Category Archives: Erotic Romance

Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’ by Mychael Black #DarkFantasy #NewRelease #GayRomance #LGBT #PNR @changelingpress

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Can't You Hear Me Knocking (Set In Stone Multi-Author 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

When Jacob’s eccentric mentor Malcolm dies, Jacob finds himself falling down the proverbial rabbit hole. Lucid dreams keep him questioning his own sanity. When he meets Christian, things only get stranger.

Is Christian real, or is Malcolm just trying to drive Jacob insane from beyond the grave?

 

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Praise for Can’t You Hear Me Knocking (Set in Stone) “What a ride! If you like stories with lots of supernatural mystery, if a young man trying to decide what’s real and what’s a dream is your thing, and if you’re looking for a read with twists and turns that might just turn you completely around, then you might like this short story. ”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Mychael Black

I left the group to their dinner, set the tray on the counter, and tugged out my order book before heading to the next table.

“Hello and welcome to Will’s Bar and Grill,” I stated. I opened up my book and finally looked at the lone diner.

Something about him seemed familiar, though I had no idea why. His light gray eyes drew me in, so much that it took considerable effort to get my brain to function again. I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

He smiled the slightest bit. “Water, please.”

“Any appetizers to start?”

“No, but I’d like to hear your opinion on the steaks.”

No one had asked me that in a long time. Hell, Malcolm had been the first to ever ask at all, five years before he…

No. No way was I heading down that road again.

“The New York Strip is good,” I said.

“But is it your personal favorite?” the man asked, leaning a little, his arms folded on the table in front of him.

“No. Mine is the sirloin.”

He nodded. “The sirloin it is. Rare, please.”

“Sides?”

“Surprise me.”

Okay…

“I’ll have your water out in a moment.”

I tucked my book back into my apron and left his table. I swore I felt his gaze follow me right into the kitchen. After inputting his order into the computer system for the kitchen, I fixed his water. Then I grabbed the steak sauce and ketchup and headed for his table. Instead of observing his surroundings or a cell phone like most people, he stared straight at me. It was unnerving, to say the least.

“Your dinner will be up soon,” I said as I set his water and the condiments down.

“Thank you, Jacob.”

I froze and met his gaze. Something about the way he said my name made every hair stand on end. His tone held a touch of intimacy, of personal knowledge about me, that sent a chill through my body.

“You’re welcome,” I muttered.

Thankfully, another table waved me over. I excused myself and returned to my duties. When his food came out, I asked another server to deliver it on the pretense that I was with a large group.

When he left, I nearly dropped the folder with the check. His bill had only been a hair over twenty bucks, but he’d tucked in a fifty and disappeared.

“So did you get a good tip from Mr. Creepy?” my friend, and fellow server, Ellen asked when I returned to the register to cash out his check.

I held up the fifty and the check.

“Holy shit! What did you do to get that?”

“Fuck if I know,” I said with a shrug. I finished and started my sidework. “Just glad he’s gone. He was weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Ellen replied before she left to do her own sidework.

I got mine done fairly quickly and told her goodnight before heading out. The cool night air helped me relax after a hectic shift. Hands tucked into my light jacket, I walked the two blocks to my apartment building. The city streets had emptied, for the most part, with only a few stragglers here and there. I ignored them and started up the outside steps to the second floor of my building. Another man came down from the landing, and I nearly bumped into him.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Long night.”

“That’s quite all right, Mr. Hewitt.”

I snapped my head up and stared into very familiar gray eyes. “How…”

He smiled. “I am not without my wiles.”

I had nowhere to go, and I didn’t trust this guy as far as I could throw him. I started backing down the steps. No way was I gonna go to my door so he could see which one it was.

“Look, man. I don’t know you. I don’t know what this is about. But I swear to God, if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call the cops.”

He sighed. “Jacob… come now. Is this any way to treat an old friend?”

“Excuse me?” I blinked and stopped halfway down, still facing him. “I’ve never seen you before tonight!”

“On the contrary, you have,” he said. “But I will leave you be for now. We shall meet again.”

I stumbled out of the way as he passed me. He didn’t look back, and I watched until he rounded a corner nearly a block away. Then, only then, did I run up the steps to my door. The second I got the door unlocked, I practically jumped inside and locked it — including the deadbolt and chain.

“No fucking way,” I muttered, backing away.

A shiver snaked its way up my spine. But a deeper part of me couldn’t help but be intrigued. The guy was handsome. Long pitch black hair, a toned build, and those damned eyes…

 

More from Mychael at Changeling Press …

Myc has been writing professionally since 2005, solo and with Shayne Carmichael. Genres include pretty much anything (no steampunk yet), though Myc is well known for paranormal stories. When not writing, Myc is usually playing PC games, reading, editing, watching movies and shows on Netflix and Amazon, or spending way too much time on Facebook.

 

 

Switcher’s Rhapsody by Kate Steele #futuristic #ActionAdventure #scifi #aliens #alienencounters #LGBT #GayRomance #NewRelease @Kate27Steele @changelingpress

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Switcher's Rhapsody

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Tarl Mengs, navigator of the Starship Brizo, never expected his vacation would end with a near crash landing on a backwater planet like Peldar. Resigned to days of boredom while his shuttle is repaired, an unexpected meeting with a cute and sassy Adarian lands Mengs in a world of trouble. It seems Switcher has stolen a prize from a pack of poachers who will do anything to get it back.

Stranded and on the run, Mengs and Switcher face life threatening danger to save a species on the verge of extinction. And that’s the easy part. Who knew wrestling with a budding relationship would be even harder!

Publisher’s Note: Switcher’s Rhapsody takes place in the same world as Kate Steele’s Gimme Shelter (Set in Stone).

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Steele

Mengs took another sip of his drink. The liquor was raw and burned its way down Mengs’ throat. Not exactly top-shelf stuff, it still managed to quench his thirst and complement the food, a local meat and root-vegetable dish he’d chosen for his evening meal. His expectations were again exceeded as the food turned out to be just as tasty as something Kyle, the Brizo’s chef and jack-of-all-trades, could cook up.

Upon emerging from Devenes’ front door earlier in the evening, Mengs had noted the increase of activity on the street. It seemed the town was nocturnal in nature. Storefronts down the way, including the game parlor, were lit up, and a lot more pedestrians were visible on the roadways.

The bar, Similfis, was filling up. The atmosphere was laid-back, the lighting mostly murky but brightened here and there by a few stray beams from overhead. The smell of food drifted in from the doorway to the kitchen located behind the bar. It was underscored by the tang of various liquors, the burn of some kind of organic substance being smoked and the subtle mix of natural musk and artificial fragrances emanating from the men and women who came to eat, drink and socialize.

Unhindered by the lack of bright light, Mengs kept careful watch on the action. So far it was peaceful, but when liquor and various beings mixed, trouble could be no further away than the use of one unfortunate word. Music played over a sometimes-scratchy sounding audio system. No live band here and no room for dancers. Similfis provided the basics. Food and drink, with the emphasis on drink. Anyone wanting other entertainment found it elsewhere.

As Mengs finished his meal and polished off his drink he noted one of the two bartenders headed in his direction. The man carried a bottle. The same one he’d poured Mengs’ drink from. When he reached the table, the man pulled out a chair. He tipped the bottle, refilled Mengs’ glass and set the bottle on the table.

Mengs took a sip of his newly poured drink. “Thanks.”

“Welcome. You’re new around here.”

Mengs set his glass down. “Yep.”

“Gulrian.”

“Yep.”

“Name?”

“Mengs.”

“Similfis.”

“Ah. Owner.”

“Yep.”

Mengs studied the man. The native peoples of Peldar were humanoid, or as close to human as made no difference. Similfis appeared to be somewhere in his mid-forties, a strong-built man with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. His eyes were brown, their expression shrewd. Mengs knew he was being sized up.

“Don’t say much, do you?” Similfis asked.

“I don’t know you.”

“Same here, so fair enough. I’d like to know why you came specifically to my place.”

“Recommendation from one of the Fratkin. Said it was a place where there’d be no trouble and I could leave in one piece.”

