore.
How long had he been asleep?
He dug his phone out of his pocket. Unknown number. It was nearly eleven o’clock at night. Who would be calling now?
He answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Alex?”
Running a hand through his hair he frowned. “Yeah. Who’s this?”
“It’s Joyce.”
“Oh.” Settling back into the sofa, he couldn’t help but smile. Thoughts of Joyce had been tangling him up this past week. Sometimes he was worried about her.
Sometimes he remembered the attack she’d suffered, but most often it was some sort of sexual fantasy she starred in. He felt guilty thinking about her that way, but he couldn’t help it. She was pretty and sweet and he couldn’t help the direction his mind wandered to when he thought about her.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“No,” he lied. “Well, yeah, but I hadn’t gone to bed yet. Seems I passed out on the couch.” He was still in his dress clothes from work. It had been a long day. “What’s up?”
“This is going to sound like an odd request, but can I come over?”
“Come over?” His cock jumped at the idea. He sent his lap a stern glare. He doubted sex was what she meant.
“Yes. Well, you see, I haven’t really been able to sleep, and I was hoping…” she trailed off.
He knew a good cure for insomnia. Something that would wear them both out.
Alex got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. Maybe that would help get his sex drive under control.
The water didn’t help, but when he heard her sniffle through the phone, that doused his fire. She was crying. Or almost crying. Great. He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, you can come over.”
“I really wouldn’t bother you.” She sniffed again. “But it’s been days. I can’t sleep, and I was thinking because you were there, maybe seeing you would help.”
He didn’t know how he could help, but she was welcome to come cry on his shoulder. “I already agreed, babe.”
“Oh, right. I’m not thinking clearly. Where do you live?”
After he offered to come get her, he gave her the address. Not ten minutes passed before she was at his door. He’d barely had enough time to put away his take-out container from dinner and tidy up a few things.
His smile was wide when he opened door, but it quickly vanished. She was a mess. More correctly, she was a wilted, tired shell of herself. Sure, her hair was combed, she had a bit of makeup on, slightly smudged beneath her eyes, and her clothing looked fresh, though perhaps a little stained from working in the kitchen that night. But the big dark circles under her eyes showed her exhaustion. She hadn’t been lying. She looked ready to fall through the doorframe and sleep where she fell on the floor.
When was the last time she’d had a decent night’s rest? He ushered her inside.
“I’m so sorry to do this to you.” She wrung her hands as she spoke. “I hate to disrupt your life.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t even think! Is anyone else living here? You’re not married or something are you? I don’t want to interrupt –”
Alex cut her off. “I live alone. No interruption. Don’t worry.”
She sighed.
“Come. Have a seat.” He directed her to the living room. She perched on the edge of his couch. He pointed to her gauze wrapped finger. “What happened there?”
She glanced down at her left pointer finger. “I sliced it at work. Four stitches.”
He winced. “Oh, got it good.”
“I’m really tired, and made a mistake. My hand slipped. My dad was mad. He thinks I should be taking a few days off.”
“Why don’t you?”
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “What good will that do me? I can’t seem to sleep anyway. What would being at home worrying help?”
He supposed that was true. Wanting to put his arm around her, he took a seat next to her, but didn’t dare touch her. How bad was her PTSD after the attack? Would the touch of a man, even a compassionate touch, send her spiraling?
“Look, I know this is an imposition, and will sound like an odd request, but can I sleep here tonight?”
Here? He supposed she could. He could sleep on the couch. He’d been doing that before she called. “I guess so. If you think being in a house with another person will help.”
She shook her head. “No, you misunderstand. I’ve been staying at my parents’ place the last few days. Being with others doesn’t help. I think I need you.” She let out a shuddering breath. “I think I need to be close to you to sleep. It’s odd, I’m sure, but I feel safe when you’re around.”
He supposed that made sense. Seeing as he was the first man she saw after the attack.
“So can I sleep here tonight? Like, I mean, in your bed?”
Romance author Cameron Allie grew up in a small town north of Toronto. As a child she loved stories, and after reading her first romance novel at age fifteen, her dreams of writing became singularly focused on love stories. She is currently living in Ontario with her husband, their baby girl, and their cat, who is constantly trying to interrupt the writing process.
