New at Changeling Press: The Difference Between by Stephanie Burk #orcs #fantasyromance #gay @FlashyCat

Rotic, a human boy, was a slave when High Orc Chieftain Vizri first rescued him. Now, as Vizri’s adopted son, Rotic has become a renowned warrior and leader of the Orc Army. Rotic is confused when he’s gifted with a male consort, but he knows he has earned his place in life, and he has full confidence nothing will ever take his power and position away from him.

Ogun is used and broken when he’s brought to the castle of the High Orc Chieftain as tribute — actually a sly insult — by the underhanded Dark Elves. When Ogun is named Consort and meets Rotic, his new partner, he finds himself lost in a whole new way of life before the sun has set. He has a new position and a growing relationship with Rotic. Nothing could ever ruin this for Ogun.

But with treacherous humans threatening the Orc Nation, magical and cultural landmines to traverse, and a new wife added to the mix, Ogun and Rotic’s lives are changing faster than they can blink. Ogun and Rotic have to learn to adjust and overcome before the differences between them become an insurmountable mountain that will destroy them both.

Publisher’s Note: The Difference Between was published previously by another house and has been extensively edited for re-release.

Save 15% at Changeling Press

Preorder at retailers for November 29th

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Stephanie Burke

The tent flap ripped open with surprising easy. But then, Vizri didn’t expect much from human beings on the whole. The dim light in the tent did nothing to hamper his vision, as Orc eyes were designed to be useful in the dark tunnels that spawned their ancestors as well as the bright sunlight in which the multitudes of humans dwelt.

The first impression? Humanity smelled. Even before he entered the tent the smell of sour milk and salt filled his nostrils, making him snort as he curled his nose in disgust. The place also smelled of human sex and excrement. It was nearly enough to make his eyes water.

It was a good thing his eyes adjusted so quickly, because almost as soon as he stepped foot inside the hide monstrosity the humans decided to call a domicile, he had to duck to the right as a pale blur flew at him from out of nowhere. He shifted his weight and reached behind him, gripping the shaft of his great-ax, but something, some odd instinct, made him stay his hand.

Unlike the confusing humans, Orcs always followed their instincts. He might be reluctant to swing but he was no fool. And an Orc who was always prepared for the worst was an Orc that lived to languish in the care of his wives. So he gripped the handle of the great weapon strapped to his back and he tracked the blur with his eyes.

It was a human, a small one. At least it looked — he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring, and nodded. Indeed, it was human, small… wounded, fearful, and furious at the same time. Interesting.

He was deciding if he should just put it out of its misery when it turned and snarled at him. He could not stop his brow-hair from rising as he stared at the pitiful creature. Although it never showed in his expression, the actions of this small wretch… delighted him. This small thing behaved in a most appropriate alpha-type manner. It was refreshing and confusing to see proper behavior out of a human, especially one so small and wounded.

It looked underfed and wild as it glared at him, its chest heaving as its eyes tracked rapidly around the room, looking for an escape route while keeping him firmly in view. He tilted his head to the side and relaxed his stance as the small human snarled again.

There was a table between him and the human, so he decided he had time to test a theory that had been raging along the lower courts of his chiefdom for years. Were humans truly intelligent beings, capable of instinctual thought and the ability to act properly on those impulses, or were they just the Elder Gods’ evolutionary joke?

He moved forward and unclasped a human weapon, a well made great sword, from his side. He had meant to bring it as a present to one of his wives who loved cute little trinkets like this one, but now it would do well to serve another purpose.

If the small human could pass his test, he would not put it out of its misery. If it actually reacted in the correct manner, then he might take it home as a pet and spare its life. One of his thirty-seven wives might like an intelligent toy to fetch and carry, if they could get past the smell.

He lay the sword on the table and stepped back to gage the creature’s reaction. When it just stood there, glaring at him, eyes still darting around the tent, he reached into another pouch at his side and withdrew a small jeweled dagger. He had taken it from the treasury the human in charge of this ramshackle village had acquired and unlike the worthless gold and other somewhat more useful jewels, he thought it could be bent and pounded into something like a bit of jewelry for one of his wives or for his newest consort. He moved forward and laid it on the table as well.

Still the small creature didn’t move, but its eyes were darting back and forth between him and the weapons, its scowl growing deeper.

Finally, Vizri unwound a heavy steel bolo from around his waist, a very important weapon in Orcish warfare, dropping that beside the dagger before he again stepped back. There. He had given the creature three options. He would wait and see if it was intelligent enough to realize he had given it a choice.