“Ah. Reputation is everything. I mean to keep mine.”

“I’ve no intention of interfering with that.”

“Happy to hear it. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks.”

A smile played on Mengs’ lips as he watched the man rise from his chair and walk away. He respected a being that took a hands-on approach to business. Similfis was a no-nonsense kinda guy who ran a tight ship. Reminded Mengs of his captain, Zen Ahbramez. Tough and dependable. Mengs leaned back in his chair and relaxed a bit more. Safe bet was nothing untoward would go down here this evening.

As Similfis rounded the end of the bar and took his place behind it, a slim figure ghosted in through the front entrance. Curiosity stirred and Mengs mused. Male? Female? The being kept mostly to the shadows with distance between itself and any other in the bar. Now and then, for only a second or two, it moved close to a patron whose attention was on their companions. He or she drifted in, then slipped away unnoticed.

At one point the being glided through a beam of light. Despite being somewhat hidden by a hood, Mengs caught a glimpse of a fine-boned face. His eyes widened. Male. Adarian. Though there were a few obvious off-worlders here, this was unexpected. What the hell was an Adarian doing on Peldar? Adar was across the galaxy and Adarians, unless they worked a job off-planet, were known for being somewhat insular. Mengs hadn’t noted any ships in orbit, and this young male was dressed like a native.

Though his curiosity was engaged, Mengs forced himself to relax and slump in his chair. If this male were anything like the Brizo’s second-in-command, Serk, he’d be ultra-sensitive to anyone paying him too much mind. Serk claimed his species began their evolution as predators in the jungles of Adar, and no matter how far they were now from their primitive roots, those predatory instincts had remained intact.

Sure enough, the Adarian melted into the shadows and halted his light-footed prowl. Mengs felt the weight of his regard for a brief moment before the Adarian turned away and left the way he came in. Quick, quiet and unremarked.

A slow smile curved Mengs’ lips. Pickpocket. He’d bet his last credit on it. The way the young man drifted from customer to customer, probably taking just a credit chip here and there, not enough to be missed — in, out and gone. Oh yeah. Mengs would bet anything the young Adarian would be counting his take later if he weren’t doing it already. And that thought stole Mengs’ amusement. Why was he here? Why so down-and-out he had to steal to get by?

It was a puzzle Mengs had no pieces he could use to solve. He found unsolvable puzzles annoying. If the opportunity presented itself he just might seek some answers.

 

More from Kate at Changeling Press …

Kate’s love of books started from the moment she read those fateful words: run, Spot, run! It took her awhile to discover that she didn’t have to just read and imagine, but that she could also write stories and so here she is writing romance and loving it. Like chocolate – her ultimate favorite food, with pizza running a close second – writing became addictive. Whether it’s paranormal, contemporary or science fiction about werewolves, otherworldly creatures or the average Joe, she can’t get enough.

As for the everyday details, Kate lives in a turn of the century house located in the midst of Indiana farm country, and is kept company by family, along with demanding dogs, contrary cats and a pair of occasionally sweet, and definitely noisy, lovebirds. When not writing, she reads, is an enthusiastic grower of iris, and a fanatic fan of Japanese manga and anime.

Website: http://www.katesteele.com

 

 

Like a Thief in the Night by E.D. Parr #GayRomance #NewRelease #LGBT

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Gorgeous, businessman, Saxon Dearing buys a pied de terre in the city where he works. Only using the place on three nights, he goes home to his beachside house for the rest of the week. At thirty-two, immersed in his work, he doesn’t know he’s lonely until delicious, twenty-five year old Jon Palmer literally drops into his life during a thunderstorm.

Artist Jon struggles to sell his paintings from a tiny studio, and works in a city gallery to pay his rent. As the two men fall in love, Jon can’t overcome the idea his lack of success is a barrier to telling handsome, wealthy Saxon how he feels.

When his boss offers him a dangerous way of making money, Jon must make a choice.

Will he risk telling Saxon he loves him or let his lack of confidence lead him astray and away from the man who loves him, too?

 

Today we welcome, Saxon Dearing one of the heroes

 

I’ll make this interview fun…

 

Saxon, If you were a dessert, what would you be?

 

(Laughs) A dessert … well I know Jon likes ginger cookies, but that’s not really a dessert, huh? Okay I know, lemon meringue pie, yeah.

 

What do you do when you need to blow off steam?

 

If I’m in the city I go to the gym and beat the crap out of a punch bag. If I’m at the beach house, I run on the beach, although I do keep to the wet sand and I like to wear my iPod

 

What do you look for in a man?

 

Nothing now I’ve met Jon. He’s perfect for me. I love him. He’s intelligent, creative, good-looking, sexy, sweet … I could go on all day about him.

 

What is in your refrigerator right now?

 

In the city, steak, lettuce, cherry tomatoes … a half pack of beer, what else … a red pepper. There’s not that much because Jon and I are going up to the beach house tonight.

 

What’s on your bedroom floor?

 

In the city, my old baseball bat, that’s under the bed.

 

What do you wear in bed?

 

Depends what I’m doing (smiles) so it ranges from a t-shirt and boxers to nothing … (smiles again) mostly nothing now

 

Light on or off?

 

Either, both

 

Chocolate or vanilla?

 

Is that for licking off Jon’s abs? Has to be chocolate.

 

What’s your biggest fear?

 

Oh, well, I have to think about that for a second. I could say spiders or losing on the stock market but truth is it’s losing Jon’s love. It would break my heart.

 

What is your most treasured possession?

 

After the last question … Jon’s not my possession but I treasure him. If it has to be a possession, then it’s a drawing Jon gave me … he’s an artist.

 

What’s your favorite outfit?

 

I have some old faded levis and beaten up leather boots that I rely on when I’m not in suits. I usually throw on a t-shirt and my battered leather jacket over the top. I have to wear suits for work. I like my black one best.

 

What do you like to see Jon dressed in?

 

Anything he likes, (his eyes mist a little) although I do like him in the tux he wore for our wedding, and in his ripped jeans, because there’s a frayed bit high on his thigh…

 

Do you have a favorite music track?

 

My taste and surprisingly Jon’s too, is eclectic. We’re listening to old Coldplay stuff right now … love them.

 

Tell the readers something you’ve never told anyone before.

 

(Grins) What? You mean spill a secret? You do. (Takes a deep breath) I have nothing for you, nope not a thing…

 

We’ll make that the last question. Thanks for visiting. Where are you off to next?

 

(Smiles) You know that’s another question, right?

 

We have a story teaser for you from, Like a Thief in the Night

Jon struggled into a sitting position. “What time is it?”

Saxon shook his head. “I don’t know, but maybe nine or ten.” Saxon sat up.

“Hell, not ten please.” Jon leaped from the bed and dashed to his backpack where he snatched a smartphone from the front zipper pocket. He ran his hand through his sleep-ruffled hair. It stood on end at the front. He cast a glance at Saxon. “It’s nine. I start at nine-thirty. I’m sorry, I have to dash.”

“It’s okay. Will I make you a coffee while you dress?”

“Thanks for thinking of me, but I’ll make a cup at the gallery.” He ran into the bathroom and came out moments later in the jeans and sweater Saxon had seen him wearing the night before. He dropped a pair of boots to the floor and zipped up his fly as he pushed bare feet into them.

Saxon gazed at the spectacle. He got out of bed and walked rapidly to the kitchen remembering Jon’s jacket was draped over the back of a chair. He brought it to Jon.

Jon rewarded him with a smile. “Thank you. Is it okay to leave my pajamas in the bathroom?” He slipped his jacket on and grabbed up his backpack.

To Saxon’s surprise and delight, Jon kissed him by the side of his mouth.

“See you tonight. Thank you so much.” He strode to the door, opened it, and left.

Saxon went to the bathroom and picked up Jon’s pajamas. He hung them from a hook on the door and dragged on his robe from the other hook. Jon’s socks lay in a damp bunch on the floor next to the shelf housing towels. His boots must leak. Concern furrowed his brow. He put the socks in the laundry hamper. They can go in the wash. I’ll get coffee first. I’ve missed early trading. Perhaps it doesn’t matter this once. Saxon hummed as he heaped coffee grains into the filter. An unfamiliar deep happiness bubbled in him.