Maxine, a trans male-to-female werewolf, is struggling to get beyond her grief over the losses she suffered in her past. Now her mate, Sonya, is pregnant. When Maxine’s ghosts rise to break the new lovers apart, they have more help than they need from her pack.
Sonya’s starting to wonder whether Maxine’s loyalties lie with the wolf pack she’s been with for decades, or with her new mate. It’s beginning to look like sabotage from all quarters. How can a new couple stay together, especially with pups on the way?
Sonya Johnson stared at her clean pad, scowling at its whiteness against the cocoa dark of her thigh and the pale mauve of her panties. Her period should have started four days ago. Granted, she’d stopped taking her birth control after she’d forgotten to take it for three days back in late September. But was it too much to ask that her slip wouldn’t bring on pregnancy? She was a damned doctoral student and working a full-time job.
“Please, God,” she whispered. “Let it just be late. I do not have time for this right now.”
She shivered as a blast of air conditioning rushed across the back of her neck. Maybe it was time to grow her hair out and screw the cuteness of her current kinky-haired bob.
I’m a medical technician. I know enough about the human body to get this message: either stress is delaying my menstrual cycle, or I’m pregnant.
She cursed her mate before she could stop herself.
Sonya sighed, flushed the toilet, and pulled up her panties and shorts. It wasn’t Maxine’s fault, even if she was a trans werewolf and still had a dick. They’d both thought Sonya’s pill would take care of things. They’d briefly discussed using condoms too, but Sonya privately thought at the time that that was overkill. Maxine liked teasing herself with a condom now and then, but as a form of birth control, they were weren’t all that reliable.
They only succeed sixty percent of the time… but maybe I should have banked on that extra sixty percent.
She made an exasperated noise, very quietly.
The only thing that is Maxine’s fault, partially at least, is how infrequently I see her.
She’d long ago stopped tripping over the idea of calling Maxine, a male-to-female transgender werewolf, “she.” Not even thinking of her mate’s cock, as she did often while masturbating, could cause her confusion. Maxine was so utterly female, mind and spirit, that male genitals couldn’t change her essential nature.
Sonya walked into the bedroom she and her mate shared and went to her side of the wall-length closet. She took off the striped shirt she’d been wearing and put on a sweater with a cowl neck. It was a soft orange that complemented her medium brown skin tone and had the added bonus of clinging to her curves in all the right places.
Too bad Maxine isn’t here to appreciate it. She sighed noisily and then covered her mouth and glanced around, almost expecting half a dozen werewolves to pop out of the woodwork and ask her what was wrong. She kept her SearchLight-won shields in place most of the time, and her lips shut almost as much, but she still felt as if the whole darn pack could read her like a book.
Those shields were something she’d picked up at the academy in DC, learning them from the parapsychology teacher. She didn’t use them much at work, at least not when she was relaxed and in her own domain — the medtech department. But with all the psychic powers boasted by the members of her new eros pack, she felt on edge if her mind wasn’t guarded.
Shaking her head, grimacing as she thought of how paranoid she’d gotten over the past two weeks, Sonya headed into the living room to sit at the desk Maxine had bought her as a mating ceremony present back in late September. It was now the first week of October and she did not need to be worrying about pregnancy when her first dissertation defense was happening in less than seven days and she hadn’t seen her mate for more than a few minutes at a time since they consummated their relationship.
And while that was the worst of it, not being with her mate, her third problem was almost as pressing: three of the werewolves in her new pack were openly hostile toward her. Oh, not where Maxine, who outranked all of them, could see, but whenever they caught Sonya alone…
Oh, stop thinking about it all in such negative terms. They’re just pests. And as for Maxine, she sleeps here every night she’s in town, doesn’t she? You’ve made love four times so far. That’s good for two weeks’ worth of living together, isn’t it?
Well, actually, no. Sonya had gotten the impression from listening to her friend, Luke, talk about his early relationship with his husband that sex every day wasn’t uncommon. In fact, the only time her genie and dragon friends hadn’t managed sex at least three or four times a week was when Mark, the dragon half of the pairing, was in crisis.
Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender erotica. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires.
