My Dragon, My Dom by Dulce Dennison #GayRomance #LGBT #shifters #paranormalromance #holidayromance #Christmasromance

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Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Officer Corbin Richters has gone through more partners than he can count. They all claim he’s difficult to work with, but he knows better. They’re scared being gay might be something they can catch. Idiots. When he’s assigned yet another partner, his inner dragon perks up and takes notice. Josh is different from anyone he’s ever met. Unfortunately, he’s also human.

When the two are tasked with getting Christmas trees for families in need, they never count on growing close. The more time Corbin spends with Josh, the more certain he becomes the man is his mate.

*NOTE: This is a re-release that has been freshly edited and has a new cover.

 

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SNEAK PEEK

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Dulce Dennison

Corbin Richters watched the sexy-as-hell man walking through the door of the precinct, his blue uniform fitted snugly to his shoulders and chest, silver badge gleaming under the fluorescent lights, his stride powerful and purposeful as he approached Captain Meeker. The dark hair on his head stood out in disarray but it was artfully done, the waves beckoning to be touched in an intimate caress. His eyes looked green from this distance, and they took everything in with a swift assessment that said he was ready for whatever danger that might be lurking within the precinct walls. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a rookie. No one got that hard-edged look, the look of a predator, the first day on the job.

Corbin’s heart kicked in his chest and his hands clenched on top of the desk. What he wouldn’t give to peel away that uniform and see what lay beneath the crisp, blue material. He unconsciously licked his lips as he thought about trailing kisses along those broad shoulders. Corbin’s skin heated and his cock twitched in his pants. He felt his scales ripple under his skin and fought for control. Hell, here he was fantasizing over the man, and he wasn’t even sure if the cop was into men or women. Or both. It had been a long time since he’d had such a reaction to someone on first sight, and he wanted to explore the feelings a bit more.

“Damn.” He sneaked a quick glance around. Had he said that out loud?

Corbin watched as the officer shook hands with the captain and then as Captain Meeker pointed at Corbin. Why on earth was the captain sending Mr. Sexy his way? Not that he was going to complain! Still, he had to admit to being curious. What did the man’s voice sound like? Would he offer to shake hands? Would that small contact arouse Corbin’s dragon even more? The beast was already more than a little intrigued.

The object of his desire strode across the room with panther-like grace, his movements fluid and beautiful, and stopped at the edge of Corbin’s desk. The officer flashed him a smile, one that had his dragon — lusty beast — perking up considerably, and held out his hand.

Corbin stood and shook it, an electrical current shooting up his arm, swirling down through his chest, and settling in his balls, making them draw up tight. His cock gave another jerk, but if the officer noticed — and something told Corbin that he had — he wasn’t commenting on it. Corbin had thought the man would pack a punch, but it still took him by surprise, this visceral reaction. He couldn’t remember the last time his dragon and he had been in total agreement on their choice of bed partners.

The man’s voice was crisp and clipped as he introduced himself. “Josh Myers.”

“Corbin Richters.” Corbin released Josh’s hand reluctantly before he did something stupid, like jerk him closer for a different sort of embrace. As it was, he wanted to bury his nose against the man’s neck and inhale that incredible scent that was teasing him.

“It seems I’m your new partner,” Josh said.

Partner? Corbin shot the captain a look. No one had said anything about a new partner. Corbin had only been part of the Blueberry Hill Police Department for a little over a month, having been lucky enough to land the job within a week of hitting town. And yet he’d already gone through two partners. The men had claimed Corbin was too rough and rude, but he knew the truth. They didn’t care that he was black. They hadn’t wanted to work with a gay officer. Probably afraid it would rub off on them or some stupid shit like that.

“I take it this is news to you,” Josh said, that gorgeous smile flirting around his lips again. Lips that looked full and soft, the kind of lips a man could kiss forever.

Corbin cleared his throat, hoping to get better control of himself. “Yeah, I hadn’t heard that I was getting a new partner today.” He met Josh’s gaze. “But I’m glad you’re here.” Too direct?

Josh’s smile broadened and there was something in his eyes, a warmth that told Corbin his advances might be welcome. He supposed time would tell. It was possible the guy was just being friendly and he was reading into things.

Corbin pointed to the desk butting up to his. “That will be your space. There should be some supplies in the drawer, but if not, we can ask the receptionist on our way out.”

“Hitting the streets early?”

“I thought we’d swing by Espress Yourself and grab some coffee. There’s no charge to officers for a regular brewed cup, and they usually have a few different flavors going. You have to pay for those fancy drinks though.”