As he waited, he examined the pitiful thing, noting the many and varied differences between humans and Orc. It had none of the advantages that nature had blessed the Orc with for survival, which led many species to speculate that humans really were nature’s big joke.

It had thin skin, through which he could see its red blood pumping through its veins. Its ears were rounded and placed on the side of its head, not sharply arched and placed on top so that they could swerve and easily pick up the sounds of enemies approaching or sneaking around from behind. It had no claws for defense, no horns for intimidation, and worse of all, it had no protruding lower tusks. How could it properly mate if it could not gore its female into ecstasy?

Humans were a strange breed that had somehow managed to grab a foothold in the Orc territory.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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.

New from Changeling Press: Dragon’s Egg by Lena Austin #gay #fantasyromance @Lena_Austin

Puff the Magic Dragon lived by the sea

Ever wondered what happens when Jackie grows up?

Jack Draper’s an orphan, with what he’s always thought of as a very active imagination — until he discovers the dragon from his childhood memories is real. Worse, he’s the son of the usurper king of Honalee and the Red Sorceress — which means Jack is a wizard himself! Now Jack has to go to wizard school…

Could life get more confusing than being a modern day gay man who suddenly becomes a wizard/dragonrider — and heir to the throne his father didn’t earn? In a word — Yes.

Publisher’s Note: Dragon’s Egg (Box Set) contains the previously published novellas Dragon’s Egg, Dragon’s Stone, and Dragon’s Quest.

Get the Paperback at Amazon

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Lena Austin
Excerpt from 
Dragon’s Egg

Jack stood. He wanted Puff as much as the dragon wanted him, insanely enough. He cast about for a way to put Puff at ease. “The tea is undoubtedly ready. Are you warm enough?”

Puff raised a sardonic eyebrow, and his voice was heavy with irony. “Yes, I believe I am, if you refer to my body temperature.” He squared his shoulders. “Yes, tea would be lovely.”

Jack reached for the steaming kettle, but Puff batted his hand away. “You can’t take the heat. Allow me.”

Jack appreciated the double entendres flying back and forth between them. “I can so take the heat, but I’ll allow you the privilege of being in charge, at least this time.”

His drawled words had the desired effect. Puff shot him an unfocused look, and turned back to lift the hot kettle with his bare hands. He poured the tea into the cups with studious care. “So you say.”

Jack picked up his cup and matched the dragon’s ironic smile. “Indeed I do.” He limped with deliberate steps to the dragon’s stone pedestal and sat on the edge. He knew he now sat on Puff’s bed wearing nothing but a pair of pants. He hoped the silent invitation was clear.

Puff gave Jack an opaque look. The only sound was the faint rush of the sea, the tinkle of the waterfall in the basin, and the hum between them that was purely mental. Puff’s eyes narrowed. “Stop teasing, Jackie. It’s not nice.”

Knowing Puff could not possibly see facial expressions over the dimly lit distance between them, Jack snorted. “You seem to think I am. I’m not. Are you going to take me up on the invitation, or will you force me to be crude and blunt?”

One elegant silver and black eyebrow lifted toward Puff’s hairline. “Yes. I want you to be crude and blunt. Tell me what you want, Jackie.”

Jack sighed, making it deliberately loud. “Very well. One, could you manage to call me Jack? I’ve not been called Jackie since I left.”

Puff sipped his tea. “I think I can manage that. Now that you’re a fully grown man, can you manage my real name of Aneurin?”

Jack choked back laughter. “I can indeed, Aneurin. It fits you better, to call you the Welsh name for gold. Your golden eyes haunted my dreams for many a night.”

The dragon put the cup down with deliberate care. “You’ve been dreaming of me?”

Jack took a sip of his tea, slurping deliberately. “Yes. Dreams of you and I making love, right here on this great bloody bed of yours.”

Puff-Aneurin stared at the floor. “And you don’t mind this dream?”

“At first, I minded. Only in that I didn’t think it was right to be making love with a character from a children’s song.”

Puff chuckled. “Should have never gone to the pub and had a few pints. Told some idiot songster while I was in my cups, but retained enough sense to make it a tale.” He shrugged. “Didn’t expect the song to cross the pond.”

“Puff, er, Aneurin… sorry. That song was sung in the 1960’s before I was born.” It had always bugged him that the song was older than he by nearly a decade.

“Oh. That. I went back in time to find some good ale, not that watered down piss they sell these days. I’ve heard in America they sell it cold, much to my horror.” Aneurin grinned at his dig on Jack’s adopted home.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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?

