Bind Me, Sir by Lynn Burke #BDSM #NewRelease #billionaire #RomanceBooks #eroticromance @AuthorLynnBurke

Bind Me, Sir

Bonds of Worship 1

By Lynn Burke

Release Date: September 3, 2019

#BDSM #Erotic #Romance #Billionaire #Series #HEA

Blurb:

As part of the British peerage, Jordan Graystone knows what it’s like to live in the public eye. Which is why he holds hard limits when it comes to scening with submissives—no kissing, no penetration. Both lead to unwanted emotions and women attempting to take more than he’s willing to give.

Entrusted with the care of raising her younger sister is a responsibility Natalie Perez doesn’t take lightly. She focuses solely on her troubled ward, putting aside her own desires even when confronted with the temptation Jordan promises—fulfilling her fantasies to be bound and worshiped upon an old church’s altar.

Secretly snapping a photo ends in a confrontation that arouses Natalie to the point of turmoil—and Jordan past the point of caring about limits. He’s determined to give Natalie the release she needs, but her obligation threatens to rip apart his plans for more than their agreed upon one night.

Will Natalie’s selfless dedication to her sister be the key to bind her and Jordan together or the fault that tears them apart?

​PURCHASE LINKS:

Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/BINDMESIR

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1132958903

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/bind-me-sir

iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/bind-me-sir/id1477095020

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/953733

Books2Read Universal: https://books2read.com/bindmesirbow1

GOODREADS LINKS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/47870665-bind-me-sir


EXCERPT:

A flick of the lights flooded the room in brightness, and I blinked until he dimmed them enough I could glance around the church’s interior. It appeared the same as the first time I’d trespassed—dark and seductive, the excitement of the unknown heightening my pulse and breath.

Jordan released my hand, and I clutched my arms around my middle as he flipped the switch on a lone electric candle in the front window.

“To let others know the church is occupied,” he explained once he turned to find my brow furrowed in question. He took his time lighting candles around the room, and eventually flicked off the dimmed overhead lights and stood before me.

A shudder rippled over me at the look in his eyes, a darker blue, like the sky at twilight, full of unknown, lurking shadows. He stared at my lips and tugged me close. I dropped my arms to my sides, unsure of what to do but trusting him to tell me.

“We need to talk about a few things first, okay, love?”

The pet name, the accent in his low tone, nearly buckled my knees. I managed a nod, swallowing against the dryness in my throat as I stared at his lips.

“Do you have any experience in this lifestyle?”

I shook my head.

“Are you a virgin?”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and even though I’d only experienced sex a handful of times, I’d never enjoyed it as the women in the eBooks Lily insisted I read. I shook my head once more, too embarrassed to admit the truth of my lackluster sex life.

“Do you know what a safeword is?” he continued with the questioning, and my face heated even more at memories of the last book I’d devoured the evening before.

“Like traffic lights?” I whispered.

A twinkle lit in his eyes. “Yes. Tell me what each color means.”

“Green means go.” I swallowed. “Yellow is slow down, I need to think. Red means stop.”

He nodded. “You’re in control, Natalie. I will learn your body, your tells, but you decide what will or won’t happen tonight, okay, love?”

He would learn my body…

God, yes.

I nodded.

“Tell me—” Jordan turned me to face the room, his hands on my waist as he pressed against my back, his chin on my shoulder “—what part of this room excites you the most?”

Gulping, I glanced at the altar. “Everything,” I whispered rather than admit to the truth.

“Instruments of pain?”

The rack of items including a crop and flogger snagged my attention, but I wasn’t sure about pain other than the idea of his hand prints on my backside.

“The cross?”

I eyed the St. Andrew’s cross, flinching at the memory of a woman I’d read about being strapped to such a contraption, angry red marks across her thighs and lower back.

“The bed?”

Rings on the sturdy posts drew my focus, and I licked my lower lip.

“The altar?”

My breath caught, nipples aching as I studied the table meant for worshiping God and the ungodly images flashing in my head of being tied down—open and unable to move. Bound for a dominant’s pleasure—Jordan’s pleasure.

“Mmm.” His hot breath caressed my ear. “You do want to be strapped down to the altar, don’t you?”

I jerked my head in agreement, a million butterflies fluttering my stomach.

Jordan steered me closer with his hands on my hips, stopping me right in front of the padded altar. Coils of rope sat atop it, and I gulped at the thought of abrasions on my wrists and ankles—not that I had any intention of fighting whatever he wished to do to me.

“Tell me what you want, Natalie,” he said, his breath once again hot against my ear.

Dare I? I hesitated, embarrassed to admit what I’d fantasized about. My gaze flitted to the bed once more and the lengths of black silk draped over the bed’s foot.

“Answer me.”

I jerked my focus back on the altar and flicked my tongue out to moisten my lips. “Bind me, Sir.”

© Lynn Burke 2019

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:

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.

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Lynn-Burke-555282497937461/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlynnburke/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lynn-burke

Well Endowed by Tina Donahue #PNR #NewRelease #RomCom

Ever wonder what it would be like to have your own jinn? Great, huh? The wishes. The riches. The problems.

Yep. That’s what Cari faces when she inherits Jez. As an alpha jinn, he refuses to serve anyone but a man. As far as he’s concerned, she’s only good for some hot and heavy loving.

Hmm. She believes otherwise and shows him just who has the upper hand.

Let the battle of the sexes begin…

Where there’s a will, there’s wicked fun… 

 

Drowning in bad luck, Cari doesn’t know where to turn when the unexpected happens. A loyal customer at her Key West café has left her an inheritance. She hopes for cash to save her restaurant but receives an old brass bottle that looks like a sex toy…and has Jez inside. 

At six-four, he’s built like a gladiator, has looks to die for, and oozes sexuality. He’s also a jinn. 

Color her enthralled and excited. Besides being one hot dude, he grants wishes, right? 

 

Not for her. Ironclad tradition demands he serve men, not women. Of course, if she wants to get down and dirty with him, he’ll gladly oblige. 

 

Let the battle of the sexes begin. Before long, their differences fall away as they indulge in every lusty desire, while falling hard and fast. Ah, paradise. Until trouble arrives, threatening to pull them apart forever…

 

EXTASY  |  AMAZON  |  BARNES & NOBLE  |  KOBO

 

 

Excerpt:

 

She couldn’t wait a second longer and twisted the knob to open the container.

 

The top didn’t budge.

 

She tried repeatedly until she was breathless and sweating.

 

The fucking thing wouldn’t turn. The nicks and dents she’d noticed earlier proved to be pry marks around the top that resembled the crown on a man’s cock.

 

“Crap.” She wasn’t equipped to break this thing or saw it open.

 

After searching her kitchen for something to use, she settled on rubber gloves to add traction to her grip. With her thighs holding the bottle, she wrenched the top as hard as her strength allowed.

 

The knob not only loosened, but flew off—similar to a cork on a champagne bottle—and hit her wall, denting the plaster.