Josh smiled again. “Sounds good. I can check out the desk when we get back.”

“The black SUV near the back is ours.”

Josh scanned him from head to toe. “I’m guessing your size has something to do with us getting the biggest vehicle. What are you? Six foot four?”

Corbin grinned. “Six-six.” Not that Josh was short. He had to be at least six-two.
They strolled out of the rear precinct door and headed to the SUV. Corbin popped the locks with the key fob and slid in.

“So…” Josh glanced his way as he snapped his seatbelt into place. “Your place or mine?”

 

MORE FROM DULCE AT CHANGELING PRESS …

With an overactive imagination and a penchant for making up stories, was it any wonder Dulce Dennison decided to be an author? From cowboys to shapeshifters, she has a story for them all, but her passion lies in writing m/m romances. Dulce believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.

Dulce Dennison is a pen name for erotic romance author Harley Wylde and award-winning science fiction/paranormal romance author Jessica Coulter Smith.

 

 

Cuckold’s for Christmas by Stephanie Burke #Christmas #holidayromance #newrelease #interraciallove

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Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

After having her heart broken by a cheating ex, wealthy and disabled divorcee Emma-Jean Lawson twists her misfortune into an empowering statement… by opening up an all-male strip club named Cuckold’s. Now all she has to do is find her star dancer.

Noel Winters has a big wet problem. The once Principal Dancer for the Paris Ballet has turned to teaching his beloved dance to others after a career ending injury, but now a busted water heater, just in time for Christmas, has him seeking other means of income to keep his business afloat. An ad from Cuckold’s catches his attention. It can’t be that hard being an exotic dancer, can it?

When Emma and Noel meet, there’s an instant attraction, but is sex alone enough to hold a relationship steady? And where did the guys with guns come from? Suddenly their happily ever after is looking grim, but with two of the most magical allies helping along the way, maybe they will pull it together in time to have a happy holiday after all.

 

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or pre-order at retailers for December 20th

   

 

For a NSFW SNEAK PEEK visit Changeling Press

 

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.

 

 

Mazes & Mistletoe by Ayla Ruse #holidayromance #paranormalromance #newrelease

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Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Trevor runs the Puzzle and Games Workshop of the North Pole. Most think him quiet and ordinary, but no one knows about his fierce desire for the sexy owner of the day care center — not even the owner herself. If only he could get up the nerve to go meet her…

Missy, owner of The Little Care day care, harbors the biggest crush on the cute Elf from the Puzzle Workshop across the way. As much as she’d love to march over there and see what happens between them, she won’t, because she knows the results of her magic will be worse than unrequited lust.

When an encounter in a Christmas Maze brings them together, Missy and Trevor discover magic is tangible, mazes aren’t for the shy and awkward, and true love might be found under the mistletoe.

 

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or pre-order for December 20th at retailers

   

 

SNEAK PEEK

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Ayla Ruse

“The maze is going great, Trevor. Everyone who comes out is laughing and wanting to do it again. I’ve even heard a few say it’s the best attraction at this year’s Winter Fair.”

“That’s good to hear, Lulu. I think next year we’ll take Tommy’s suggestion and add a photo booth at the end.”

“That would be the best,” Lulu heartily agreed. “Or have mini photo opportunities at each dead end. I’m sure there’s some funny things that happen there, too.”

Trevor mused over this for a moment. “You have a point. Then at the end, the participants can decide which, if any, photos they’d want.” He started planning, speaking quickly and quietly as he became lost in thought. “I’d have to get in touch with the Electronics department, and we’d have to hire more help for the maze, but then we’d have extra profit from any pictures that’d be purchased and –”

His plans were cut off by Lulu’s loud shout. “Hey, Miss! You can’t go in there without purchasing a ticket!”

Trevor turned just in time to see an Elf shoot off into the Dead End Maze like her skirts were on fire.

“Damn it,” Lulu fussed. “Tommy won’t be back from break for another fifteen minutes. I hate to ask this of you, Trevor, but could you man the booth and let me run that freeloader down?”

Him be in charge of the booth? No way. The less he had to interact with groups of people he didn’t know, the better. Tracking down one lone female Elf would definitely be the safer choice.

“How about I go in after her? You’re faster with the whole ticket stuff, and I did design the maze, so I’ll be able to get around in there quicker.”

“Would you? That’d be great. Thanks! I’ll call in to the end of the maze to let those guys know what to expect if you don’t show up with her.”

“Sounds good. And I can call them too if any problems arise.”