Vampire Kisses Vol 2 by NYT Bestseller Angela Knight #vampires #darkfantasy #BDSM @AngelaKnight @changelingpress

Vampire agents, SEALs, captives, and bodyguards fight their way into their women’s hearts.

Hope’s Kiss: When a police detective discovers a chamber of horrors in the basement of an old house, she’s horrified to find her ex-lover, Mark Wilder, locked in one of the cells. Naked and covered in bites and blood, he’s been changed into a vampire. And he’s insane with bloodlust. Unless Hope can reawaken Mark’s humanity, he’s doomed to remain the slave of a vicious predator. What’s worse, his vampire sire intends Hope to become Mark’s first victim.

Kissing the Hunter: Navy SEAL Logan McLean is on a quest for revenge against the monsters who murdered his wife. Virginia Hart is a sexy vampire searching for her lost soulmate, only to find him in a man determined to kill her. She must convince him all vampires aren’t psychotic murderers — if he doesn’t get her first.

A Candidate for the Kiss: on the trail of a hot story, reporter Dana Ivory stumbles across a truly explosive scoop — a handsome secret agent who happens to be a vampire. She wants her story, but Gabriel Archer has something much sexier in mind. He’s been looking for someone like Dana for a very long time: a candidate for the kiss.

Blood and Kisses: A murderous vampire assassin is hot on the trail of Beryl St. Cloud. Her only hope lies with yet another bloodsucker, James Decker. Broke and desperate, she offers herself as payment for the mercenary’s protection. But will the price end up being her very soul?

Get the Paperback at Amazon

Get the ebook at Changeling Press on November 5th

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight
Excerpt from Hope’s Kiss

He was naked, covered in blood, and lying on the floor of a steel cage.

She’d still know Mark Wilder anywhere.

Detective Hope Barton scanned the room from the bottom step, eyes flicking from the cage to the bloody wooden table beside it, to the shackles that hung from blood splattered cement walls.

The big, dimly lit basement reeked of murder: body fluids, rotting gore, and helpless suffering. Her stomach heaved, but Hope had been a violent crimes detective for two years, and she’d stood over her share of slaughter. Swallowing hard, she forced her dinner back where it belonged and did her job.

“Mark.” Hope strode toward the cage, ignoring the sticky puddles drying on the cement underfoot. She was too busy scanning the room for the key to his cell. There was no sign of one, damn it. “What the hell happened to you?” When he didn’t move, she raised her voice in a cop’s bark. “Mark!”

He stirred and lifted his head from the cage’s dirty floor. One dazed green eye met hers under a shock of matted blond hair. Blood and filth streaked his face, his lips were cut and bruised, and his left eye was swollen shut.

Somebody had beaten the crap out of him. And judging from his bloody knuckles, he’d fought back hard. Which was no surprise. Mark never took anything lying down.

Her gut twisted. How was she going to get him out of here? She grabbed the thick iron bars in both hands. “Mark… Mark, it’s Hope.”

For a suspended instant, he stared at her without any recognition at all.

“Arrrraaah!” With a tortured animal howl, he leaped at her in an impossible eight-foot bound. Pure reflex had her jolting back, barely dodging his hand as it shot through the bars.

How did he do that? Nobody could jump like that!

Mark’s lips peeled off snapping teeth, his powerful body straining to reach her with fingers curled into claws. His bare, bloody feet thudded on the bars as he kicked them savagely, trying to bend the steel. His one good eye glittered in frenzy.

He has fangs. She froze, staring at his sharply pointed canine teeth. Sweet God, Mark has fangs!

He sure as hell hadn’t had them in high school. She’d put her tongue in his mouth often enough to know.

As he bellowed and clawed, Hope damn near drew down on him. She managed to drag her hand away from the grip of her shoulder-holstered 9mm Glock, but it took an effort. I’m not going to shoot Mark Wilder. God, she ached to call for backup, but she no longer trusted anyone in the department.

Mark finally stopped howling. Clinging to the bars, he stared at her, his good eye feral and desperate, like a wolf with one leg in a bear trap.

“Mark, damn it, it’s me!” She all but screamed it, her voice raw with frustration and fear.

Recognition flickered in his gaze. “Hope?” His voice sounded broken, raspy, as if he’d been screaming. Screaming for a very long time.

Pity raked at her heart, along with a certain tense relief. At least he’d recognized her. “Yeah, it’s me.” She gave him a twisted smile. “Guess you were right. There is a vampire in Reede County.”