 

There goes my security deposit.

 

Hold on.

 

By itself, the bottle trembled between her thighs, the metal growing warmer. Not an unpleasant feeling, but fucking weird. 

 

Appalled, she flung the container on her table.

 

It thudded dully against her purse and shook violently.

 

“Shit, shit, shit!” The damn thing was going to blow. Her spicy, rich cooking must have pushed Ethyl into an earlier grave than she wanted, and this was payback. Terrified, Cari dropped to her knees, desperate to crawl to the door and outside. Frozen in horror, she hunkered behind a chair for protection.

 

Thunder roared.

 

Gold-and-black smoke poured from the bottle.

 

I’m going to die.

 

Hard rain struck the windows, but they didn’t blow out from an explosion.

 

Rather than the smoke rising to the ceiling, it curled in a slow spiral then drifted away from the table to her side.

 

Shuddering, she crab-walked away from it.

 

The smoke followed and took form.

 

Feet appeared first, at least a size fifteen, the toes well-formed and long. Muscular calves and thighs materialized next, dark hairs hugging them, the complexion olive.

 

She stopped edging back and leaned forward instead.

 

Upper thighs and narrow hips emerged, a startling-white fabric tied around the groin area, the ends hiding the good stuff. Not a loincloth exactly, more like a scarf exposing a rock-hard ass. 

The abs and chest were no different, each sculpted, the small nipples a dark brown shade, similar in color to refried beans. The pecs quivered on each new breath. However, there was no navel.

 

This can’t be happening.

 

She raised her face.

 

The smoke broke apart, floated to the ceiling, and disappeared.

 

Leaving a thirtysomething man standing before her.

 

He opened his lushly lashed eyes.

 

Her breath caught. His irises were closer to gold than hazel, his shoulder-length brown hair thick and wavy, stubble outrageously sexy, mouth sensuous, one dark eyebrow arched at her.

 

He planted his hands on his lean hips.

 

Holy fuck. A gladiator couldn’t have owned more muscles, though they weren’t overdone like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s, but totally male.

 

Her pussy creamed.

 

An odd reaction since this couldn’t be real.

 

When the knob flew off the bottle, it must have ricocheted off the wall and hit her head, causing her to hallucinate this, or rather, him.

 

Only one way to find out. She grabbed his calf. Its brawn and heat made her ears buzz.

Grinning lewdly, he flexed his muscles and pressed into her touch.

 

This was no dream. She snatched back her hand. “Who-who-who-who—” She shivered so badly, she couldn’t speak, but had to. “Who are you? What are you?”

 

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He lifted his chin. “You, a mere woman, dare to question or demand anything from me?”

 

“Huh?” Not liking his sexist attitude, she scrambled to her feet. At five-seven, she couldn’t match his height. By her guestimate, he topped out at six-four and was the most perfect man she’d ever seen, except for his patronizing gaze. Precisely what she didn’t need. “Again, who or what are you? This is my place. My kitchen. Not yours. Answer me.”

 

“I answer only to my master. Go on.” He gestured her away as Antonini had. “Fetch the man in charge.”

 

As if. Before she could slug him, he pivoted and regarded her kitchen warily, as a one-percenter would, seeing only how small and simple it was.

 

She couldn’t have cared less if he found her digs lacking.

 

He next focused on her buñuelos.

 

If he gave them a pissy look or said one unkind thing about her cooking, he wasn’t long for this world, even if she didn’t know how to off him.

 

Bent at the waist, he sniffed the treats and licked his lips.

 

Growling sounded.

 

His stomach?

 

Holding one buñuelo between his thumb and forefinger, he examined the fried dough carefully, licked the contours, then popped the treat into his mouth. As he chewed, his lids slid down and he moaned the way guys do during orgasms.

 

 

 

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Dreams and Lovers (Duet) by Willa Okati #boxset #PNR #GayRomance @willaokati @changelingpress

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

What if saying goodbye to all you ever thought you were sure of is only the first part of hello?

Lovers, Dreamers, and Me: Tolliver’s buried his life in taking care of his sister and the bookstore his grandmother left him. That doesn’t leave much time for romance. Sarah, his sister, decides to do a little matchmaking. Only her choice is another man, and Tolliver’s not gay! Noble’s not, either, but he is deeply attracted to Tolliver, and he’s not above using his psychic gifts to draw them together. The road to discovery has more twists and turns — and toys — than even he ever dreamed.

The First Hello: Shawn Tillerman thinks he’s losing his mind. Wary and damaged after a hard life filled with broken promises, he’s been having flashes of lives he didn’t live. He hasn’t told anyone what’s happening to him — he’s too busy keeping his twin sister away from Oxy. If he can sell the house he’s inherited, he can turn their lives around. Or not. Because Raleigh, the compelling stranger who wants their house, swears Shawn’s reliving memories. That he’s the man from Shawn’s dreams. Shawn doesn’t believe Raleigh — but he’s beginning to wish he could.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

Also Available in Print

 

or Pre-Order at retailers for September 6th

   

 

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Willa Okati
Excerpt from Lovers, Dreamers and Me

It wasn’t love at first sight.

Sarah, Tolliver’s kid sister, saw him first. Perched on the Old Curiosity checkout counter doing her homework, she swung her heels and nudged Tolliver with the toe of her sneaker. “Incoming customer.”

Tolliver reluctantly turned away from the page of the old book he’d been halfway through, its faded type and strange serifs tempting him back in. “I got it. Keep working.” He closed the book and lifted his chin in the customer’s direction, his eyes still on the book’s worn leather cover. “Can I help you?”

“Hope so,” the man said, his voice a deep, melodious tenor that shaded toward baritone. “I was told you might have some hard to find tarot decks in stock. There’s one, a local artist — Judy Schuyler. She did an abstract Impressionism set. Do you have that deck?”

“We might have sold hers,” Tolliver said, not really paying attention to the guy and registering no more than a vague impression of height, tousled brown hair, and bare arms. He kept one eye on the flyleaf of the 1891 edition of Great Expectations, pencil poised to sketch his reseller’s price. Amazing. He almost wanted to keep this one for himself.

“Can you check?” The customer was persistent, and patiently unruffled. “Maybe for Sharice Donough, too? She’s not local, but she did a mountain music inspired. There’s a stringed instrument on the front –”

“Right. It was a mandolin, I think?” He’d caught Tolliver’s attention at last. Tolliver reached for an inventory log, still kept on paper for the most part — he was a traditionalist — and started flipping through pages. “I’d swear I remember getting one of those last year. Wait. Do you mean the Wisconsin Sharice or the Montauk Falls Donough?”

Tolliver’s fingers slipped on the light-lead pencil he held and sent it clattering to the floor. “Sorry, let me get that.”

“No problem,” the customer answered, his stance relaxed. “I’m not in a rush.”