He’d not been in the spacious maze for even a minute when he ran across the mysterious Elf. She’d found herself caught in one of the famous dead ends and probably couldn’t figure out how to get out. Of course, if she’d stopped at the booth, Lulu would have explained the rules.

A thin, frosted wall separated her from and him and kept her in the dead end zone. He sighed and made his way down the ice-walled corridor to rescue her. But when she turned around and her eyes settled on him with a grateful look of one who believes help has arrived, he stopped in his tracks.

It was her. It was that gorgeous little curly-headed blonde Elf that ran the day care across the field from his office. Every day, at ten, one and three on the dot, he stopped work to stare out his narrow floor-to-ceiling window to catch sight of her. He couldn’t remember her name, knew she ran the center only because he’d overheard one of his co-workers mention it in a conversation he’d overheard, but she was his. Well, his fantasy at any rate. He couldn’t stop the inward grin. And she was stuck in his maze.

He finally stepped closer when she waved her arms, like she was trying to get his attention. Little did she know she had his undivided attention. He approached and hit the hidden release button on the side of the wall. The thin, frosted barrier opened, and he swallowed, but couldn’t speak. She was more beautiful up close than he’d ever imagined. Angel-blonde hair cascaded around her face and shoulders in a wild array of curls. She had tiny, narrow ears that peeked out from her curls just enough to tease him with wanting to touch, to caress. A light dusting of freckles sprinkled across her nose and deep-chocolate eyes stared back at him. She wrung her hands together and looked worried. Maybe she thought, now that she’d been caught, that she’d be in trouble? She nibbled on her perfectly pink bottom lip and he stifled a groan, wanting to be the one to do the nibbling.

He tried to say “hi,” but it came out broken. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Um, hi. I’m Trevor. You ran into the Maze without a ticket.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Maybe you could help me? I’ll pay for the tickets when we get out if that’d be okay? You see, my name is Missy, and I run the Little Care Day Care off Ice Cap Street. Today is field trip day, and I’m afraid one of my charges took off. I saw him heading this direction, and this Maze is the only attraction in this part of the Fair. I kept everyone away from this area because I don’t like this kind of stuff, but I guess he knew about it? Could you help me find him?”

Her plea, combined with her softly wringing hands and full, doe-like eyes, melted him on the spot. He nodded silently, knowing he’d do anything for this female.

“Oh, thank you,” she gushed, laying a hand on his arm for a brief moment. He stuffed his hands in his pocket; he’d felt deliciously singed from her touch. She rushed on, “His name is Zack, and he’s not usually a naughty Elf, but maybe since his parents just had a baby girl, he’s feeling left out? I don’t know. I might have to talk to Taryn and find out… Oh, I’m sorry, sometimes I tend to carry on. Anyway, I don’t think he’d do anything bad, but he might put a few holes in the walls?”

“Holes? A little Elf can do that?”

She pointed to the wall to his right, and sure enough, a small hole was in the wall. It couldn’t be bigger than a hole an artic hare would dart through and was hardly noticeable. “How…”

“Well, he is half demon and he tends to have hot hands from time to time. His father is teaching him to control it, but,” here she looked around at the dead end they were in, “in a place like this…” She shook her head and a worried frown creased her brow. “I’ll pay for the damages, I promise. Could you please just help me locate him?”

Trevor wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her he’d take care of everything but bucked up and reminded himself to be practical. He shouldn’t touch her — yet. “I’ll help you find him. It won’t be a problem. In fact, let me call the Elves at the end of the Maze so they can keep a look out for him, too.”

“Would you? I really appreciate it.”

Trevor tapped his watch and called Lulu. She confirmed that she hadn’t seen any little Elves enter. Then he called the exit team, only to hear that yes, a little one had emerged and, since he was without an adult, they were keeping him occupied with hot chocolate and peppermint drops and would watch over him until they came out. When Missy heard this, she sighed audibly.

“Thank you! Now, can you show me the way out? I’ll gather Zack and go back around front to pay for both tickets.”

Trevor might be a quiet one when it came to strangers, but he wasn’t a fool. The entire time they’d been talking, he knew he had the Elf of his dreams, trapped, so to speak, and at his will, in this maze of his own design. He’d never forgive himself if he let her simply walk away. He did know how to take advantage of unexpected opportunities.

 

MORE FROM AYLA AT CHANGELING PRESS …

Handed a historical romance at the age of twelve, Ayla Ruse fell in love with love and with happy endings. Having grown up living life tasting a little of this and a little of that has not changed this attitude, but it’s expanded her views. Love isn’t always happy and it isn’t always the way a person “thinks it should be.” Sometimes it’s outside the box, and it’s always a challenge.