“Told you.” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as if fighting some powerful urge. “I warned you… what he was.”

Yeah, but she’d thought he’d lost his mind. The story he’d told her last week had certainly sounded insane.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades, Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work, Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police department.

Find her Online: Website | Facebook

Stunner/Havoc by Marteeka Karland is now in Paperback! #mcromance #romanticsuspense @marteekakarland

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my woman safe — even if it means giving her up. Forever.

Stunner (Bones MC 9)
Suzie — I’m the youngest grad student at MIT, and that doesn’t exactly make me popular. I miss Stunner. He’s seen me at my worst — I want him to see me at my best.

Stunner — I’ve got more than a few skeletons in my closet. Suzie deserves a man who’s not a stone-cold killer, but I have my uses. Now my past has caught up to me. I won’t let any of it touch Suzie — even if it means giving her up. Forever.

Havoc (Salvation’s Bane MC 4)
Spring — I’m dancing at Salvation’s Angels, a strip club owned by the notorious Salvation’s Bane MC, to earn enough to pay my custody attorney. I have enough on my plate without having to deal with Havoc, the sexy-as-sin vice president of Salvation’s Bane. I’m not sure the man’s got my best interests in mind.

Havoc — When I came across Spring swishing her little ass on stage at our strip club, I know I don’t want other men seeing what she’s got to offer. I’m addicted to her and the feisty son she’s raising alone. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe — and make them both mine.

WARNING: Explicit violence, which could be triggers for some readers, sensual scenes, including spanking and voyeurism. As always, you can expect a HEA with no cheating.

Available at Amazon

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland
Excerpt from Stunner (Bones MC 9)

“FIGHT!”

Stunner bared his teeth at Pig. The fucking bastard had opened his fucking mouth for the last fucking time. The alarm had been sounded the second Pig had uttered the words “girl’s a fuckin’ pussy,” in reference to Suzie and how she avoided the Boneyard when she was home.

The call to arms went out over the bar from the recently patched member, Kickstand. Despite being friends with Pig, Kickstand had turned out to be a loyal member of Bones and a good guy if a little shy in the brains department. Like how he continued to be friends with this motherfucker.

Good thing the warning had gone out, because Stunner had had all he was taking from the stupid pissant. Stunner was out of his chair and had the former prospect for Bones by the throat. By the time everyone realized where the fight was, Stunner had slammed Pig against the wall three times, not taking care with his head. If he beat the fucker to death, he’d get rid of the body where no one would ever find it.

“Back the fuck off, Stunner!” Bohannon, the club’s enforcer, tried to pry Stunner’s fingers from around Pig’s throat. Stunner didn’t take his eyes from Pig’s. If he killed the man, he was going to look into his eyes while he did it. He stopped beating Pig’s head against the wall, but only because it was wood and gave just enough to prevent him from splitting the other man’s skull. So he resorted to squeezing the life out of him. Less mess that way. Not like anyone would miss the fucker. The club had been trying to get rid of him for a couple of years now. This seemed like as good a time as any.

“I know we want rid of him, Stunner, but not like this! We don’t kill without a good reason.” Bohannon was still freeing Pig from Stunner. “Let him go!”

Had he spoken out loud? Just as well. If they knew his intention, they could get anyone out of the bar who wasn’t Bones, and he could finish this business where he should have started it. In private.

“He’s gonna kill the fucker this time.” That was Kickstand. Kid sounded distressed. Like Stunner gave a good Goddamn. If the kid was stupid enough to think Pig was worth saving, he deserved the heartache. “I tried to tell him to back off, Cain. Told him he didn’t want to poke Stunner, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Stunner!”

Stunner turned to look at the Bones president. Unable to stop himself, he growled at the other man. No way he was taking away his kill. Not this time. Cain raised an eyebrow and glanced at someone beside him.

“Don’t look at me. He might be my sister’s kid, but I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout killin’ the stupid cunt my own damned self.”

“Well, he can’t do it here, Arkham,” Cain said, sounding annoyed. “Not with half the bar seein’ the start of the fuckin’ fight.”

Arkham sighed. “Fine. But this happens again, you’re on your own.”

All that registered in the back of Stunner’s mind, but his real focus was on watching Pig slowly lose consciousness. It wouldn’t be long after that until he died. Satisfaction filled Stunner, and he took a deep breath, relishing the thought he’d was about to choke the life out of the fucker.