Copyright E. D. Parr 2019, Evernight Publishing

 

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99 cent sale! CAN’T GET ENOUGH (a rock star romance) by Harley Wylde @HarleyW_Writer #99cents #onsale #NewAdult #RomanceBooks

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On sale until 11:59pm pacific time on August 10th!

 

JACE
When Sinful Seduction made it big, my life changed, and not always in awesome ways. The groupies were great at first, until one decided to fake a pregnancy and claim the kid was mine. My bandmates had my back, and while the woman backed down fast when I demanded a paternity test, it still shook me. I knew it was time for another change, one where I kept my pants zipped. And then I saw her across the bar… the goddess with golden waves, and her sexy little librarian outfit. I knew she was different, and I wanted to make her mine. Should have known better than to get drunk in Vegas. You know how they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? Bullshit. Total and complete bullshit. But maybe this time my mistake will turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

HONEY
I dumped my cheating fiancée, hopped a plane to Vegas, and hit the latest writer’s convention. On what should have been my wedding day, I was throwing back drinks like they were fruit punch. To be fair, they probably had fruit punch in them. When I woke up the next morning with a hard body pressed to mine, and a silver band on a very important finger, I thought I’d screwed up more than ever before. Imagine my surprise when the wannabe rocker I married turned out to be even more famous than me — and wait for it — he wanted to stay married! Even with a battered heart, I still believed in happily-ever-after, but what could a rock star and a romance author have in common?

Chemistry… Intense, curl your toes, melt your panties chemistry. Relationships have been based on worse, right?

*WARNING: If you don’t like foul-mouthed bad boys, lots of hot sex, and an accidental marriage, then you should probably skip this book.

 

Still not sure it’s the right book for you? Keep reading for a sneak peek…

 

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

JACE

I stared into the crowd, their faces and writhing bodies a blur under the multi-hued lights. Sweat rolled down my temples and my spine as the lyrics poured out of me, more out of habit than passion. Fierce Seduction had been at the top of the charts for the past year as we’d toured the country. My fingers flew over the strings of my guitar, the riffs to the songs coming as easy as the women screaming my name. I couldn’t look at them without seeing her face, the stupid cunt who thought she was going to catch herself a one-way ticket to stardom.

It had been the week from hell. A groupie I’d fucked nearly a damn year ago contacted my manager, threatening to go public if I didn’t pay her a million dollars to keep quiet. She claimed the baby she’d had two weeks before was my son, but I knew better. I was super fucking cautious when it came to fucking the whores who threw themselves at me. I not only wore a condom, but I usually pulled out too. No way in hell I was getting trapped by some gold-digging bitch.

Fuck. Would this concert never end? We were playing Vegas, and the venue was sold out. It was our last show before heading home on Monday. The band had agreed we’d play Friday night, then fuck around for two days on the strip before flying back to L.A. Best fucking idea ever. I wasn’t big into gambling, but the bar at the Bellagio was calling my name. I was certain they had several bottles of vodka with my name on them. I just hadn’t decided if I was celebrating the fact that the kid wasn’t mine or trying to drown myself over the fuckery that was my life. When you’d fucked enough women that they all blurred together, and your reputation was so tattered those same women thought they could blackmail you, then maybe it was time to get off the merry-go-round.

The last few bars of the song played out, our final for this show, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell off the stage. The fans screamed and catcalled, all of them wanting a piece of us. It had been a thrill a minute when the stardom had first hit. I couldn’t believe how lucky we’d been, or that we were finally riding the top of the charts. There was this huge rush when we took the stage, or when some hot college girl tossed her panties at me, or better yet, informed me she wasn’t wearing any. I’d definitely earned my reputation as a panty dropper. I’d been proud as hell of the way women fawned all over me, until that wake-up call last week. Nothing can kill your buzz quicker than some chick claiming she got knocked up with your kid, some faceless stranger you fucked and forgot. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever learned her name before bending her over.

Backstage, I snagged a bottle of water and guzzled the entire damn thing. Tossing it into the trash, I braced myself for what came next. The adoring fans who had backstage passes. A VIP room had been set up for the occasion, and I knew those women only wanted one thing. To lay claim to one of us for the night, hell, even for an hour.

“You in a hurry to get your dick wet?” Simon asked with a leer. “A room full of free pussy, and it’s all ours for the taking.”

“I’m signing some autographs then I’m getting the fuck out of here,” I said as I stormed down the hallways toward a fate worse than death.

“Since when do you turn away free pussy?”

“Since Rochelle.” I’d tried not to utter that cunt’s name, but it was ingrained in my memory ever since I’d gotten the letter from her attorney.

Simon winced. “That was some rotten luck, but it all worked out. You demanded that paternity test and proved her to be the fucking liar that she is. You’re not going to let one woman fuck with your head like that, are you?”

I shrugged and pushed through the doors to the VIP room. The squeals and shrieks assaulted my ears as about six pairs of hands reached for me. Revulsion rolled through me as I looked at their too-heavy makeup and skin tight clothes. Why had I ever been attracted to women like these? They were desperate and didn’t care who they hurt, as long as they got what they wanted. Me.

Signing whatever they thrust my way—paper, water bottles, boobs—I finally made my way through the crowd and out the doors on the opposite side. When I rushed outside of the venue, I ignored the screaming fans, trusting that security would keep them off my back while I disappeared into the night. I took several detours, making sure I wasn’t followed, and finally arrived at the Bellagio. I’d stayed here before when I wasn’t touring with the band, and as I stepped inside, it felt like the building was welcoming me back. The place was packed, but I managed to find a spot at the end of the bar. Hopefully out of sight of everyone but the bartender.

I motioned for him to come over and ordered six shots of vodka. They burned on the way down as I slammed one after another. It would take a hell of a lot more to get me shitfaced, but it was a decent start. The next hour blurred as I downed everything from vodka to whiskey to Jagermeister.  I felt warm, and loose, and completely blissed out by the time I noticed her.

My eyes took in the neat updo and the prim glasses perched on her nose. The way she sipped at the fruity drink in front of her made me think this wasn’t her usual scene. The dress she had on was sexy yet sedate. Fuck if she didn’t make me burn hotter than the god damn sun. Her lips, a succulent berry color, fit around the straw of her red drink, and I watched as her gaze flitted around the room. The jackass next to her was so fucking drunk he nearly knocked her off the barstool twice, earning the creep a glare that would have made a cross nun proud. I half expected her to whip out a ruler and rap his knuckles with it.

Whoever this angel was, I knew I wanted to find out more about her, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to do that sitting way over here. I shouldered my way through the crowd and shoved the drunk off his stool before claiming it for myself. She blinked up at me in surprise, the blue depths of her eyes pulling me in. The angel licked her lips as she leaned a little closer.

Holy Hell.

“Thank you,” she murmured, a slight slur to her words. Just how many of those drinks had she had?

“I won’t knock you off your stool, but I can’t promise I won’t sweep you off your feet.”

What. The. Fuck. Did that shit really just come out of my mouth?

She giggled, and her cheeks flushed pink. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. She had this sexy librarian vibe going and my fingers itched to get her out of that dress. Was she wearing plain cotton underneath or something lacy and hot as fuck? I’d never chased a woman before, but this little beauty was enough to knock me to my knees. Yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of…

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Honey.”

My eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Honeysuckle. My mother was a hippy.”

Oh yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of Honey.

“Jace,” I said, holding out my hand.

 

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Harley is the international bestselling author of the Dixie Reapers and Devil’s Boneyard series.

When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

 

 

 

 

Jackal/Wraith (Duet) by Harley Wylde #paperback #MCromance #bikerbooks #NewAdult #SilverFox #MayDecember @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

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Jackal/Wraith Duet (Dixie Reapers MC Box Sets 5)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Jackal (Devil’s Boneyard MC 1)

Josie: I spent an amazing three days with Jackal before he disappeared, back to his club, the Devil’s Boneyard. He made it clear what we had was a temporary thing, and I was fine with that. Then I faced the scariest thing ever. Telling my big brother, Tank, a Dixie Reaper, I was pregnant and alone at the age of nineteen.