The challenge of finding and holding onto this love is what drives Ayla in her fiction. She likes stories that strip love — among other things — down to the skin and tests the attachment and beliefs of the participants. Sometimes that test can come in the form of multiple partners, overcoming a desperate fear or even being sexually inventive.

 

 

Viper (Bones MC) by Marteeka Karland #bikerbooks #holidayromance #newadult

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Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland

 

Who knew I’d find my destiny at Christmas? Not me. Or her daddy. Don’t mean I ain’t keeping her.

Darcy: I didn’t run away from a sadistic stepfather and a mother who wouldn’t protect me just to be carted off by some strange man. I fought the son of a bitch. Woulda won, too, except the bastard had help.

Viper’s rough around the edges and some kind of badass biker, so there’s no way this is going to work out well. Unfortunately, he calls to me on a purely sexual level. Makes my heart race and my body melt just looking at me. It doesn’t help he’s actually nice to me. He claims to know my dad. My real dad. Says he’s been sent to bring me back. I have no idea if I believed him or not. Just don’t really have a choice but to go along. At least for now.

Viper: I tracked the cunning little wench for three fuckin’ days. In the fuckin’ snow. She’s good, too. She survived on her own in a hostile environment with only a little trouble. That alone would make me respect for her, but then she had to go and kick me in the balls. Had I not been on the ground in agony, I’d have been turned on beyond belief. Now, with her safely under my protection, I’ve got to figure out how to keep my hands off her so her father won’t kill my sorry ass. He’s our intel man and one of my best friends, so I don’t want to cause him grief. But I want Darcy. Badly.

It’s Christmas Eve, and there’s an enemy on our doorstep with a unique gift. One that will leave us all with some hard choices — Darcy especially. What unfolds next is something none of us ever planned for.

Warning: Viper (Bones MC 4) deals with issues of abuse and human trafficking that may be triggers for some readers.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or pre-order for December 20th at retailers

   

 

SNEAK PEEK

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Marteeka Karland

Winter hung heavy in the hills of Kentucky. One thing Viper hated was winter. Not because of the cold, snow, and ice, but because of the absolute silence in the outdoors. It made hunting that much more difficult. Normally, he enjoyed a challenge, but when the prey was human, there could be nothing to give him away. He’d been on her trail for three days now. There had been no sign of a fire or that she’d sheltered anywhere other than a snow dome she’d built to block the wind and keep in as much of her body heat as she could.

She was good, he’d give her that. He’d been in the service with men who couldn’t do what she could, especially given the few resources she had. As far as he could tell, she had nothing but the clothes on her back. One thing was for sure, once he got her back to the Bones compound, she had some explaining to do.

“Anything yet?” Data sounded anxious. And with good reason. Their intel and communications man had only just found out the he had a daughter, and only because her mother had called exactly three days ago — an hour before Viper and Arkham had been set on her trail — and informed him. Though the woman had remarried several years earlier, she kept in touch with Data. Why, Viper didn’t know. That was Data’s story and one he’d have to share with his daughter. Apparently, the only reason his ex had told him about Darcy now was because she’d run off, and her mother was done with the girl. Couldn’t deal with Darcy any more. Data’s daughter was her daddy through and through. Though Viper had no idea what Darcy had done, it was enough to make her mother and the woman’s husband abandon Darcy while the couple and their other two daughters — not Data’s — went to California on vacation. Data had been livid. Viper had a feeling his next assignment would be to hunt down the girl’s mother and stepfather and teach them a lesson.

“I’m just that little bit behind her, brother. Another hour and I should have her, though.”

“She’s one little girl! You’re a big bad Marine sniper! This shouldn’t be that fuckin’ hard!” Viper raised his eyebrows. Data was normally a by-the-numbers kind of man. He never got excited unless it was warranted. Kind of like when he realized his crew was in the middle of El Diablo’s muscle with only one team and minimal backup.

“Relax, brother.” Arkham sounded almost bored when Viper knew he was alert and watching as intently as he was. “Girl’s wily. Uses the landscape for cover. Even found a snow dome where she slept last night.”

“She can’t last out there forever with no fire. Rein her in!”

Viper knew when a man was on the edge. Didn’t take a genius to know Data was there. “We got this, brother. We’ll have her back at the compound by tomorrow.” It was a hard promise, but one Viper intended to keep. He ground his teeth. One little girl indeed.

Light was fading in the winter sky. Clouds hung heavily, promising more snow after nightfall if not sooner. Nothing stirred around them. Animals huddled down to wait out the coming storm. Even the evergreen trees were still in the slight breeze. The silence was nearly total.