Pig’s face was now a satisfying shade of purple, and Stunner thought he might just finish the job before Cain could get enough people together to pull him off. Next thing he knew, several hands tugged at him and arms wrapped around him, pulling him off his prey. One fucker had his arm around Stunner’s neck, but he wasn’t concerned about someone choking him. He was pissed he might miss the moment Pig died. No way that was happening.

“No!” Stunner was desperate to hang on to Pig. They’d have to pry his fingers off the fucker’s neck. After they cut off his arm, Goddammit. There was no way he was letting go voluntarily.

“What the fuck did Pig say to set Stunner off like this?” Cain sounded equal parts pissed and exasperated. There might have been a touch of worry in there for some fucking reason.

“Get Stunner off him and the two of you go across the room,” Kickstand said. “Then I’ll think about tellin’ ya.”

“Stunner, let that fucker go, NOW!” Cain’s voice was hard with authority. Normally, Stunner would have done what the president told him immediately when he used that voice. Hell, he’d only ever heard it a couple of times since he’d been with Bones, and it had made him cringe even when it wasn’t directed at him. Now, though, well. It was going to take more than a true hardass to keep him from making this kill. Not even Cain was going to stop this.

Finally, someone managed to pry his fingers from Pig’s throat. Stunner let out a war bellow that promised retaliation. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, knew he needed to take a step back and get himself under control, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t think beyond the rage and longing, and emptiness, and loneliness that filled him. In his heart, he knew that, if he killed Pig now it would somehow make him worthy. Of her. Becoming worthy in her eyes was worth any amount of pain later. And Lord knew Cain would dish out the pain if Stunner openly disobeyed him.

“Back the fuck off, Stunner,” Cain said again, getting between him and Pig. Stunner tried to look around the other man, to get a bead on Pig so he could see the best way back to him to finish the job. “Look at me! Eyes on me!”

Reluctantly, Stunner shook his head, knowing Cain wasn’t going to let him kill Pig. Not tonight. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leashing the madness inside him.

“Eyes on me,” Cain said again. He sounded calmer this time. Not the hardass Stunner knew him to be. “You back with me?”

Stunner paused for several seconds. Was he? Yeah. He had it under control.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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.

New at Changeling Press: The Witch and the Dreamwalker by Victoria Rogers #urbanfantasy #paranormalromance @MimiMerlot

It’s 1982, and rising star Vivian McKinley is determined to climb the corporate ladder of a growing paranormal security firm. With the help of Xavier Prince, President and CEO of Prince Charms, Vivian uncovers a plot to take over the business. The pair navigate office politics and machinations to prove a psychic vampire’s treachery.

Get it at Changeling Press and save 15%!

Preorder at online booksellers for November 5th

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Victoria Rogers

“Here, you look like you need one of these.” Jenny thrust a shot glass into Vivian’s hand.

Vivian shook her head, “No. Thank you. This is work.” She passed the glass back to Jenny.

Jenny made a face. “Vivian, dear, this is a party. Work ended the moment you stepped foot into this ballroom.”

“Not true. This is work. Everyone here is networking. Besides, I was just talking business with Xavier.”

Jenny’s brows shot upward. “First name basis, are we? Not Mr. Prince? At any rate,” she said, not giving Vivian the chance to answer the question, “look around. People are here to attend a party. The bar is already on its fourth bottle of whiskey.”

Vivian ignored her. “I’ve been promoted, Jenny. I’m now head of R and D!”

“What? Congratulations! That’s so exciting! Wait! That means you’re my boss? Holy shit, Vivian! I’ve never had a woman boss before. You get it, Viv. Make these men quake in their shoes. You’ve got to do a tequila shot with me, then.”

“Tequila? You want me to be sick? No, thank you. I’m fine. I should talk to John. Have you seen him?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s at the bar talking to Drew from sales.”

“Thank you,” Vivian replied.

“I will get you to do a shot before the night is out.”

“No. You won’t,” Vivian called over her shoulder.

* * *

John was exactly where Jenny said he was — at the bar enjoying a glass of cognac with Drew from sales.

“Vivian!” John bellowed, waving her over. “Saw you talking to Mr. Prince. Has he taken my advice?”

Vivian grinned. “If your advice was to have me take up the mantle, then yes. Yes! By the gods, John. I don’t know what to say. I haven’t had time to process this yet.”

John beamed and took her hand and patted it lightly. “I’m proud of you, Vivian. You’re going to go far. You’d be wasted in that shop, peddling basic charms.”