Jackal: I’ve thought about Josie since I walked away. I never counted on the little girl glued to her hip. Now I want something I’ve never wanted before. My family. Because Josie and our daughter, Allegra, are exactly what’s been missing in my life. Figures the one I want more than anything might be the first to send me packing. But I’m not letting anyone take them away.

Wraith (Dixie Reapers MC 8)

Rin: My mom died when I was little, my dad when I was fifteen. My half-brother convinced the state to grant him custody, and my life has been hell ever since. Every time I try to run, he finds me, but this time will be different. I’m asking the Dixie Reapers for help. I didn’t count on the sexy man with the dark, brooding eyes who makes me want things I’ve never wanted before.

Wraith: I’m not the settling-down type. Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore. Now I’m faced with the strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. But I’m no good for her, or anyone else. She thinks she’s not worthy of me, but it’s the other way around. I need Rin back, and I’ll do anything to make her mine.

 

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Praise for Jackal (Devil’s Boneyard MC 1)

“…the sex is hotter than a firecracker. If MCs are your thing, you’ll like these stories.”

— 4 Stars from Alberta, Manic Reader Reviews

“Once again Harley has written an amazing story. I loved how everything turned out and it was nice to see Josie in a different light rather than the bratty girl I read about it Bull’s story. Jackal kind of had me ready to deck him in the beginning but by the end I loved him as well.”

—  5 Stars from Deshonda, Goodreads Review

Praise for Wraith (Dixie Reapers MC 8)

“Wraith was amazing. Rin is my absolute favorite. Reading about her story made me want to break down, but I loved how strong she was and though she was abused in countless ways it didn’t stop her from giving Wraith a chance. I definitely feel as if this was a 5 star read.”

— 5 Stars from Deshonda (iTunes Customer Review)

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde
Excerpt from Jackal

Josie

“I’m sorry, Tank. I tried to stop her,” the Prospect from outside said as he loomed behind me and reached for my arm.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I said, snapping my teeth at him.

The Prospect jumped back, jerking his hand away from me. Asshole. What the fuck was wrong with guys? Like it was okay to just manhandle a woman. Bad enough they’d eye you like a piece of candy and you just knew they were undressing you with their eyes, but touching was a no-no unless I said it was okay.

Tank groaned and met me in the middle of the room. “What the fuck are you doing here, Josephine?”

“It’s Josie,” I said. I’d only told him that about a million and one times, and he still didn’t get it. Josephine was the name of some prissy princess type, and that so wasn’t me. I was high-heeled boots, black leather, and a good dose of sass all the way. “I hate that fucking name and you damn well know it.”

“Fine. What the fuck are you doing here, Josie?” Tank asked.

“Mom has gone too damn far this time. Either you do something, or I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” And she had gone really fucking far. I was beyond livid, but I didn’t know where to turn except to my big brother. Well, half-brother, but he was still the only family I had outside of Mom. That I knew of. Dad was such a horndog, it wouldn’t surprise me if we didn’t have siblings in every damn state. Maybe even a few other countries.

“You know your whore mother doesn’t listen to a fucking thing I say,” Tank said. “You’re nineteen, Josie. Move the fuck out.”

“And go where?” I mean seriously. Did he expect money to just magically appear? I’d tried the college thing, but it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t about to tell anyone I’d been stalked and attacked on campus. Mom would make it all my fault, and Tank would likely beat the fucker into the ground. Then big brother would be in jail. Now that I’d refused to go back… No, I wasn’t going to think about that because big brother was going to fix it. At least he fucking better.

Tank shrugged.

I screeched and stomped my foot before marching over to the bar. The Prospect handing out drinks stared at me wide-eyed, not that I was surprised. I was acting like a fucking brat and I knew it, but dammit. I was seriously losing my shit over this mess.

My life had become so fucked up in a very short time, and I didn’t see any way out of it. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and I refused to listen to my mother this time. She’d ruled my life long enough. I was going to take a stand. I just preferred not to take that stand and end up living in a cardboard box behind the diner. I might not be a prissy princess, but I also knew I didn’t have the skills to survive on the streets. Just the thought of not being able to wash my hair every day was enough to give me hives.

Okay, so maybe I was a little bit of a prissy princess.

“Whiskey,” I snapped at the Prospect.

“You’re underage,” Tank said.

“Since when do you obey the law?” I sneered. Please. As if my big, badass biker brother gave a shit about what was legal or not. I’d be willing to bet every penny in his account came from illegal dealings. Not that I’d ever asked, and I never would. I didn’t give a shit what he did, as long as he stayed alive and out of jail.

Tank tossed his hands into the air and turned away from me. “Someone else can deal with this shit.”

I could feel someone moving closer to me, but I was a little more interested in staring down the Prospect who still hadn’t given me my fucking whiskey. I glared, and he glared right back. Little did he realize, I could do this shit all night, and I was not leaving until I’d had a drink or five. No way I was dealing with my fucked-up life stone-cold sober. If I had to go home to the she-beast known as Mom, I was going to need some liquid courage. Even that wouldn’t likely be enough to face the fate she had in store for me. Just the thought of it made me want to puke.

“Give. Me. The. God. Damn. Whiskey.”

“You’re under –”

I growled and bared my teeth at him. “You’re about two fucking seconds older than me and I know you’re all up in here whoring and drinking your ass off every night. Don’t you lecture me, you fucking prick.”

I heard a chuckle to my left and turned my head in that direction, but the baleful glare I was going to blast the guy with fizzled and died when I got a good look at him. He was quite a bit older than me, probably close to my brother’s age, but God was he sexy as hell. His chocolate eyes just pulled me in and promised all sorts of wicked delights. My gaze strayed down his chest, and I couldn’t help but lick my lips. The material clung to him, showing off very well-defined pecs that I wouldn’t mind exploring. The patch on his cut said he was part of Devil’s Boneyard, an MC I hadn’t heard of before now. But if he was here on Dixie Reapers property, then he must be okay.

“Jackal,” he said, holding out a hand.

“Josie.”

“So I heard.” He smirked. “So, do you really want a drink? Because there are other, much more entertaining ways to blow off steam.”

“Oh, are there?” I asked, playing along. I didn’t whore around, but no one would believe me if I told them that. I dressed to kill, but I’d taken my own virginity with a vibrator when I’d turned sixteen. No way I was leaving something like that up to a fumbling guy who didn’t know fuck all about pleasing a girl. Since then, I hadn’t seen the reason to get overly dirty. But this guy… Yeah, I could see myself getting all hot and sweaty with him.

He reached over and trailed a finger down my bare arm, making me shiver in the most delicious way. “I bet I could keep you entertained for hours. Maybe days.”

“Days?” My gaze dropped to his lap and the rather impressive cock straining against his jeans before flicking back up to his face. “You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

“Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He winked and I couldn’t help but smile.

I’d often had fun flirting with Tank’s brothers, but there was something about this guy that made me want to do much, much more. For the first time in my life, I was tempted to take a true walk on the wild side. He seemed like the type of guy who could make a woman forget her name, claw up his back, and beg for more. If I was going to let some guy fuck me, he was definitely at the top of the list of possibilities. He had this sexy smirk that made my panties damp, and the way he ran his hand through his hair had me wanting to lean just a little closer. And those tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves! Oh yeah, I wanted to explore those with my tongue.

“Maybe you should convince me,” I said.

“I thought you’d never ask.” His eyes blazed as he reached for my hand, tugging me off the barstool and leading me out the front door.

I didn’t know where we were going, and right then, I didn’t much care. As long as I wasn’t heading home, I was all right with any destination, especially if Mr. Tall Dark and Sexy was leading the way.