“Got her,” Arkham muttered through his earpiece. “Your four o’clock. She just sat on a fallen log.” There was a pause while Viper looked in the indicated direction. “She’s done, Viper. I’m headed in.”

Sure enough, the girl sat on the long about a hundred yards away. She looked up at the sky, then at her surroundings and put her head in her hands. Yep. She was done.

Viper made his way to her as Arkham came at her from the opposite direction. They were almost on her before she realized she wasn’t alone. Immediately she slipped off the log and crouched into a defensive position, grabbing a rock beside her to use as a weapon.

She didn’t say a word. Viper expected to see fear in her eyes, and perhaps there was. But mostly what he saw was a cold, hard determination.

“We’re not gonna hurt you,” Viper said, hands out in front of him as he approached her.

“I know,” she said, her voice a whisper of sound.

“Viper!” It was the only warning Arkham could issue before the girl attacked. She launched herself at Viper. In reflex, he caught her.

Two things happened when he closed his arms around her. First, Viper recognized she was more than a girl. The woman had curves aplenty, two of which were mashed against his chest, rubbing over him with every movement of her body. Second, the woman was fucking fierce. Viper was perfectly capable of defending himself, but he was hesitant to do anything for fear of hurting her. So she pummeled him with that fucking rock. By sheer luck, she didn’t catch his head with it, only his jaw. Viper retained his hold on her with one arm securely around her waist while using the other to block her blows as best he could. For such a small little thing, she packed quite a punch! Despite his efforts, she still connected several times before Arkham disarmed her. Bastard didn’t help him any more than that. And still, she fought. Apparently frustrated with her lack of progress, Darcy shrieked, kicking out and continuing to hit at him with her fists.

“Knock it the fuck off, woman!” Viper finally set her on her feet and captured her wrists in his hands and wrapped his arms around her, trapping her with his superior strength. “Look at me, Darcy!” Viper used every ounce of command he possessed. In the end, it was probably the use of her name that made her pause in her tirade. “Look at me!” When she gave him a wary look he took a breath. “Your father sent us to find you and bring you home.”

“I’m not going back! I’m old enough to make my own decisions, and I’ll be damned if I go back to that bastard!” Her struggles resumed. She tried to hike her knee up into his groin, but he managed to avoid it, pulling her tighter against him. It was getting exceedingly hard to ignore the lush curves pressed against him. The woman was tempting in the worst way.

“You’ve never even met your dad,” Viper said, struggling to hold her while not hurting her. “I assure you, he’s a good man.”

“Rayburn, my stepdad, is a molesting bastard and my mom is nothing more than his pimp! I’ll kill both of them and you before I go back!”

Viper was so shocked, he relaxed his hold for a second, giving the girl enough leverage to break free. Darcy promptly kicked him in the balls before spinning around to flee again. Arkham caught her, spun her back around, and zip-tied her hands behind her back, ensuring he didn’t get a repeat of what Viper got. Once she was secured, he looped a length of rope around her waist and tied her to a tree.

“That should take care of that.” Arkham turned his attention to Viper, kneeling down beside his biker brother. “You gonna be all right?”

“Shut the fuck up, you smug bastard.” Viper tried to sound menacing, but it was hard to do when his balls were stinging. Didn’t help with him down on one knee looking up at the big man, either.

“Just trying to help a brother out.” Arkham raised his hands in surrender before turning back to their prisoner.

“You gonna fight me, girl?”

“You gonna try to take me back to that hellhole?” She had to look up at Arkham, but Darcy didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. In fact, she looked to be sizing him up, looking for the easiest way to take him down.

“Hadn’t planned on it,” he said.

When Arkham didn’t offer anything else, Viper added, “It’s your biological father who sent us. We’re takin’ you back to the clubhouse.”

She looked from Arkham to Viper. “Biological father. Clubhouse?”

“Yeah.” Viper groaned as he got to his feet. “Look. I’m Viper. This is Arkham. We’ve been huntin’ you for three fuckin’ days, sweetheart. I’d like to get out of the fuckin’ snow.”

 

MORE FROM MARTEEKA AT CHANGELING PRESS …

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

 

 

What I Did for Love by Mickey J. Corrigan

What I Did for Love
Mickey J Corrigan
Published by: Bloodhound Books
Publication date: October 28th 2019
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

What happens when a teacher falls for her student?