Tolliver crouched, scanning the flotsam and jetsam he kept stashed under the old four legged breakfront he used as a checkout counter. “Did you check in the glass cases on the back wall?” he called. “Ha. There you are.” The pencil had come to a stop halfway in, halfway out of the desk’s boundaries.

“Hang on, I think I see it.” The tip of a sneaker, encasing a foot of amazing length, prodded the pencil. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Tolliver had reached for the pencil at the same time. Together, they sent it skittering across the shop floor.

“I’ve got it,” the customer said, rich amusement lacing his tone. He crouched. “Do you always work this hard for this little?”

“I pay attention to detail,” Tolliver replied, slightly annoyed. He caught a glimpse of long, tapered fingers with solid knuckles snaffling the pencil.

He stood, brushing the layer of dust he’d acquired down there off the knees of his khakis and reached, still not looking, for the pencil. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” The customer tipped his head to one side and studied Tolliver. Tolliver noticed, sort of, the lionlike amber of his eyes and the generous width of a smile over white teeth. “The Schuyler?”

“Back wall, glass case,” Tolliver said, already drawn back to the Dickens. He ran his fingers reverently over the binding. Ruined from years of handling, but a piece of history all the same. “What you see is what we’ve got. If it’s not there, sorry, you’re out of luck.”

The customer laughed, low and rolling.

Tolliver frowned up at him over the book. “What?”

“It’s nothing.” The customer swung around, loose limbed and graceful, and tossed a casual wave at him.

“No, what?” Tolliver held his pencil point down on the counter. “Share the joke.”

The customer shrugged and half turned, the leonine cast to his features shadowed. “I’d heard the owner of Old Curiosity was cranky, but it was still worth shopping here. You never know what you’re going to find.” His grin was still bright. “Back wall?”

“Back wall,” Tolliver confirmed, frowning. He kept an eye on the customer as the man ambled away, long feet, lengthy stretch of legs, and arms held loosely comfortable at his sides, thumbs tucked into his belt loops.

Weird guy.

So, no. Not love at first sight.

Intrigue, though. That was part of it.

More from Willa at Changeling Press …

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.

You can reach Willa at willaokati@gmail.com.

Join Willa on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/willa.okati

 

 

 

Technical Difficulties by Emily Carrington #ActionAdventure #PNR #UrbanFantasy #interracial #LGBTQ @CarringtonEmily @changelingpress

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Sonya is straight. She’s also terrified of werewolves. So, when she’s forced to work with a male-to-female transgender wolf, the last thing she expects is to fall in love. But, hey, not so fast. Falling in love with a werewolf means living in her pack, where first-time sex equals mating. For life.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

 

or Pre-Order at retailers for September 6th

   

 

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

The dragon had been brutalized. As Medical Technician Sonya Johnson worked over the corpse, she couldn’t miss the signs. The poor dragon-in-human-guise was female. She’d given birth recently. Her distended stomach, open cervix, and other signs all bore witness to this.

Sonya whispered, “I think you were dead when most of these were inflicted.” She’d quickly discovered the cause of death: a crushed skull that had occurred while the dragon was in human form. Now all she wanted was to be done chronicling the postmortem atrocities and see to it that the poor soul had a decent burial.

Sonya smiled just a little. Thinking of any dragon as a “poor soul” was a little like calling a lion a kitty cat. Dragons, like werewolves, she thought with a shudder, were known for taking care of themselves. Both apex predators of the magical world, for slightly different reasons, they were treated with respect and almost obsessive politeness by other magical beings and the few humans unlucky enough to know about their existence.

“Humans like me.” Her smile was gone as she finished cataloging the last injury. Shaking her head, Sonya covered the body with a sheet and left the autopsy room. She locked the door before heading into her office.

All right, so it wasn’t technically “her” office any more than the autopsy room belonged to her. But she thought of both as her property because she spent more time in them than anyone else. That was thanks to the doctoral-level degree she was seeking from SearchLight Academy in Reptilian Magical Creatures: Treatment and Dissection. Unlike those who studied humans, magical creature experts were expected to have a wider knowledge base. The closest comparison Sonya could make was a general-practice physician. And even they weren’t responsible for both the living and the dead.

She had just finished her second year of postgraduate work. It was May. She had a blissful ten weeks off for the summer. Of course, she was still expected to work on her dissertation, so “rest” wasn’t in her vocabulary. But she wouldn’t be attending biweekly meetings with this or that professor to discuss her research. She might even have considered a week away from the city of Tampa, where she worked, and its lesser cousin, the city of St. Petersburg, where she lived. But she hadn’t scheduled any time off because she’d been too fixated on her dissertation to think beyond the next few days.

Someone knocked on the office door. Not closed completely and made of a light pressboard, the door opened a little more. Sonya caught sight of a skirt in a bold print and a tapered shoe. She called, “Come in.”

A woman stepped inside, saying simply “Sorry to disturb you” — and Sonya’s mind went sideways. Not because there was anything particularly wrong with the voice. It was just that she wasn’t used to hearing a slightly male-sounding voice coming out of a woman’s body.

Transgender. That’s what they call themselves. And, on the heels of that, I hate it when someone says “they” about my people so I will not start out by thinking of this person as a part of “they.” She’s dressed as a woman. I’ll call her “her.”

“Um,” she said uncomfortably, “you’re not. Please sit down.”

The transgender person — the woman, Sonya scolded herself — didn’t sit. Neither did she shut the door. “Thanks, but…” She looked briefly discomfited. “I’m Agent Brown. Maxine.”

That surely wasn’t the name you were born with. Oh, shut the fuck up! She doesn’t want you staring, and you will get over yourself.

Sonya realized Maxine was waiting for a response. Her small, delicate and frankly attractive nose was turning slightly red, just like Sonya’s did when she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said, rising and extending her hand. “I’m Sonya Johnson, one of the medical techs.”

The moment their hands touched, the hair on the back of Sonya’s neck stood up. She pulled back rather quickly. “Um… um…” She looked away from the hand she’d shaken and into eyes that were startling in their beauty. Honey-brown and shadowed by long, thick lashes, they took Sonya’s breath away. She forgot for a moment that her neck was prickling and smiled. “How may I help you?”

Maxine, who had taken a step forward to grip Sonya’s hand, retreated at least that far. “Agent Wellington wants to see you when it’s convenient.” She hesitated before adding, “He’s the head of Werewolf Watch.”

Sonya shivered. She couldn’t help herself. She hated werewolves. They were the craziest, most terrifying — Oh, get ahold of yourself. If you’re being called, you specifically… She met Maxine’s eyes. “You are looking for me, right? Because Jenny Davis could –”

“I’m sorry. He wants you personally.” She really did look empathetic. “If it helps, it will just be him, you, and me in a large conference room.”

Sonya’s particular skills were needed. She specialized in dragons and basilisks. What could she possibly do for a werewolf? Because Wellington had to be a werewolf. Unlike in the Department of Dragons, with which Sonya worked on a regular basis, Werewolf Watch was stuffed to capacity with, well, what else? Werewolves.