We stopped at a Harley that made me want to drool, it was that goddamn beautiful. He swung his leg over the seat, then held out his hand. I climbed on behind him, my body fitting against his like we were two pieces of a puzzle. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on as he pulled out of the lot and headed for the front gate. The Prospect on duty let us through, and Jackal opened up the bike on the highway, flying down the road and taking us farther and farther away from my small Alabama town.

 

More from Harley at Changeling Press …

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

Harley’s website: harleywylde.com

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Paint it Black (Set in Stone) by Julia Talbot #BDSM #DarkFantasy #GayRomance #PNR #LGBT @juliatalbot @changelingpress

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Paint It Black (Set In Stone Multi-Author 5)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Incubus Lemos knows it’s his duty to go to the human realm and collect energy for his master, Rezoth. He knows it, but he doesn’t love it. Lemos would rather stay with Rezoth and serve his overlord in other ways.

Rezoth knows how hard it is to please an elderdemon like himself. When Lemos says he wants that to be his life’s work, Rezoth is willing to give him a try. He’s pleased with the result, but there are other forces at work trying to tear them apart. Will Lemos get what he wants for eternity, or are he and Rezoth destined to fail?

 

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Praise for Paint It Black (Set in Stone)

“If you like your terrifying demons to have a sense of humor, if you think they can fall in love just like anyone else, and if you’re looking for an entertaining action/adventure of the supernatural persuasion with a ton of very hot demon-on-demon activity thrown in for good measure, then you will probably enjoy this… I think it’s a blast and then some!”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Julia Talbot

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“Come and give me what you have collected, Lemos.” The elderdemon’s voice vibrated through Lemos’ mind and body, as deep and smooth as human caramel treats. Every time Lemos heard it his tail vibrated.

“Yes, Master.” Lemos moved toward the throne that sat in the middle of the echoing hall. Demon realms weren’t all that big on furniture.

Lemos approached his master, kneeling at the foot of the throne. Master Rezoth touched his head, soaking in the energy Lemos had taken into himself during the time he had been gone. As an incubus, he could gather a great deal of sexual heat and hold it inside. When he returned to the demon realm, all Master Rezoth had to do was to transfer the energy to his own huge body, and direct it to various demon enterprises.

“Oh, Lemos. You have done well.” The flow of magick between them made him shudder with joy. “So much.”

He nodded, the horns on his head throbbing, his tail twitching. In true Biblical fashion, he had worked for six days and was resting on the seventh, but in the demon realm, days were far longer than in the human plane. Lemos wanted to really take some time off. He loved humans, with their weird languages and bright world, but he desired nothing but his demon master. Kinda to obsession.

“You have earned a reward,” Rezoth murmured. “What would you like?”

His cock hardened in a wild rush. While demonkind often sported huge horns and wings, their anatomy was very much like a human’s save for the tail if… bigger. That made his job as an incubus much easier because he didn’t have to work as hard at disguising his form. He’d never in all his centuries of existence earned a reward from Rezoth. He wasn’t sure why he was getting one now, but he wasn’t going to waste it. Lemos squirmed on his knees, eager and embarrassed to ask.

“You know better than to ask for your freedom, sweet. So what has you so excited? Is there a human you wish to spend time with?”

“No, Master.” He moved a tiny bit closer to his master, his nipple touching one of Rezoth’s feet.

“I see. Shall I send you to the torture chamber?”

He laughed. “That might be a reward for some, but I prefer something more personal.”

“Do you, now?” Rezoth rubbed back and forth with his foot. “What would you have?”

“I –” He swallowed hard, the tip of his tail twitching. “I would worship you, Master.”

“Would you, indeed?” Rezoth bent down and lifted Lemos’ head, thumbs rubbing his horns at the base.

“Yes. Please.”

 

More from Julia at Changeling Press …

Julia Talbot lives in the great Southwest, where she’s embraced hot and cold running rodeo, cowboys, and everything from meat and potatoes to the best Tex-Mex. A full time author, Julia believes everyone deserves a happy ending, so she writes about love without limits, where boys love boys, girls love girls, and boys and girls get together to get wild, especially when her crazy paranormal characters are involved.

Website: http://juliatalbot.com

Blog: http://caferisque.blogspot.com

 

Brewer’s Mark (Devil’s Outlaws MC) by Lynn Burke #ActionAdventure #MCromance #bikerbooks #MafiaRomance @AuthorLynnBurke @changelingpress

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Brewer's Mark (Devil's Outlaws MC 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Reagan “Brewer” de Jager might look soft as a teddy bear, but his stint as a sniper in the SEALs hardened him into a lethal killer. The fact that his wife cheated on him while he was deployed makes him unable to trust. Cold hearted and empty, he sets his sights on his next mark — until one look into her eyes slays him.

Ex-CIA agent Nova Smego wasn’t nicknamed Black Widow by her superiors without reason. Underestimated for her petite form, she’s quick with her fists and lethal with a blade or a bullet. She joins a hitmen-for-hire team in the hopes of exacting revenge on the one who ruined her career. When the Outlaws eliminate her team to rescue one of their own, Nova is kept alive — and tied to her captor.

There’s a reason Brewer couldn’t end her, and while she plans her escape, she fears losing her heart to the chemistry sizzling between them. The Outlaws issue Brewer an ultimatum: pull the trigger, or find common ground to trust one another and avoid the Outlaws’ demand for her life.

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lynn Burke

Nova

My heart pounded in my ears, but the heightened sound of gunshots from downstairs broke through the muffled thumps of my rushing blood. I yanked open the roof’s trap door and peered into the attic below, my night vision goggles making the cold evening seem like a spring morning teeming with vibrant green.

No life stirred below from what I could see — unlike the unexpected team of three men who had stormed our safe house, it was quiet as mice in a cupboard.
I slid down the ladder, the flesh wound on my arm aching. Adjusting my grip on my rifle, I pointed the barrel at the door and breathed slowly through parted lips.

Shots sounded again, but quieter as though they were in the basement where we kept the girl we’d been hired to hold. The senator who had dished out the cash for us to take care of his “little problem” had arrived a few moments earlier than the man who’d shot me. Another two must have slipped in the front door.

Teeth clenched against the pain in my arm, I wondered again why I hadn’t aimed for the face of the man who had shot at me after taking out our two northern sentries. The bastard had gotten one shot off — enough to make my arm mostly useless.

I eased the attic door open and peered into the farmhouse’s hallway. Light shone from the stairwell around the corner to my right, so I flipped my goggles off and let them slip to the carpeted floor.

Adrenaline coursed through me as I crept forward, and even though I hadn’t gotten off more than a single shot or moved more than twenty feet from my sentry position on the roof, my lungs fought for oxygen.

As an ex-CIA operative, I should have had more control over my nerves. As a battle-hardened bitch, I certainly shouldn’t have allowed my shot at the man slinking up on the house to fly wayward.

Weak.

Lips pursed against disappointment in myself and the stinging pain, I approached the corner. A body whipped around in front of me, a meaty paw grasping my rifle’s barrel before I could swing it up.

Tall — wide shoulders —

I threw a punch to the kidney of the back lit man, putting all my strength behind me, but my fist merely earned a grunt.

The rifle flew from my grasp, and I shot out a combination punch, the third getting caught in the other damn paw of the huge man.

He dropped my gun and I blocked his grab for my injured arm, landing a half assed blow to rock hard abs that bounced my hand back at me.

I dipped as he reached for my free hand, trying like fuck to smash into his sternum with my injured arm.

The fucker snickered. “Got anything else, little girl?”

I growled and punched again, the beast’s body a solid wall of rock I had no chance of conquering.

He grabbed my wrist. “Enough.”

My world flipped, and I found myself face down on the floor, the carpet burning along my cheek as he wrenched my arms behind me. I kicked. Attempted to pull from his grasp — and he sat on my thighs, trapping them between his own. Fuck, he was big.

“Enough,” he snarled again, and zip ties tightened around my wrists. “Second floor clear,” he said, and I closed my eyes, finally stilling at the professionalism his words indicated about the team with him.

Fuck.

Heaving for breath I clenched my eyes shut.

They must have come for the woman locked in the basement. Men with earpieces, men who knew how to use their guns.