After her seventeen-year-old student fails to live up to his potential in class, Cathriona O’Hale conducts a parent teacher meeting with the boy’s widowed father. He is attractive, intelligent, and exceedingly wealthy, everything an unmarried middle-aged woman would normally find appealing.

But Cath is not your average forty-something. She’s a wild card who has a crush on the man’s teenage son.

Cath finds herself juggling father and son while battling the true source of her lust and forbidden love. So when the father of the object of her obsession proposes, she has a choice to make:

Love or crime?

And when her decision is made, the consequences might just be deadly…

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Book Trailer

 

Excerpt: What I Did for Love
My story is a tangle of roses, stones, and broken glass. Someone had to bleed.

“If he doesn’t turn in the paper by Monday, I will have to give him an incomplete for the term,” I told Mojito’s father, a tall graying man with a sincere handshake and a shy smile. “And I don’t want to do that. He could do so well if he took the time to focus on this class.”
I always said that kind of thing to the concerned parents. Usually, it was bunk. But in this case, it was largely true. Mojito was not like most of my students. They tended to be disinterested kids of average intelligence with zero motivation to tap what they’d been given. Mojito was different. Capable, ambitious, and from what I could see in class, highly intelligent.
Mr. Mojito nodded, his handsome face serious. “I understand, Ms. O’Hale. I will make this quite clear to him tonight at dinner.” He began to rise from the metal chair, then sat down again with a sigh. He looked at me across my cluttered desk. His eyes were like a wolf’s, but lacked guile. I thought he might be a good man. “His mother left us when Mojito was only six. I have done my best but I can only pray he doesn’t go off-track.”
The way he was looking at me indicated his mind was not on his son’s immediate future but, instead, his own.
He cleared his throat. I thought, here it comes. The why don’t we continue this discussion over a nice bottle of wine?
I stiffened. Yes, he was attractive. And he dressed like he had class, and plenty of money. But I would never date the parent of one of my students. One of my students, maybe. But not the old man.
He caught my eyes and scooped them up, his smile so sweet it was unnerving. “I was wondering…”
They are always wondering, these mature self-confident men. Wondering what it would take to seduce their kid’s teacher. The old maid who existed only for her students. A creature of negative space who lived alone, drank tea with lemon, and pet her slinky cat while marking up homework papers in red ink.
“Would you join us for dinner one night? We would love to have you to the house. Mojito speaks highly of you. He tells me you have read all the classics. I too love literature.”
Mr. Mojito reached over to put a hand on mine. His skin was cool, pampered, soft. Yes, he was definitely wealthy. This was not a man who held hammers, crowbars, tire irons, dead fish. His manicure was nicer than mine.
Swiftly, I stood up, pulling my hand away. Then I thanked Mr. Mojito for meeting with me to discuss my concerns about his son’s schoolwork.
And so it began. The beginning of everything, the end of everything. How poetic. For so long I was nobody. Now I am everybody’s nightmare.

 

Author Bio:

Originally from Boston, Mickey J. Corrigan writes pulp fiction, literary crime, and psychological thrillers. Her stories have been called “gritty realism,” “oh so compulsive” reads, and “bizarre but believable.” Her novellas and novels have been released by publishers in the US, UK, Canada, and Australia. Salt Publishing in the UK released her satirical crime novel about a school shooting in 2017. Visit at http://www.mickeyjcorrigan.com

Website / Goodreads

 

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Enraptured: The Discovery by Barbara Bretton #PNR #holidays

Holiday Songs
I’m not a fan of Christmas
decorations popping up the week before Halloween, but when it comes to holiday
music, all bets are off. We all know that music has magical properties that
defy logic. Two random notes from an old top ten hit and suddenly you’re
fifteen again, crushing over the boy next door.
Now multiply that burst of
emotion by one hundred and you have the magic of holiday music. And not just
the standard (and wonderful) Christmas carols. Some surprising choices have
been known to sneak onto my list of favorites. See if you agree.
Feliz Navidad – Shoprite has the
clever habit of blasting Jose Feliciano’s version throughout the store and
every time it sends me dancing up the aisles, buying way more stuff than any
normal human being could possible eat.
Santa Baby – Eartha Kitt is a
favorite of mine. This is a wickedly sexy take on the holidays.
The Chipmunks Christmas Song
(Christmas Don’t Be Late) – I was nine years old! I can’t be held accountable
for my taste in music. Of course, that doesn’t explain why it still makes me
smile from ear to ear.
Good King Wenceslas – What can I
say? I love this song.
Have Yourself a Merry Little
Christmas – and pass the Kleenex. The title alone is enough to make me cry.
So what are your favorite (and
maybe unexpected) choices?