Shit. That probably means this woman is a werewolf. She looked directly into Maxine’s eyes, needing to know. “You’re a werewolf too?”

Maxine nodded. “Agent Wellington said to tell you he understands your circumstances, whatever those are, and that he wouldn’t call for you unless it was absolutely necessary. He also promises you can have a large conference room and it will only be the three of us; Agent Wellington, you, and me. We want to make you as comfortable as possible.”

Whatever those are. She doesn’t know. Sonya felt a little better. “Can he give me fifteen minutes to… to…” She glanced down at her report. To finish my work flashed across her mind, but it would take at least two hours to do that.

“I’ll tell him you’ll be up in thirty,” Maxine said gently.

Feeling a little more comforted, Sonya said, “Thank you. I’ll be up soon.”

Maxine left, closing the door behind her. Black, like me. But transgender and werewolf. The three modifiers to the name Agent Maxine Brown hit one right after the other. Sonya sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands. If she was going to have a prayer of working with werewolves…

More from Emily at Changeling Press …

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.

Website: http://emilycarrington.com

Blog:http://goodreads.com/author/show/4619715.Emily_Carrington

 

 

The Case of the Deadly Arrow Part 2 by Stephanie Burke #ActionAdventure #PNR #UrbanFantasy #interracial @Flashycat @changelingpress

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Mai becomes trapped in a deadly game with an assassin as she tries to get rid of the riots on her doorstep and understand the beast within her, with the intimate help of a Dryad named Ptris. Can she maintain her relationship with her Gremlin Ry-Ry and uncover the mysteries of the deadly arrows before one of them hits their target?

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

 

or Pre-Order at retailers for September 6th

 

   

 

 

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Stephanie Burke

“So… I take that to mean that someone is trying to kill me… outside of being mad about the riots.” They had untangled themselves from the massive people pile on the floor and Mai was now staring at the flaming arrow in her television set.

“Well, I never liked to watch much TV anyway,” she muttered, grateful that the sparking and hissing had stopped. “Ry will be devastated. What’s he going to watch soccer on now?”

In truth, Mai was shaken. A lot of really bad things had just happened to her in a really short amount of time. She was standing there calmly taking about current events in her life when in actuality, she wanted to hide someplace, preferably with a bottle of rum and a dangerous but sweet, hard-to-kill Gremlin. So… seeing that none of these things were possible right now, Mai was stuck trying to hold it together with two detectives, a Dryad, and an Asshole staring at her like she was going crazy.

“It’s football,” Ptris finally spoke as he moved beside her and placed one heavy hand on her shoulder. “Americans don’t have to take everything they see and rebrand it. It’s football because you pass the ball around with your feet.”

Maria was snapping photos and The Asshole was sitting in a chair, looking like she really would rather be someplace else.

“Football is a man’s sport,” Evan countered, moving to Mai’s other side, his calmness seeming to Mai to be a bit unnatural. “Full-out gladiator blood sport that is dangerous, exciting, and fun.”

“That would be rugby,” Ptris corrected, “If you are claiming human sports. No pads, blood and grit, a man’s game to be sure.”

“Human games?” Mai asked, having a feeling she was going to regret that question, but anything was better than staring at the fucking flaming arrow stuck in her TV. She pulled her attention away from near sudden death and turned it on her Dryad. He was talking about sports right now… If this was a ploy to stop her from thinking about her burning, painful near-death, it was working. Oddly enough, she had to know more.

“We had a game played in the Unseelie Courts, Blashavah.”

“Blashavah?” Evan snorted. “Sounds like an exotic rash.”

“It is a time-honored game of endurance and perseverance. The players, seven on each team and five teams in total, strip down to their skin. They pummel each other with blunted pikes to be the first to capture a Shavah, a venomous rabid female miniature dragonling that is bespelled not to fly higher than ten feet. But as it is a land dragonling, its preferred method of escape is to burrow into any hole it finds, including holes in live bodies. The first team to capture the creature with the most mobile players at the end wins.”

Evan looked interested. Mai felt sick. Ptris stood there, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“You are making that up,” Mai finally accused, narrowing her eyes at the Dryad. “No way…”

“It is a violent and very exciting game,” Ptris defended.

“That sounds interesting,” Evan finally spoke, his eyes lit with the fire of a new blood sport. “How often do they play?”

“Usually during festivals, feasts, fetes, and before important political discussions with other courts in the realms. It is a celebration of life and a show of strength to those leaders watching.”

“A glimpse of an army and a taste of what they are capable of before you decide to go to battle.” Evan pursed his lips while nodding his head. “Slick. I bet that prevented a whole lot of wars.”

“Or at least made those hungry for the taste of blood and steel to reevaluate their decisions and act wisely and accordingly.”

“And they are completely naked?” Mai wrinkled her nose. “Everything just… hanging out? No protection at all?”

“It keeps the players attentive and cooperative. They must watch each other’s flanks as well as fight for the goal.”

“Cooperation and comparative skills building, Mai. We should adopt something similar before every meeting with other competitive countries. Give them something to think about instead of sending young people off to war while they sit in air conditioned offices calling the shots.”

“But… naked?” Mai could not get that picture out of her head. There were too many dangly parts on men and women to be running around on a field, dodging spears and trying to capture a slurping, poisonous lizard that could fly and liked to hide in holes. She looked down at her boobs and shook her head. No fucking way. The pain alone would bring her to her knees.

“Well, they are allowed gloves.”

“Gloves?” Mai asked, dividing her attention and her incredulous looks between Evan and Ptris.

“You don’t want to lose a finger. If the Shavah bites parts off, it is very hard to reattach them. The best swordsmen maintain all of their fingers. Fae-made digits are fine replacements, but tend to not function as smoothly the digits you are born with.”

“Just the fingers?” Mai had to ask. She had to go there. But there were a lot of dangly parts on a body. “What if something else gets bitten off?”

“Replacements can be made,” Ptris assured her. “It is a mark of honor and courage to have a penis removed in combat. The golden ones they replace them with are said to be better than what the God and Goddess intended and fertility is not affected.”

“I bet John Bobbitt wishes he’d had that option.” Evan chuckled and Mai rolled her eyes. Men. It was a universal thing that their most precious body part was improved upon and they were given honors for being stupid enough to have it bitten off in the first place.

“They replace breasts as well,” Ptris pointed out, and everyone stared at him in silent shock. “Fae warriors are also female, and every other gender besides.”

“Your women fight in active combat and in blood sport games?” Evan looked like he was in awe. Maria, who had finally stopped taking photos and phone calls, looked interested.

“A strong sword at your back holds no gender. That is one thing that always annoyed me about humanity. You leave half of your warriors at home, some even unable to defend themselves, while you go off to war. Your women are just as capable of wholesale slaughter as your men, and in fact, some are more dangerous than your decorated soldiers. And you kill with projectile weapons. Most of your soldiers never see hand-to-hand combat at all. I knew of several human females who could defeat your male fighters without undue stress or increased breathing rates.”