“I wouldn’t call my grandmother’s charms basic. She taught me all I know. She’d have a few choice words to say to you if she heard that!”

“I stand corrected.” He chuckled, belly bouncing with each percussive breath. “Drew, have you met Vivian? She’s now the head of R and D.”

The salesman laughed at first, but when John didn’t laugh in response he quickly sobered. “What? Where are you going, John? Is Simeon finally retiring?”

John shook his head. “No. I’m retiring, Drew. It’s time I spent more time with the grandkids.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve got a few years yet.”

“No, no. It’s time to go home. I can’t compete with these kids anymore. Vivian’s ward is one hell of a piece of work. I would never have been able to dream that up.”

“The psychic vamp ward? The one I’ve got people lining up to order? That was you?” he asked while looking at her, mouth agape.

John snorted. “Of course, it was her, she gave the presentation, didn’t she?”

“I thought… I thought she gave the presentation to…”

Vivian arched a brow. “To what, exactly?”

“You know, to, to sell –”

“She’s goading you, Drew. And I’d stop with that thought right now. Vivian here knows her stuff, and she’s going to put Prince Charms on the global map.”

Vivian could hear the clack of Drew’s teeth as he snapped his mouth shut.

“I think a drink is in order, don’t you?” John turned toward the bartender. “Three bourbon, neat.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s –”

“Nonsense. This is a party, and if you’re going to hang with the old boys you have to play by their rules. Here, have a cigar.”

Vivian stared at the offered stogie.

“Might as well join us in smoking them. You’re going to be stuck in smoky rooms and end up smoking them anyway. It’s better firsthand.”

Vivian wasn’t sure she followed John’s logic on that one, but she reached out for the cigar anyway.

“That’s my girl. Now, here, you cut them like this.” He snipped the end of the cigar with a gold-plated cutter he pulled from his pocket. “And let me get that for you,” he said, flicking open his matching lighter.

She didn’t cough. She knew enough from her father that you didn’t actually inhale a cigar, unlike a cigarette.

John grinned as she exhaled like a professional. “Now.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Time for bourbon.” He passed both her and Drew a glass and then held his aloft. “To Vivian, who’s going to shake the paranormal world so hard it won’t know what happened.”

Vivian expected everyone to sip their drink, but no, down their gullets the amber liquid went. She tried not to gag at the flavor. A whiskey lover she was not.

“It’ll grow on you,” John said with a thump on her back as if reading her mind. “Bartender! Another round.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Victoria Rogers is an award-winning podcaster, game designer, and storyteller known for their immersive worlds and strong female characters.

Witches, warlocks, gods, and spirits fill their dreams and stories. Consent and healthy communication are two major aspects of their work – after all, you can’t have what you want unless you ask for it.

Victoria can be found in the garden and in the kitchen making fruit wines, brewing beers, and infusing spirits. When not feeding friends, they attend tabletop gaming conventions and sit on storytelling and world-building panels, teach about online marketing, and produce live events.

New at Changeling Press: Planted by the Alien Vampire Scientist by Crymsyn Hart #SciFiRomance #AlienEncounters @crymsynhart

When Abigail Pike goes hiking with her sister, she never expected she’d walk right into a seven-foot-tall green alien.

Jaril came to Earth to study its plants. He didn’t intend to rescue a human when she falls and hits her head on a rock after she runs into him. To save her, Jaril must implant his technology in her.

Overcoming her fear, Abigail returns to the cave where she first met the alien. This time he’s the one who’s injured. The longer she’s around Jaril, the more she’s drawn to him, but Jaril needs to return to his ship to be healed properly.

Abigail doesn’t want to give up her life on Earth, but she might not have a choice if she wants to be with Jaril. Whoever said understanding plants was easier than humans has never met a green alien vampire.

Save 15% at Changeling Press

Or preorder at online booksellers for November 5th

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Crymsyn Hart

“Do you think this is a good idea?”

“We’ve had this discussion. I’ll be fine. The lunar caves will keep you concealed. The humans won’t be able to detect you hidden so deep beneath the surface.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Talix leaned against the ship’s gray metallic wall and crossed her arms over her chest. Her solid form dissolved until Jaril could see the console behind her.

Jaril rolled his eyes while he gathered more instruments to take to the planet with him. He could always come back up for more. It offered more risk of exposure, though. The idea of all the various specimens he would encounter made him giddy. He scanned the instruments once more and decided he had enough devices to set up his habitat and lab on the planet. “I’ll be deep enough in the cave the humans won’t find me. The humans are primitive. I’ll be fine.”