 

Enraptured: The Discovery

The Sugar Maple Chronicles

Book Seven

Barbara Bretton

 

 

 

Genre:  Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Free Spirit Press
Date of Publication:  October 15, 2019
ASIN:  B07Y2PLWXG
Number of pages:  255
Word Count: 66,000
Cover Artist: Barbara Bretton
Tagline:  Welcome to Sugar Maple – where nothing is quite the way it seems
Book Description:
Chloe Hobbs, knit shop owner extraordinaire and de facto mayor of the picture-postcard perfect New England town, has faced danger to her beloved home before but this time she might have met her match.
When tech billionaire Jack Whittaker crashes his small plane in the middle of the Holiday Street Fair, the town’s future is suddenly in jeopardy. Plunged into a whirlwind of magick and mystery that includes Fae warriors and flying babies, Jack discovers a secret cave where a reflecting pool offers tantalizing glimpses into both the past and the future.
With two lives hanging in the balance, Chloe is in a race against time to uncover the secrets hidden inside the cave before it’s too late.
Excerpt:

Are you a worrier?

Since the birth of my daughter last year, I have become a world-class, gold medal-winning worrier. I worry that Laria isn’t getting enough sleep and then, when she’s snuggled down for the night, I lurk in the doorway to her room and listen for the soft sound of her breathing.  I worry that she isn’t getting enough milk. I worry about the transition to solids. I worry about childproofing our cottage. I worry about potty training and her first day of school.

Mostly I worry about what she’s going to be when she grows up. All things considered, that’s pretty silly because everyone in Sugar Maple knows that Laria’s future had been determined long before she was born.

But, then again, so was mine.

I’m Chloe Hobbs, the half-sorceress/half-human owner of Sticks & Strings, the most popular yarn shop in New England. (And maybe the entire east coast . . . not that I’m proud of it, or anything.) I’m also the de factomayor of Sugar Maple, one of those postcard-perfect towns Vermont is famous for, a picturesque throwback to simpler times.

At least, that’s what we want you to think.

The truth is, there is a lot more to our small town than meets the eye. My BFF Janice, who owns the spa across the street, is a Harvard-educated witch married to a strapping selkie. Lynette, my other BFF, is a shapeshifter. She and her husband and kids keep our local theater up and running. A werewolf and his sons operate the hardware store.

A Norwegian troll named Lilith maintains both our library and our historical society. Three generations of Fae run the Sugar Maple Inn and restaurant. Don’t laugh, but a team of vampires own the funeral home.

And that’s just for starters.

We have been hiding here in plain sight since my sorceress ancestor Aerynn fled the horrors of Salem centuries ago to found a sanctuary for other magicks like her.

I’m not bragging when I say that for over three hundred years, we’ve done a pretty good job of flying below the radar. The fact that you didn’t know about us is proof of that. Thanks to a protective charm created by Aerynn, we have been able to escape discovery even while living and working among humans. I’ll admit, however, that it was a lot easier before the Internet and drones and smartphones became part of our daily lives.

And there are a few old-timers around town who would say I was the biggest threat of all. We were already a popular stop for tourists looking to experience a trip to nostalgic, old school New England, when the runaway success of Sticks & Strings added a steady stream of knitters to our village. Now I’m not saying knitters are nosier than your average visitor, but nothing much gets by them. A dedicated knitter can sniff out a bargain three towns away and will do anything to reel that treasure in.

But knitters go home at night, something you can’t always say about relatives.

 

 

About the Author:
Barbara Bretton is the award-winning, USA Today bestselling author of fifty books. Her titles have been published in twelve languages in over twenty countries by Harlequin, Berkley, Crown, Pocket, and Free Spirit Press. When Barbara isn’t writing, she can be found knitting, reading, and cooking in New Jersey with her husband and a house filled with pets.
Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2WW7s2h

 

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Book Tour: Annie’s Gift by Barbara Bretton #PNR #holidays

Barbara Bretton Deck the Halls InstaAnnie’s Gift
Rocky Hill Holiday Romance
Book Five
Barbara Bretton

Genre:  Paranormal romance

Publisher: Free Spirit Press

Date of Publication:  2017

ISBN:1973271575
ASIN:  B077BF911C
Number of pages:  80
Word Count:  20,000

Cover Artist: Erin Dameron-Hill

Because love never dies… 

Everyone knows Christmas is a time for family but not for Harry Barnes. If he had his way, he would close his eyes and not open them again until January second when all the fuss was over. Once upon a time he had loved the season but that was a long time ago. His wife Annie and daughter Erin are gone and he hasn’t spoken to his only son, Sam, in years.