“One for femininity!” Maria gave a little cheer. The Asshole looked a bit more uncomfortable, sulking in a chair and wearing the remains of her hot chocolate.

“We honor our warriors of all genders and species.” Ptris was on a roll. “Which is why I don’t understand humanity’s problem with race. The weather conditions in the place of your ancestors’ origins has no bearing on your ability to function and add to your society as a whole. The way your ancestors’ skin adapted for survival in harsh climes does not affect brain function, ability, heart, strength, nerves, cunning… It is a waste of intelligent brains and capable minds to kill over such a trivial thing. Humans confuse me.”

“They confuse me too,” Mai agreed. “I never understood that.”

“You are Fae,” Ptris summed it up nicely.

More from Stephanie at Changeling Press …

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

Blog: https://theflashcat.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

Intergalactic Brides Vol. 3 by Jessica Coulter Smith #scifi #aliens #SFR

Three sexy aliens and the women who can’t resist them —
an unexpected out of this world romance.

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox

 

Caitlyn and the Alien Protector: From hot, sexy, and available to single dad, this firefighter’s life’s going up in smoke. What could go wrong with a convenient arrangement with a hunky alien and his adorable daughter? Caitlyn was only looking for a place to crash, in exchange for watching the cute little half-alien girl. She’s been burned by love before, but soon it’s not just the little girl who’s taken her heart — it’s Cosmir as well.

Celeste and the Alien Bartender: A desperate mother. A determined alien. And a romance neither expected. Aliens ruined Celeste’s life, stole her child, and then dumped her back on her world. But she refuses to give up on getting her daughter back, at any cost — even if it means pairing up with sexy alien, Zanar. She just never counted on falling for him.

Rory and the Alien Groom: Rory’s been watching from the sidelines. Now it’s time to go after what she wants – and she wants Zwyk! Rory never wanted to be the one to tell the alien, Zwyk, his bride had run out on him. Rory’s been head over heels for him from the beginning. Maybe now he’ll see what’s been under his nose the entire time — her!

 

also in Paperback!

or pre-order at retailers for August 30th

 

   

 

EXCERPT

Caitlyn and the Alien Protector (Intergalactic Brides 7)
Jessica Coulter Smith
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Jessica Coulter Smith

At the fire station, Cosmir stripped out of his bunker gear and hung it up, leaving his steel-toed boots under the coat and pants. In his bare feet, he went to the bathroom, stopping long enough to get his shampoo and shower gel, and lucked into getting one of the shower stalls. After being surrounded by flames, the cool water felt good on his heated skin. He braced a lavender hand on the tiled wall and let the water sluice over his head and down his back. It didn’t take long to scrub his hair and body, and he had to admit he felt a million times better when he was finished. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he went to his locker and pulled on a fresh uniform.

“So,” Jake said. “This was your first major fire since joining the department. I’d say you’ve been a lucky bastard that all the major fires have happened on the other shift, but you seemed to enjoy running into that building. Still think this is the life you want?”

Cosmir grinned. “Definitely. Even if I did only rescue kittens this time, it still felt nice to make a difference. I’m used to defending my world, protecting those weaker than me when needed. When I realized I was going to make Earth my semi-permanent home, I knew I wanted a job where I could make a difference.”

“You were a warrior though, right? Why not become a cop?”

“I actually know someone who did exactly that, but it didn’t feel like a good fit for me. I don’t want to see the worst of humanity every day. Yes, some of the fires we go to were set on purpose, but mostly they’re accidents.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“I guess it depends. Are you going to ask if aliens are anatomically the same as humans? Because I’ve heard that one a lot.”

Jake snickered. “No, but I’m hoping you are. Your kind has a mating instead of a marriage right?”

Cosmir nodded.

“And you mate for life?”

“Yes, but you’re not my type.”

Jake’s smile broadened. “No worries. You aren’t my type either. But… I think you just may be perfect for –“

“Jake!”

Cosmir turned toward the very feminine voice and nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the ebony haired beauty heading their way. The sway of her hips drew his gaze as she sauntered toward them on metallic colored sandals. Her shorts rode low on her hips and left little to the imagination. Where had this goddess been in his entire life?

“Caitlyn. What are you doing at the station?” Jake asked.

“I can’t just surprise my big brother when I’m in the area?” Her gaze scanned Cosmir before a naughty smile flitted across her lips. Before he had time to react, she threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his mouth.

Her tongue flicked his lower lip and he opened to let her in. The taste of her exploded on his tongue and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter against him. Warning bells were going off in his head that he was in danger of imminent meltdown, but damn, the woman could kiss!

She pulled away, a satisfied grin on her face as she turned to face Jake again.

Jake shook his head. “Well, since you’re here, I’d like to introduce you to Cosmir. He’s the Terran I’ve mentioned before.” His lips tipped up on one corner. “Besides, you might as well know the name of the man you just swapped spit with. Don’t you usually at least get their names first?”

Caitlyn held out a dainty hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

As Cosmir’s hand folded around hers, he felt a jolt that started in his chest and rapidly moved below the belt. Her blue eyes gazed up at him while a gentle smile curved her lips. She was breathtaking, and suddenly he didn’t have a clue what to say. Odd. It wasn’t like he’d never been around women, even if it had been nearly a year since he’d been intimate with one. “The pleasure is all mine,” he rumbled, finally finding his tongue, and quite reluctant to let go of her hand.

“I haven’t seen you at any of Jake’s parties,” Caitlyn said. “Not much of a party animal?”

Cosmir smiled. “Not really.” But if she was going to be at those parties, he’d have to make an effort to be there. Watching her smile was worth a little suffering.

 

More from Jessica at Changeling Press …

Award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith has been in love with the written word since she was a child writing her first stories in crayon. Today she’s a multi-published author of over seventy-five novellas and novels. Romance is an integral part of her world and she firmly believes that love will find you at the right time, even if Mr. Right is literally out of this world.

Find Jessica on Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / jessicacoultersmith.com.

 

 

Mysti and Starr by Kate Hill #ActionAdventure #PNR #UrbanFantasy #NewRelease @katehillromance

Family magic summons Mysti Wild to her destined mate–
a demon hunting biker with secrets of his own.

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

A blazing trail only he can see leads demon hunting biker Starr Johanson to his destined mate. A blessing placed on her family’s ancestral land summons Mysti Wild to the cabin where she’ll meet the man fated to share her life.

Each fears the other will be frightened by magic they don’t understand, but they quickly learn to trust each other, because no one can resist the person they were born to love.

 

or pre-order for August 30th at retailers

 

   

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Hill

New Hampshire, 2019

The road Starr traveled wound along the tree-covered mountains. He had been riding for too long and felt almost lulled by the rhythm of the bike. By the look of the darkening sky, he’d need to find a place to camp soon, but he had a little longer to go. He was almost at his destination.