Another muffled shot sounded below us, and the man yanked me up, his hold loosening a bit on my good arm as I stood beside him. My back to the light, I peered up at my captor.

Hair, black as night, eyes blue as the summer’s sky…

My heart skipped and my adrenaline spiked again. Hot. No, gorgeous. Tall and solid, just how I used to like my men.

“Let’s go.” He yanked me down the stairs, his hold on my arm keeping me from tumbling down after him.

One of my team members lay sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, hazel eyes overtaken by dilated pupils that stared into whatever the fuck afterlife he’d believed in. I bit back my whimper, all thoughts of my hot-as-fuck captor erased from my mind.

“Sit.” He pointed at the wall beyond my friend’s feet, and I fought back tears and choking fear while doing as told, sliding down along the wall onto my ass while holding his stare.

Footsteps sounded from the kitchen. Another mountain of a man carried the woman from the basement, his hold gentle, his eyes tender while peering down at her. He lifted his gaze to my captor.

“Sniper from the roof,” my gorgeous attacker all but bit the words out.

“Why the fuck is she still alive?” the mountain asked while setting the woman onto her feet.

My captor turned his focus on the windows flanking the front door a few feet away. “Gunner’s here,” he muttered rather than answer his friend.

Headlights glinted across the entryway’s walls, illuminating the interior briefly, allowing me a quick study of the man looming beside me. Blood dripped from his arm from the bullet I’d put in him, splattering onto the hardwood floor, and I grimaced as my arm sent a shot of pain clear to my fingers, as though wanting to share in his.

My scowl deepened even though my insides warmed from the round, hard ass mere inches from my face. Perfect for sinking my teeth into. Perfect for grasping with my heels while he buried his length inside me. I craned my neck upward, taking in his broad shoulders, the muscular neck that disappeared into hair my fingers itched to touch.

Fuck.

 

More from Lynn at Changeling Press …

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of hot 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/

Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/

 

 

Dire Wolves (Box Set) by Cynthia Sax, Lena Austin, and Shelby Morgen #boxset #PNR #BBW #interracial #werewolves #shifters #vampires #LGBTbooks @changelingpress @CynthiaSax @Lena_Austin

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Dire Wolves (Box Set) (Dire Wolves Multi-Author 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Blind Spot by Cynthia Sax: Years ago, Pavel lost his eye, three members of his pack and his position as alpha. Can Maggy help him find a reason to live again?

Whiteout by Shelby Morgen: Zan gives John a reason to want to live as a man again. But before he can make that kind of promise, he’s got unfinished business to take care of.

Silence by Lena Austin: Noel Miller, a vampire with a few scars of his own, wants to be more than Cam’s sign language interpreter. If only the werewolf will let him into his life — and heart.

White Heat by Shelby Morgen: Heather Grant’s got far too much experience working with stubborn males. She figures it would serve both Alphas right if their pride blows their cover. But someone’s got to salvage the mission.

 

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PRAISE FOR DIRE WOLVES BOX SET

“…a collection that grabs the reader, takes them on a journey, and ensures some cold showers. Erotic, captivating, and deliciously carnal are how I would describe The Dire Wolves Anthology. It is definitely worth reading, worth adding to one’s reading library, and well worth re-reading.”

— 4 Stars from Nikki, Sensuous Reviews
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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019
Excerpt from Silence by Lena Austin

“Danse Macabre” was a lousy choice for a ring tone, but Detective Cameron Douglas always thought about it when he had the least amount of time to change the ring to something else. The tune was the last he’d ever hear. Cam didn’t know that sad fact, or he’d have changed the ring sooner.

Cam snatched the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open as soon as he saw it was his boss, Lt. Kraynak. “Hey, Mark! You caught me just leaving the mayor’s office.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s voice always sounded nervous, but at that moment, he sounded as squeaky as a girl. Cam always wondered if Mark was as closet gay as Cam himself. “How’d it go?”

Cam sighed. The investigation into the death of the mayor’s secretary, Margaret Lund, was supposed to be kept very quiet and low-key. “We got the blood from her apartment at the lab, looking for DNA. They seem to be consistent with the defensive marks found on her body despite floating around in the St. John’s River for a while. I’ve got a few good leads.” He had to be vague. Cam couldn’t exactly tell his boss he was a werewolf and he’d caught an odd, masculine scent in Margaret’s apartment. He knew any sort of masculine odor didn’t belong in that apartment because Margaret and his mother had been lovers for over twenty years. Not exactly what you want the whole world to know. Mom had been in the closet all her life, and he wasn’t about to out her when she was mourning “Aunt Maggie’s” death. Dad would turn over in his grave, the day care she’d run for fifteen years would close, and her life would be in ruins. What she and Maggie had enjoyed just wasn’t ever going to be public, and that wasn’t admissible evidence anyway.

He could see it now. Him, on the witness stand. “Yes, Your Honor. I’m a werewolf you see, and I sniffed this odor…” He winced, even to himself.

“I don’t like it, Cam. You shouldn’t be on this case. Ms. Lund was your mother’s best friend. You could be called prejudiced in court.” Mark popped another gumball in his mouth. Cam heard it rattle against his teeth before it crackled as he chewed it into oblivion. Mark’d been trying to quit smoking again, and kept a gumball bank on his desk.

“I don’t like it, either, Mark. Where His Honor got the idea I’d be the only detective who could do the job is beyond me.” Cam was in sight of his car at last. The covered parking garage across the street from City Hall was a piece of shit like all the rest of downtown. Half the security cameras didn’t work at the best of times, and the roof leaked whenever it rained. So where was he parked? On the roof. In the rain. Of course. So he was wet. It was Florida. Not like he would melt. He was a werewolf, not a witch, and this wasn’t Hollyweird.

The beep in his ear made him jump, and the caller ID told him it was Mom. “Hey, I’m at my car. Hang on a sec.” Cam flipped over to his mother’s call and sat down on a bench about fifty feet from his car, in the shelter covering the elevator. “Hi, Mom.” He frowned and noticed the hood of his car was slightly ajar. That was odd. He distinctly remembered changing the oil the previous Sunday and slamming the hood closed because he hated working in the hot sun.

He never heard her answer. Hell, he never heard anything except the biggest boom on the planet.

Waking up wasn’t like someone flipped on a light switch. It was more like a lazy Sunday morning when you didn’t have to be anywhere or do anything in particular, so you could roll over and laze in bed. That is, until your bladder or some other bodily need woke you up.

What woke him up was pain. Cam had the worst headache ever, even beyond hangovers and mild concussions from playing rugby. Cam felt like he’d been run over by a semi, too, with a backache from lying in one position too long on top of assorted injuries. Worst of all was the ringing in his ears. Tinnitus, he guessed. Not bad, since Cam had to assume he’d survived that explosion. Hell, he counted himself lucky when he opened his eyes and saw his left leg in bandages, not a cast. If a headache, a bum leg, and a case of tinnitus were all he had to suffer through, Cam was happy.

A nurse peeked in. She saw Cam was awake and smiled at him. Her lips moved, but he couldn’t hear her over the ringing in his ears. She frowned when Cam told her she’d have to speak up, and would she bring him something for the headache and tinnitus? She turned around and walked out without another word. She was back with something she shot into his IV. Whatever it was put him out like a light. Pain, tinnitus, and consciousness all went away at once.

When next Cam could put two words together in a coherent sentence, the clock on the wall and the darkness out the window gave him a clue it was 7:30 PM, not AM. He’d slept away the whole day. Great. Now his ears were sore.

A young man in a lab coat read a book in the corner chair, even though the only light source was the fluorescent above the head of Cam’s bed. The guy’s eyesight must have been superlative. He looked up slowly, and Cam was completely arrested — pardon the pun — by his eyes. They were big, blue and so world-weary Cam wanted to — maybe buy the kid a cup of coffee and give him a sympathetic ear. Then the newcomer smiled, and the world was all sunshine and cheer. The young man tapped on the keyboard of his laptop without taking his gaze off Cam’s face.