“They’re not as primitive as you think. Didn’t you go over the manifests brought back by the other ships? The humans have new technologies. They are aware of us. They’re planning on going to Mars. You’re excited to delve into the vegetation of this puny world. I told you there are better –”

“Talix. Enough.” He threw up his hands and closed the case. Jaril hefted it from the workstation and went into the docking bay where the scout ships were moored. He pressed his hand against the side of one. The metal melted away to reveal a door. He ducked inside and set the case next to the others. Jaril would be cramped with everything he was taking, but he preferred it to scattering his atoms. “Do you have the coordinates programmed into the navigation computer?”

“Yes, they’re entered because we both know you’re a horrible navigator. I’ll be doing most of the flying.” Talix’s image flashed inside the small ship. The instrument panel lit up and the pilot’s chair glided backward for Jaril to sit.

“Yeah, I know I’m better with plants than living creatures.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. This is still an isolated planet. We really don’t…”

He glanced at the shaky image of his ship’s computer. The artificial intelligence had been his constant companion as he went from one planet to another gathering specimens. He had all the different plant species cataloged on his home planet of Tilleron. Each time others of his race returned from their travels, they brought back data about the worlds they had visited or scanned. The last three ships which had returned from Earth had given him the idea to explore this particular planet for himself. Talix had tried to tell him to stay on Tilleron. He hadn’t want to hear it. The idea of Earth was stuck in his mind. At the moment, they hovered near Mars.

“We’re almost to their moon. We have the coordinates for the lunar cave where you will stay while I’m on Earth. You’ve programmed the route to the cavern in the planet where I’m going to park the scout ship. I don’t intend to be bothered by humans. If I need to go out among them, I have garments to blend in along with our cloaking tech to keep me invisible if needed.”

“Let’s hope you do. How are you going to survive down there without any Plasma Units?”

“I’ll find one among the humans as the others did. I have enough bottled substance to last me a while. If you’re done, we’re in range. I’ll be fine.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Crymsyn Hart is a National Bestselling author of over eighty paranormal romance and horror novels. Her experiences as a psychic and ghostly encounters have given her a lot of material to use in her books. Vampires, grim reapers, shifters, and other paranormal creatures tend to end up in her books no matter how hard she tries to keep them away.

She currently resides in Charlotte, NC with her hubby and her three dogs. If she’s not writing, she’s curled up with the dogs watching a good horror movie or off with friends.

To find out more about Crymsyn, check out her website on: www.crymsynhart.com

Now in Paperback: Bureau of Paranormal Affairs by Dulce Dennison #shifters #LGBTQ #romanticsuspense @AuthorDulce

There are rogue shifters on the loose in New York City, and these agents of the Bureau of Paranormal Affairs must bring their quarry to justice before the body count rises.

Grizzly Affair: It isn’t the best time for bear shifter Agent Roarke Hilliard to have his heat cycle. When his partner, Agent Spencer Malloy, places himself in Roarke’s path, the bear is worried he might break the human. Wolf shifter Grigore Gabor knows he’s found his mates. But there’s a killer on the loose…

A Shifter Concern: There’s a killer on the loose in New York City, and it’s up to agents Akoni Kekoa and Naoko Gima to solve the case. When they find their mate living out of a box in an alley, they can’t turn their backs on him. Slater is wary, but with some luck they’ll win their human mate’s heart and stop a rogue shifter before he kills again. They never dream Slater will lead the killer right to their door.

Their Grizzly Hero: Agent Holt Rainmaker thought he’d never find his mate, but when he’s captured he finds Bastian, the quiet shifter he knows belongs to him. Nothing could surprise him more than the blast of need that fills him when a pissed-off grizzly comes to their rescue. Little did Agent Decker Stauder realize when he tracked down The Collector he would end up finding not one mate but two. Not only is he claiming them — he’s going to bury the man who dared to cage his mates.

Get the paperback at Amazon

Save 15% on the ebook at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Dulce Dennison
Excerpt from Grizzly Affair


Special Agent Roarke Hilliard, Bureau of Paranormal Affairs, scented the air as he scanned the crime scene for clues. Darkness filled him, narrowing his world to this one moment. Blood soaked through his pants and coated his hands as he knelt beside the too still, mangled body. The copper tang of the teen’s blood teased his nostrils. His nose flared as he searched for other scents. Gunpowder residue and the stale smell of sweat hung heavy in the air.