A flash of lightning in the distance prompted him to give the bike more gas. He finally pulled over and walked the bike down a narrow path into the woods. It didn’t look like a manmade path, but it was meant for him. The drizzling rain had turned into a downpour before he found a place to camp.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been alone in the middle of nowhere. Starr liked being on his own sometimes, but he rarely had time for that luxury.

The woods were nearly dark as night now, except for blinding flashes of lightning. Starr was thoroughly soaked from rain and had been nearly deafened by thunder. Storms always seemed worse in the mountains. He hurried to unpack his meager equipment.

Lightning flashed and a nearby tree crashed to the ground. Starr’s heart pounded and he backed away fast. That was too close for —

Starr slipped and tumbled down a rocky, leaf-strewn decline. For several seconds he could only grunt and try to roll with the fall. He landed on his stomach, the wind momentarily knocked out of him. He tasted blood and spat a mouthful while pushing himself to his hands and knees. From what he could tell, he had cuts and bruises, but no breaks.

Blinded by rain and wind, he glanced around, dazed. He started climbing up the slippery incline, but fell again. Maybe it was an optical illusion, but he thought a path led off to his left. Starr tried to calm his mind and listen for guidance. Instinct told him to try the path, illusion or not, and he had long ago learned to listen to his instincts.

He took a step and his ankle nearly buckled.

Great.

He pushed forward as quickly and carefully as he could with a sprained ankle.
Something too warm for rain trickled down the back of his neck. He swiped it and looked at his bloodstained hand. Rain pelted it, diluting the blood. Dragging his hand along his denim-clad thigh, he limped on.

Squinting through the storm, he noticed a clearing in the distance, surrounding a lake or bay.

“Hey!”

That wasn’t a spirit voice, but human.

“Hey, you! Dude!”

Starr turned and saw a woman approaching. She wore a yellow fisherman-style raincoat and hat that left half her face in shadow.

She approached and Starr hobbled toward her.

“Hi,” he said. When she tilted her amber gaze to his, Starr’s heart skipped a beat.
He smiled faintly.

So she’s why I’m here.

Still staring at him, she swallowed and drew a deep breath through parted lips.
“We’d better get inside before we get struck or something,” she said, glancing around and jumping a bit when sheet lighting illuminated the woods.

“Inside where?” Starr demanded.

“My cabin. This way.” She left at a run and Starr hopped after her. Pain shot through his ankle and up his leg with every step.

The woman turned, looking frustrated, and ran back to him. “Sorry. You’re hurt. The cabin is right up there. Shit!” She jumped again when more lightning struck.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll catch up.”

“Lean on me.” She stepped closer, wedging her firm little body against his and wrapping an arm snugly around his waist. He draped his arm over her shoulder and she said, “Let’s go.”

Hopping on one foot was easier with her to steady him. Before Starr knew it, they’d reached the cabin. It was warm from the fire burning in the living room hearth. To his right was a pantry and kitchen and to his left a wooden staircase leading to a loft.

“Come and sit,” she said, slipping away from him to remove her hat and coat and hang them on a nearby hook. “I’ll get my first aid kit.”

Starr took off his jacket and hung it on another hook before limping to the couch. It was soft and covered with a plaid quilt. Soaked and bleeding as he was, he’d mess it up.

“Why are you still standing?” she asked, approaching with towels and a first aid kit.
She was cute. No makeup. Big amber eyes. A longish nose and lips that he already wanted to kiss. Her dark, curly hair was tied in a loose bun on top of her head.

“I’m wet and bleeding,” Starr said, again reaching for the back of his neck where blood still trickled steadily.

“Which is why you need to sit your butt down. Now.”

She was sort of bossy, and that could be both fun and annoying. Starr did what she told him and asked, “What’s your name?”

It was almost stupid, that he didn’t know her name, but he knew she was meant for him.

“Mysti,” she said, snapping on plastic gloves and standing over him to inspect the back of his head. “And yours?”

“Starr.”

She smiled. “Is that your real name?”

“Yeah, it’s my real name. Is Mysti yours?”

“I wasn’t trying to be a smartass. You have a nasty cut right behind your ear.” Mysti pressed a towel to the spot. “Hold that so I can check out your ankle.”

“It’s probably just a — ah. Fuck!”

She’d yanked his boot off, shooting pain up his leg.

“Sorry,” Mysti said, placing his boot aside and gently touching his ankle. “This is seriously swollen. I’ve got ice. What happened to you?”

He curled his lip in annoyance and embarrassment. “I slipped on wet leaves and rolled down a hill.”

“Other than your ankle, do you think you broke anything or have a concussion?”

“No. I’m fine. Clumsy, that’s all.”

“My truck is parked around back. Do you think you need to go to the ER right now?”

More sheet lighting flashed outside the window across the room.

“Hell no,” he said.

“Okay. When this storm passes I’ll take you to get checked out. Be right back with the ice.” Mysti stood, and Starr glanced after her, noting that she was small but curvy.

Despite being distracted by the storm and his ankle, Starr hadn’t missed how good she’d felt, pressed against him when she’d helped him back to the house.

He was pissed that he’d been injured for their introduction. So much for how he’d imagined them meeting — maybe with him sweeping her off her feet and riding into the sunset with her on the back of his bike.

Sometimes Starr thought his family was right. He was a certifiable dreamer.

That was fine, though. It had gotten him this far.

 

More from Kate at Changeling Press …

Kate Hill (Also writing as Saloni Quinby)

Always a fan of romance and the paranormal, I started writing over twenty years ago. My first story was accepted for publication in 1996. Since then I’ve written over one hundred short stories, novellas and novels. I love to blend genres. I also love horror and a happily ever after, so if you’re looking for romance with witches, aliens, vampires, angels, demons, shapeshifters and more, there’s a good chance you’ll find something to your taste here.

When I’m not writing, I enjoy reading, watching horror and action movies, working out and spending time with my family and pets.  I love hearing from readers, so feel free to leave a comment at my blog or connect with me on Twitter.

Website: http://www.kate-hill.com/

Blog: https://kate-hill.com/blog/

 

 

 

Sir Spanksalot by Alice Gaines #PNR #RomCom #scifi #NewRelease

Transported into her favorite game, SexScape, Maddy
meets a sexy devil named Sir Spanksalot. Really.

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Maddy’s “career” is in personal injury law, representing plaintiffs in silly lawsuits. To escape, she plays SexScape on her tablet computer. One night, after winning a particularly difficult level, she finds herself whooshed into the game itself and confronted by an indecently attractive man who claims his name is Sir Spanksalot. Spanking is not her thing, but blazing hot sex with Spanksalot is.