Cam moved restlessly under that intense blue gaze that did not in the least match with the smile. Cam opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when the screen on a laptop left on his lap table brightened. He frowned and studied the screen. “Can you read this?” Surprised, Cam nodded without thinking.

The blue-eyed man smiled and nodded. “Good. How’s your tinnitus?” lit up on the screen in a standard IM chat feature of a common website.

“Um… should I answer aloud?” Cam felt suddenly adrift in a strange sea, unsure of himself for the first time since college. Still, he did an internal check, and the buzzing still filled his ears like a thousand crickets on speed. “Yep, still have the crickets.” The realization hit him. “The explosion caused this tinnitus, didn’t it?”

“Yes, Mr. Douglas. Please speak more softly.” The IM kept up easily, and the young man’s hands flew silently but rapidly over the tiny keyboard. Damn, this guy was good.

Oops. Cam wasn’t stupid. He knew that those with hearing issues often spoke too loudly, trying to over-compensate for their loss. He modified his volume. “Um. Sorry.” He clung to the thin thread of hope that the tinnitus was causing his hearing loss, but he knew a bunch of cops who’d neglected ear protection at the shooting range once too often. Tinnitus could be permanent, or worse, the symptom of something much, much worse.

The IM lit up with several lines in rapid succession. “My name is Noel Miller, and I am your ENT therapist.” Now the cheer was gone, and the face serious.

Cam’s heart hammered, and he swallowed to help his suddenly dry mouth. Fear, ice-cold and cruel, raced up his spine. Part of him was grateful he still had painkillers in his system. Deep inside himself, a little kid threw a major temper tantrum, even if he held himself rigidly under control. “I’m deaf, aren’t I?”

 

More from Lena at Changeling Press…

Someone cursed Lena Austin with “may you have a life so full you’ll have many tales to tell your grandchildren.” Lena’s a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She’s been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba — she’s got a lifetime of “Research material!”

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won’t listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something? See all her books at http://www.LenaAustin.com.

More from Cynthia at Changeling Press…

Some girls dreamed of knights in shining armor. Cynthia Sax dreamed of dragons, magnificent flying dragons. Being a bloodthirsty little thing, Cynthia usually dreamed of these dragons eating the damsels in distress. Now, she dreams of them doing… ahhh… more pleasurable things.

Cynthia is happily married. Although her hubby has not yet shown any shapeshifting abilities, he does buy her medieval princess costumes to wear around the house. Cynthia’s rather traditional mother-in-law now always calls before visiting. You can learn more about Cynthia by visiting her website at www.CynthiaSax.com, her blog at http://tasteofcyn.com, or email her directly at Cynthia@CynthiaSax.com.

More from Shelby at Changeling Press…

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

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

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

 

 

Gimme Shelter by Kate Steele #Futuristic #scifi #AlienEncounters #LGTBbooks #Gay #shifters @Kate27Steele @changelingpress

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Gimme Shelter (Set In Stone Multi-Author 8)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

Captive of a violent warrior race, deliberately injured and set adrift to die alone in space, Shanrem De Nebral is rescued by Zen Ahbramez and the crew of the starship Brizo.

For Shanrem, raised to be nothing more than property to be sold to the highest bidder, the freedom, friendship and love he finds aboard the Brizo is more than he ever dreamed of. But even the best of dreams end, and for Shanrem there’s nothing but trouble ahead.

With the near perfection bred into him in ruins, his own people would rather see him dead than returned and the Dukati warrior who owned him wants him back. To keep Shanrem safe and sheltered within his loving embrace, Zen’s strength and resolve will be tested to the limits.

Publisher’s Note: Gimme Shelter (Set in Stone) takes place in the same world as Kate Steele’s Switcher’s Rhapsody

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or pre-order for August 9th at:

   

 

PRAISE FOR GIMMER SHELTER

“A daring starship captain and an abused ex-slave who thinks of himself as worthless are at the center of some exciting turmoil that enables one to fullfil a long-term promise to himself and the other to find his courage. Their story had me cheering them along as I was enjoying the world, far in the future, these guys live in.”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews

“I loved the overall arc of the story. Ms. Steele does a great job of making me feel very connected to her characters and invested in them. I felt so very much for Shanrem… a great read any one who loves to fall in love should read.”

— 5 Stars from Redz, Redz World Reviews
cooltext315720815145635

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Steele

When the hangar bay doors were again secure, the safety zone doors automatically opened and Zen and Clay headed toward the shuttle. A chime informed them of an incoming transport. Both men paused and looked back as the bioport’s interior doors slid open. A tall man and a slim woman stepped out. Without a word, Clay handed each of them a holstered scorch pistol.

“Dukati shuttlecraft. Latest design too. We salvaging this baby?” Meral Jackson, ship’s engineer, asked as she belted on her weapon. Her hazel eyes twinkled with good-natured avarice. “I’d love to get my hands on her.”

“Why does something so innocuous sound so lewd coming out of your mouth?” Doc’s thin lips were pinched in a grimace as one eyebrow rose.

Jackson grinned. “Can I help it if I admire a shapely hull?”

“Shouldn’t you concentrate on getting the hatch open? Serk’s last report gives the passenger approximately seventeen minutes before the oxygen runs out.”

“Seventeen minutes? Piece of cake. I’ll have it open in less than two.”

Doc’s snort of disbelief brought a speculative gleam to Jackson’s eyes. “Wanna bet?”

“Bet what?”

“Five greens at the next poker game.”

“A hundred and twenty-five credits?”

“You in or out?”

Doc aimed a squinty-eyed scowl at Jackson. “In.”

“Time me.” Jackson turned her attention to the shuttle and dug into her tool pouch, which was perpetually attached to her by a cross-body strap.

Directing a look of sympathy toward the ship’s main medical practitioner, Zen shook his head. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been suckered, Doc.”

“We’ll see.”

As Zen watched, Jackson found whatever she’d been looking for and set to work. Muscles flexed under the smooth tanned skin of her bare arms as she punched a series of keys on the flat, rectangular unit she held in her hand. A slight turn of her head brought her profile into relief and set a few glimmers of light chasing through the strands of her blonde pixie-cut.

Having learned at her father’s knee from the time she was old enough to pick up a sonic wrench, Jackson knew her way around a multitude of ship types and systems. Zen had little doubt the shuttlecraft door would give her any trouble.

From the small unit she held in her hand, a continual series of chirps issued as a cycle of colored light beams played over the closed shuttle hatch. As the seconds passed, one by one each beam turned green.

“Twenty seconds,” Doc warned.

“No worries. It’s… done!” Jackson’s announcement was triumphant as the hatch slowly lifted. Stepping back, she made way as the steps began to lower.

“Damn,” Doc cursed softly. “Don’t you have anything better to do than practice breaking and entering?”

“For your information, nothing broke and no, I don’t. As ship’s engineer I see to it the Brizo performs like a Xanasian courtesan being paid double. Smooth and compliant.”

“You’d know.”

“A girl’s gotta have her fun.” Jackson’s unabashed wink brought a quick grin to Zen’s lips and snort of amusement from Clay.

All four of them quickly sobered as the now fully opened hatch ceased all movement. Zen motioned Jackson and Doc back. Weapons drawn, he and Clay approached the yawning hatch. Touching the small, round and flat metal disc attached to his collar, Zen voiced a soft question. “Serk, any change in the scans?”

“None, Captain. All readings remain within normal parameters. The passenger hasn’t moved. Nothing on long range scanners.”

The shuttle’s inner lights were dim, the interior shadowed, with no sign of the passenger. About to take a step forward, a quick negative motion from Clay stopped Zen in his tracks. Zen gave way and allowed his security officer to precede him. Clay went aft where the last scan placed the shuttle’s passenger. As soon as Clay stepped within the murky interior of the shuttle, Zen lost sight of him.

His own foray into the ship was accomplished without incident and he turned to the fore and the ship’s controls. Each space along the way was examined, between and under seats in case something had remained undetected. Every unoccupied space was clear and the shuttle quiet as a tomb.

Reaching the ship’s controls Zen gave them a quick once over. Except for the blinking lights indicating the failing life support system, everything else seemed in order.