The Christmas candlesticks he’d lovingly carved for Annie and their children are buried in the attic under a thick layer of dust along with memories that could break a man’s heart . . . if he still had one left to break.

After years of living on military bases all around the world, Sam Barnes has moved his family back home for keeps but they might as well still be in Japan or England or Timbuktu for all the difference it makes. His father’s heart is still closed to the idea of family and there is nothing Sam can do to change it. Not even if the only thing his twelve-year-old daughter Riley wants for Christmas is the grandfather she has never met.

But then on a snowy Christmas Eve in Rocky Hill, Harry and Sam are visited by a determined mother and daughter who have just a few earth hours to bring their family together or lose them forever.

Amazon

Annie's Gift Deck the Halls with Books

When it comes to the holidays, I am a traditionalist. Whether it’s the movies we watch, the music we listen to, or the food we eat, I look forward to revisiting those old (and beloved) favorites every single year.

One of our most cherished traditions is our Christmas Eve Brownie Extravaganza. Deep. Dark. Still warm from the oven. Crowned with a ginormous scoop of vanilla ice cream topped with a holiday-red maraschino cherry.

Why limit this delicious guilty pleasure to just Christmas Eve? These brownies would be delicious any day of the year!

Ingredients

8 ounces unsweetened chocolate, melted

1-1/2 cups butter (6 ounces), melted

6 eggs

3 cups sugar

1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour

3 tablespoons vanilla

1 cup nuts, chopped (optional)

Beat eggs, adding sugar and vanilla. Add the melted chocolate and butter. Blend until light and airy. Add flour, then nuts (if using.)

Bake in a pre-heated 350-degree oven in two 8-inch pans for 25-30 minutes. Do not overcook. They should be moist in the center. The timing is personal. Keep checking and take it out of the oven when it’s reached the degree of doneness that warms your heart.

Top with ice cream and enjoy.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Excerpt:

He heard a sound like autumn leaves crackling underfoot, and then felt a soft rush of cinnamon-scented air as a small form appeared then disappeared right in front of his eyes.

He watched, paralyzed with fear and hope, as she took form one more time, looking less like a hologram and more like a flesh and blood woman. The woman he had loved since he was sixteen years old.

“Annie!” Her name tore from his throat and spilled into the space between them. This was his Annie, before sorrow and sickness had taken their toll.

Bubbles of laughter danced in the air around her. “I did it! How about that, Harry? I did it!”

He reached for her hand but it was like grasping cotton candy. His brain was a bowl of overcooked oatmeal. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

The room began to spin. He could feel himself starting to go under and he put his head between his knees.

“Low blood sugar,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t miss that at all.”

“It’s not low blood sugar,” he managed, gulping in some air. “I’m talking to a ghost.”

“If you want to put it that way, I guess you are.”

What other way was there to put it? He had buried his beloved wife six months ago and now here she was in their living room acting like nothing had happened.

He took another huge gulp of air then lifted his head.

“I’m still here,” she said, her tone softening. “You can trust your senses.”

“Why?” he asked, his disbelief beginning to show cracks. “How?”

She spread her arms wide. “Look at this place! You’d never know it was Christmas Eve.”

“It doesn’t feel like Christmas Eve.”

“It would if you put some effort into it. Put up a tree. String some lights.” She aimed a sharp look in his direction. “Place the candles in the window where they belong.”

“No.”

Her brows darted into a scowl. “Did you forget your promise?”

“That promise was made a long time ago. Things change.”

“Family doesn’t.”

“I don’t have a family anymore. When I lost you, I lost everything.”

She reached out and for a second he imagined he felt the touch of her hand. But that was crazy, wasn’t it? She was no more real than Santa Claus or Easter Bunny.

“I’m here because I love you,” she said. “And because you need me tonight.”

Tears threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to believe.

“I need you every night, Annie. That’s never changed.”

“But tonight is the night you asked for me.”

One moment he was standing there next to the refrigerator with a carton of brown eggs in his hand.

The next moment the eggs were on the floor in a yellow and white mess and his Annie was in his arms.

He had lived long enough to know that second chances didn’t happen often in life.

This time he wasn’t going to let her go.

About the Author:

Barbara Bretton is the award-winning, USA Today bestselling author of fifty books. Her titles have been published in twelve languages in over twenty countries by Harlequin, Berkley, Crown, Pocket, and Free Spirit Press. When Barbara isn’t writing, she can be found knitting, reading, and cooking in New Jersey with her husband and a house filled with pets.

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