Spanksalot is sure The League has chosen this difficult but seductive woman to be his mate. Only two problems — she seems to be in love with a man named Samuel. And she has a hang-up about his specialty, spanking. Turns out Samuel is Maddy’s fantasy lover and no threat to Spanksalot. When Maddy discovers the fun of having her bottom gently paddled, the two of them become a match made in SexScape.

 

or pre-order at retailers for August 30th

   

 

 

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Alice Gaines

Maddy’s game had a new character. She’d played SexScape long enough to hate the little guy with the crown zipping around on his motorcycle. He’d lost her more levels than she could remember, and if she ever got a chance to blast him with some evil weapon, she’d do it in a heartbeat. Only nothing she’d tried had worked on him yet, and she could scream obscenities at him all she wanted. He just kept showing up in the very worst parts of the display at the very worst times and ruining her shots.

But this morning, just as he’d started up with his mind-fuck, someone else had shown up. A woman, also tiny and also wearing a crown. The color of her motorcycle matched her outfit — fire-engine red. She did battle with the man — zigging when he zagged and replacing the tiles he’d destroyed so they arranged themselves in neat patterns that Maddy could fell with one or two moves.

“You go, sister,” Maddy cheered her hero on. For a while, she simply sat and watched the two perform their motorized dance from one side of the screen of her tablet to the other. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Maddy couldn’t tear herself away even though it meant being late for work… again. This was too fabulous to miss.

Then, the two of them went to opposite corners. The bikes engines revved, and they flew toward each other. When they met in the middle of the screen, a Screaming-O Bomb went off, and Maddy won level 1023.

Then the room began to spin around her as she fell into a dark tunnel. Nothingness closed around her — an almost complete lack of sensation. She was floating with no sense of up or down, backward or forward. Could the game have done this to her, or was she dreaming? If so, how could she wake herself up? She was supposed to do something, but what? Work, damn it. She was supposed to be at work.

Finally, a light showed in the distance, and she got a sense of direction. She was headed toward it. As it enlarged, she got a view of a landscape. Pretty. No, beautiful. Trees and grasses and sunlight. Warm. She could do worse than end up there, wherever there was.

When the dream or voyage ended, Maddy found herself on her ass in a shallow stream. All around her, tall trees of a kind she’d never seen before reached toward a cloudless sky. Pretty place, but the water wasn’t exactly a spa. More like a refrigerator.

She scrambled to get up, but the stones at the bottom of the stream were slick with water and moss, so she only ended up on her ass once more. Rather than try that exact maneuver again, she used her hands to push herself up and skittered on all fours to the side of the stream. There she found a flat rock warmed by the sun and took a seat to examine her surroundings.

She’d been here before, even though she’d never been any place like this. That made no sense, but neither did the transition she’d just experienced.

She’d been sitting at the table in the dining room in her apartment playing the stupid game that plagued her when, all of a sudden, whoosh… something had sucked her into the tunnel and dropped her here. Was this her prize for winning the latest diabolical level SexScape had used to torment her for weeks? If so, the reward ought to include some sex, even if imaginary. It wasn’t supposed to be a pleasant walk in the woods. Or cold splash, as the case might be.

Why did this place seem so familiar? An inner-city girl, she’d mostly visited trees in parks either close to home or at the end of a bus line. So, why did it seem she’d wandered beneath these trees along the side of the stream? Being here felt like living inside one of her dreams. Or…

No, not a dream. SexScape. She’d deliberately chosen the wilderness path in the game. She got enough city with constant noise and dirty air in her real life, thank you very much. So, she’d settled on woods and beaches and the occasional mountaintop. Scenery like what surrounded her right now.

Hoofbeats sounded in the distance, rapidly approaching where she sat. She got up from her seat on the rock and glanced around for a place to hide. The horse might be out for a run on its own, or it might have a rider. If she got a look at the person as they passed through, she could decide whether or not to call for help. In any case, discretion won out over valor, and she ducked behind one of the big trees.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the horse and rider showed themselves. But they didn’t dash across the stream to continue on. The rider pulled up the reins, and the horse stopped, breathing hard and stamping a hoof as if impatient to keep going.

The rider — a man wearing a flowing black cape — held the reins tight and glanced all around. Truly, there wasn’t much to see of him because the cape covered him from his neck and over his body. It even draped over the horse’s hindquarters and rump. And the man’s head appeared no more than a shock of platinum hair. Finally, he turned toward her, and she got a brief glance at him before she had to plaster herself against the tree trunk again to hide.

That second or two revealed the most beautiful male face she’d ever laid eyes on. Blue eyes, full lips, and a devil’s smile exposing even white teeth.

“Ah, my lady, why do you hide yourself from me?” he asked.

Maybe he’d seen her, but maybe he hadn’t. She could try to wait him out to see if he’d ride off. She couldn’t try to get away from him. His horse could run her down easily.

“Am I really so frightening?” he said. “Or perhaps you’ve fallen in love with that tree.”

Good question. He didn’t seem dangerous, maybe just a little weird with the “my lady’s” and that yards-long cape. Without knowing where she was, especially if she’d fallen into her favorite game, she could use some help figuring out how to get back home. And for now, he appeared to be all the help she had.

She stepped out from behind the tree. “Can you tell me where I am?”

He jumped down and made a sweeping bow, the cape settling around him. “Sir Spanksalot at your service, lady.”

“I didn’t ask who,” she said. “I asked where.”

“You are exactly where you need to be.”

 

More from Alice at Changeling Press …

USA Today bestselling author Alice Gaines has published several sensuous and erotic works. She prefers stories that stretch the imagination, highlighting the power of love and sex. Alice has a Ph.D. in psychology from U. C. Berkeley and lives in Oakland, California, with her collection of orchids and her pet corn snake, Casper.

Alice loves to get mail at authoralicegaines@yahoo.com. You can sign up for her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/boeGm9.

 

 

Night Critters by Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards #boxset #PNR #futuristic #RomCom #UrbanFantasy @changelingpress @Lena_Austin

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Sahara Kelly

 

Must Love Dogs: By the mid 21st century, the human population has been decimated, but some still scream over racial purity — and not just among humans. Not only is Roni not a pure werewolf, she’s a crossbreed Chuskie — offspring of a Siberian Husky and a Chihuahua. Corbin is Alpha and heir to Thornburn pack, the richest pack in three states. Who cares if he dates a were-dog? Their parents…

Faux Paws: Lucky Thornburn, a Faux Paws, a shifter-born who can’t shift, meets a fiery Goth half-angel named Charm who’s trouble on the wing. She wants to renovate her mother’s old house into a home for foster children, but Lucky’s cold-hearted brother JR wants the property for a shopping mall. Charm’s not going to give up, and Lucky’s coming right along with her…

Paws to Heal: Two were-dogs welcome the return of their former lover after being enemy packs for so long. Duke, Katriena, and Eduardo must pause to heal the breach and bring the were-canines and lupines together.