“Captain?”

Zen touched his communications disc. “You find our guest?”

“Yeah. Can you bring up the lights? We need Doc in here on the double and he’s gonna need ’em.”

“Right away.”

Zen called Doc and Jackson in and adjusted the lighting while waiting for Jackson to join him at the controls. “Do a thorough exam on all systems, Jacks,” Zen ordered when she appeared. “Make sure this thing can’t be traced. Something doesn’t seem right here. Why would the life support fail? This shuttle’s so new the paint’s barely dried.”

“I’m on it, Zen.” Jackson seated herself at the controls and began running ship diagnostics.

Leaving Jackson to her work, Zen made his way back to Clay and Doc. The closer he came, the more pungent the scent. The coppery tang assaulting his heightened sense of smell weighed heavy on the still air. Doc was squatting near a body, his med scanner beeping and flashing in a way Zen could tell bode ill. Side-stepping Clay, Zen was able to take in the full picture. He drew in a sharp breath. What once had been a vision was now covered in blood and lay still as death on the deck.

The shuttle’s passenger was male. In contrast to the obsidian darkness of his softly curling hair, his skin was bone white. Sweat dampened bangs adhered to forehead and stuck there. His full lips were slightly parted and his finely chiseled, androgynous features were slack. His almost too-delicate-to-be-male appearance was emphasized by his current condition.

He wore a pair of near-diaphanous pants that hugged his body from the waist down like a second skin. Other than a pair of wide, embossed silver bracelets that encircled his wrists, his upper body was nude. The man lay on his stomach, his back clearly visible, the damage done to it horrendous. Thin strips of skin had been peeled away leaving raw open wounds that had bled profusely before clotting. Rusty spatters of blood had soaked into his pants, as well as the matted curls that touched the back of his neck.

Shock, fury and the raw reminder of a familial tragedy pummeled Zen in equal measure at the sight of such torture being visited on someone who appeared to be little more than a helpless captive. His hatred of the Dukati — something that was branded into his very soul — twisted within him.

 

More from Kate at Changeling Press …

Kate’s love of books started from the moment she read those fateful words: run, Spot, run! It took her awhile to discover that she didn’t have to just read and imagine, but that she could also write stories and so here she is writing romance and loving it. Like chocolate – her ultimate favorite food, with pizza running a close second – writing became addictive. Whether it’s paranormal, contemporary or science fiction about werewolves, otherworldly creatures or the average Joe, she can’t get enough.

As for the everyday details, Kate lives in a turn of the century house located in the midst of Indiana farm country, and is kept company by family, along with demanding dogs, contrary cats and a pair of occasionally sweet, and definitely noisy, lovebirds. When not writing, she reads, is an enthusiastic grower of iris, and a fanatic fan of Japanese manga and anime.

Website: http://www.katesteele.com

 

 

Start Me Up by Megan Slayer #PNR #scifi #Gay #LGBTbooks @MeganSlayer @changelingpress

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Start Me Up (Set In Stone Multi-Author 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Chris Jordan swore when his partner died in January of 1979, he’d never find another lover. He didn’t want another one. But six months later, he still yearns for the man he loved.

Chris finds a letter from Steve telling him to visit Start Me Up, an electronics store. What could his partner have planned? What he finds at the store blows his mind, but will he be able to accept the desires of his partner — especially a seemingly robotic version of Steve?

Only time and patience will tell if these two lovers can find the passion they shared or if Steve’s death meant the end of everything.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or pre-order for August 9th at:

   

 

PRAISE FOR START ME UP

“If you like stories with a touch of magic, if you think that two men who want to build a life together deserve a chance to do so, no matter what Fate may have decided, and if you’re looking for a slightly mysterious, entertaining, and very sweet read, then you will probably like this short story.”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
cooltext315720864903307

 

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Megan Slayer

1979

“I love you, Stephen Kyle.” Chris Jordan rested his head on the wall of the shower stall. He wound his fingers around his dick and stroked himself. Every nerve ending tingled and his body buzzed. He cupped his balls in his other hand and widened his stance. His knees wobbled. The more he thrust into his fingers, the closer he got to coming apart. He needed this. Needed to be wanted and excited.

He rested his head against the tiles and groaned. Dear God, he wanted a dick in his ass. Wanted to come apart and be held. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. His throat ached.

Fucking hell. He gritted his teeth. “Steve,” he bit out. His strokes turned feral and he tensed. The muscles in his legs trembled. Heat overwhelmed him, despite the chilly water. The shiver started low in his body and overwhelmed him in a second as the climax hit.

Chris bowed his head and opened his eyes. Cum shot across the stall and down the curtain. Cold water sprayed down on him, but did little to bring him out of the post-orgasm fervor. Everything within him sagged. He slid to the floor and drew his knees to his chest. He rested his forehead on his knees and sighed.

He missed his lover — his partner, Steve.

Chris blinked back tears and reached up to turn off the water. He needed to get back to his life. But was it really living if his partner wasn’t there? He finally scrambled to his feet, then yanked the towel from the rack. Being alone sucked.

He missed Steve. They were supposed to be looking forward to the 1980s together and proving to the world that gay couples could grow old together. Not now. Not since Steve got the gay cancer and died. The epidemic had ripped through the gay community, seeming to strike at random at first and ravaging friends — with seemingly no cure. At least there hadn’t been a cure in time to save Steve.

Chris left the bathroom and dropped the towel on the floor. If his partner had been there, he would’ve reminded Chris to pick it up. “Hang it on the rack,” he’d say. “It won’t dry unless it’s hung up.”

He’d get there. He yanked a pair of underwear and running shorts from the dresser. Once he donned the clothing, he snatched the towel from the carpet. He draped the towel across the curtain rod. Not the rack, but who cared?

He grabbed a T-shirt from the laundry basket. Doing chores wasn’t as fun without Steve around. When his partner was still there, they’d turn the tasks into games. Whoever lost made love to the other. Inevitably they both won, even if they lost.

He shrugged the shirt over his head and stuck his arms through the sleeves, then sank onto the bed. According to his friend Dom, he had to get back into life. Sure. Easy for Dom to say — he spent his nights at the clubs and never went home alone. He also never stuck with the same guy or girl for more than a few days. Commitment freaked Dom out. Not Chris. He needed a partner. As soon as he met Steve, he knew — he’d found his partner.

He stared at the photos still stuck in the frame around the mirror. Him and Steve grinning in the sand on the beach at Maumee, standing in front of one of the roller coasters at the local amusement park, at the reception for Steve’s sister, Mimi. His heart ached. He and Steve were expected to come together, but to tell everyone they were just friends. Steve’s family never accepted them as a couple.

He’d memorized every detail of Steve’s face and knew his partner inside and out. The images comforted him. He crossed the room and touched the frame around the photo of him and Steve in their suits. He noticed the envelope behind the picture and winced. He’d been given the envelope during the reading of Steve’s will. The only reason he’d even been invited to the reading had been because their mutual friend, Lew, had written the will and insisted on giving Chris the letter or whatever had been contained in the envelope.

Should he finally crack the seal? Six months since Steve’s death hadn’t made the hurt go away or even lessen a bit. He touched the corner of the envelope. Fear hit him hard. He’d put the thing away and tried to forget about it, but every time he looked at the photos, his curiosity piqued. Would there be something bad in the letter? Something good? He’d never know until he opened it.

He left the bedroom in favor of the kitchen. If he was going to finally open the envelope, he needed wine. Beer. Whatever he had in the fridge containing alcohol. Hell, he’d take whiskey right about now and he wasn’t into the harder stuff.

He poured dark red liquid into a plastic tumbler, then climbed onto the counter to sit. He kept the glass beside him, but didn’t drink.

His heart hammered and he flexed his fingers a couple of times before he picked up the envelope.

“Here goes nothin’,” he murmured. He tore open the back and pressed his lips together. A piece of paper slipped free and fluttered onto his lap…

 

 

More from Megan at Changeling Press …

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

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

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

Megan can be found at https://www.facebook.com/theauthormeganslayer.