Bad Fur Day: Staci Thornburn is determined to get an interview with the new Chinese UNESCO Ambassador, but Jiao Long, a Foo Dog-Dragon cross, is more than a little irritated. It’s a good thing dragons are fireproof, because things are about to get hot!

Santa Paws: JR Thornton seeks redemption by dressing up in a Santa suit to deliver gifts to an orphanage, but the angry wood fairy guarding the house is more interested in blowing his head off. Phaedra’s determined to give JR a piece of her mind. So why does she want so badly to sit in Santa’s lap?

Publisher’s Note: Night Critters (Box Set) contains the previously released novellas Must Love Dogs, Faux Paws, Paws to Heal, Bad Fur Day, and Santa Paws.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or Pre-Order at retailers for August 23rd

   

 

Praise for Must Love Dogs “Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards have created a humorous canine version of Romeo & Juliet… The chemistry was perfectly blended; the characters were strong and overall helped create a marvelously written book.”

5 Angels! — NeNe, Fallen Angels Reviews
Praise for Faux Paws “Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards have produced another hilarious tale pairing unique critters together in a very enjoyable saga.”
4.5 Nymphs! — Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs
Praise for Paws to Heal “Paws to Heal is a glimpse into the history of the characters featured in the first book in the Night Critters series. In this installment, the fabulous Lena Austin delivers an erotic love scene hot enough to give you a Heat Stroke.”
5 Nymphs! — Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs
Praise for Bad Fur Day “The sex is good but the story was even better. You can always count on Austin and Richards for some “get me some iced tea, I’m on fire” sensuality.”
4 Tombstones! — Kate, Bitten by Books
Praise for Santa Paws “Lena Austin brings to life these two characters in her short story Santa Paws. Bringing Christmas to the readers and showing them that just about every evil deed can be turned to good, given the right incentive. Many readers will enjoy this short story that shows just what Christmas can be all about, at least to the magical creatures of the world.”
— Stacy Link, PNR Reviews

Schoolboy Blues by Kiernan Kelly #ContemporaryRomance #NewRelease #GayRomance #LGBTbooks #RockStar @changelingpress @KiernanKelly

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox

 

Once best friends, Angelo and Vincent parted after a night of hot passion and conflicting emotions.

Rock star Angelo knows a good thing when he’s got it, and what he has on stage with his band now is as good as it gets. He clings to that knowledge during the times when he longs for the warmth of a lover in his heart and his bed.

Vincent has grown adept at ducking his mother’s probing questions about grandbabies, while dedicating his life to nailing perps to the jailhouse wall in criminal court. His family and his career bring him satisfaction, but he dares not pursue a relationship that would complete his life.

Could the music that led to their parting a decade ago be the bond that brings these two lovers back together again?

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or Pre-Order for August 23rd

   

 

Praise for School Boy Blues (Set in Stone)

“If you like rock stars and tough prosecutors who share a weak spot for each other, if you enjoy the “magic” of the 1970s, and if you’re looking for a read that is as short as it is hot, occasionally funny, and just a little suspenseful toward the end, then you will probably like this novella.”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kiernan Kelly

Rush groaned, and banged his phone against his forehead a few times in frustration. It would leave a mark, but he didn’t care. Stage makeup was very forgiving. “Fine. We’ll do it, but no interviews. Nobody backstage. No VIPs, no reporters, no fans, nada. I mean it, Bernie. If I hear one fucking question or see one camera, I’ll walk. Understand?”

Bernie’s voice dropped an octave. “Sure, sure. Excellent. I knew you’d see reason. Okay. You fly out on the third, and I’ve booked the band the top floor at the Marriott. The rest of the company will be staying at a Quality Inn. I’ve rented a bus for them, and a limo for you guys. Two shows, Friday and Saturday nights. Any special requests for the hotel rooms or the green room at the Palace?”

“Not from me. Ask the boys what they want.” Rush was done, and just wanted to hang up and go strum his guitar for a while. That always calmed him down, let him think. If he was lucky, the music would flush the sliminess of Bernie’s voice from his ears.

“You got it. It’s going to be an awesome weekend. Ciao.”

Rush hung up without saying good bye. Ciao. As far as Rush knew, Bernie couldn’t even spell ciao. In Bernie’s little pointy head, it was probably spelled “chow.” Bernie didn’t like Italian food, and the closest he’d ever gotten to Italy was when the band dragged his ass to the San Gennaro Feast in Little Italy in New York last September. Pretentious bastard.

He grabbed Cleaver, his acoustic guitar, and flopped on to the sofa in the living room. Cleaver was a sweet maple Gibson he’d bought back in 1962 when he was still in high school, and paid for it with the money he’d made working a paper route. He remembered the first time he saw it hanging in one of the windows at the Woolworths on Main Avenue in Passaic. He thought then it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and still did. Even though he wailed on a Fender onstage, the axe never felt as good in his hands as good ol’ Cleaver did.

There were a lifetime of memories scarring the neck and body. Every nick and scratch had a story to tell. Like the little ding next to the bridge, for example. He remembered exactly how and when it’d been put there — by a carelessly tossed shoe on the night he lost his virginity to Vincenzo Genovese.

A smile lifted his lips even now, as he ran his finger over the dimple in the otherwise smooth wood. God, they’d been so young, their bodies so hard and eager. It’d been over almost as soon as it began, but he could still almost feel the sharpness of his orgasm, how it had ripped through his body like white lightning, searing every part of him. His cock stirred as the old, aching need surfaced again.

And deflated just as quickly as the other memory he associated with Vinnie Genovese surfaced. He rubbed his jaw as if he could still feel Vinnie’s hard fist connecting with it, loosening two teeth.

You were both seventeen, and confused about who you were and what you were feeling. Him more than you. How long are you gonna hold on to that grudge?

Shut up, he told the needling voice in his head. He didn’t want introspection right now. He wanted escape.

Trying to push the negative feelings away, his fingers began to strum the strings. It took several moments before he realized he recognized the tune, although he hadn’t played it in years. It was Schoolboy Blues, the song he’d written for Vinnie. The lyrics came back to him with the melody, and he began to sing, low and sweet.

“Your hands play my body like I play my guitar, drawing out a melody my heart sings; no matter where we are, near or far, I will always love the magic loving you brings.”

He stopped playing, silencing the guitar by pressing his palm over the strings, and ended the song with a wry snort. The lyrics were amateurish, syrupy high school crap, sure, but they still made his throat tighten and brought a curious burning to his eyes.

“Fuck you, Bernie. Why Jersey? Why now?”

 

More from Kiernan at Changeling Press …

Kiernan’s stories of gay romance envelop diverse themes ranging from paranormal to fantasy, and science fiction to contemporary romance. She has fifteen novels currently in print and ebook, and over eighty shorter works available in both mediums. Contrary to popular opinion, she is not a zombie. Yet.

You can find Kiernan on her website at http://www.kiernankelly.com/ or on Facebook or at Cafe Risque http://caferisque.blogspot.com, or you can e-mail the author.