A gun was clutched in the young man’s hand, his fingers gripping it even in death, and yet the weapon hadn’t been able to save him. Slashed across his sternum, the killer’s claws had dug deep, all the way to the bone. His clothes were torn in other areas. His belt had been partially torn from him. The clues were adding up to a terrifying, grisly picture.

This wasn’t the first victim, and if Roarke couldn’t catch the bastard responsible, it wouldn’t be the last. Up to this point, the killer had targeted male prostitutes. But this one was different. There were no indications of drug use, no condoms in the victim’s wallet. Was the killer branching out? Or were his tastes changing?

“This is definitely our guy,” Agent Spencer Malloy said as he surveyed the scene. “If we don’t catch him soon, we’ll be on every channel in the country. You know how much the Bureau hates bad publicity.”

Roarke stood. “There has to be a pattern. The first known victim was in Chicago. The second was in South Bend, Indiana. But now, victim number five is in Atlanta. Where is he going?”

“I still say they aren’t planned. I think our guy is picking up young men, then he gets frustrated when they won’t give him what he wants and he kills them.”

“They’re prostitutes living on the streets. There isn’t much they won’t do for the right amount,” Roarke reasoned.

“What’s that super sniffer of yours telling you?”

“I don’t smell semen. I don’t think he got very far before he killed this one. Maybe that was his motivation. Either he couldn’t get it up, or the victim resisted.” Although he could be wrong. Roarke wasn’t about to admit it to anyone, but during his heat cycle his nose was not the most reliable. It took every effort not to turn bear the closer the time got.

Spencer ran a hand through his short, blond hair. “I don’t like this. Rogue shifters are one thing, but one bent on murder?”

“The lab ran the sample three times,” Roarke reminded him. “No match was found in the system, but the DNA suggested a hybrid.”

“Which explains the instability,” Spencer muttered. “He obviously has impulse control issues. My gut says there are more murders. Unless some switch flipped in this guy’s head, there’s no way his first murder was last month. Not unless he was just turned, and what’s the likelihood of a just-turned hybrid?”

Roarke sighed. “I’m afraid I have to agree with you. We need to have records run a search on all unsolved shifter related homicides nationwide for the past five years, see if anything pops up that matches our guy’s MO.”

“I’ll call it in while you check out the rest of the scene. Maybe we missed something on the first walk through. Then you’re going to the hotel for a shower and a change of clothes.”

Roarke nodded and looked around again. He began a slow circuit of the space, sniffing for something he might have missed as his gaze touched on every square inch of the room. He knew from experience they wouldn’t find anything new. Fingerprints and DNA did them no good when the killer wasn’t in the system. According to the shifter laws of 2023, formed when shifters came out of hiding, all shapeshifters were required to have DNA and fingerprints on file with the government. Those who didn’t comply were termed “rogue” and would be put to death if they were found to have committed a heinous crime. If you weren’t registered, you didn’t have rights.

Spencer motioned to him from the doorway and Roarke stepped out into the sunshine. With the smell of death and decay surrounding him, he’d forgotten how beautiful it was outside. Spring was in the air, which spelled trouble for a bear on a never-ending job. The urge to mate would hit him hard and Roarke would be powerless to stop it. Last mating season, he’d damn near lost his job when he’d holed up in a motel room for three days with a willing male from a shifter run escort service… he might do well to keep their number handy.

“I passed on our thoughts about there being more murders and Rawlins said he would put a team on it.” Spencer began walking toward their SUV. “He asked why the hell we couldn’t have thought of that weeks ago. I told him we were too busy chasing a trail of mangled bodies. Pompous ass.”

Roarke grinned.

“I say we go get you cleaned up and grab a bite to eat. We missed lunch and I know that beast inside of you has to be starving.” Spencer held out his hand. “Keys.”

Roarke pulled them from his pocket and handed them over. He climbed into the passenger’s seat and patiently waited for Spencer to get in and start the vehicle.

“Speaking of my beast, there’s something you should know,” Roarke said as they pulled out of the parking lot. “My mating heat is going to hit soon. Since I don’t have a mate, my bear is going to seek the first willing male available. It’s going to possibly put me out of commission for a few days.”

“So we take a break.”

Roarke shook his head. “The mating fever is going to hit our killer grizzly too. It means more murders if he can’t find someone willing and able to handle the frenzy. Think double or even triple the body count we have now.”

“Fuck. We have to catch this guy!” Spencer slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dulce Dennison is a pen name for gay and LGBTQA+ themed love stories from best selling MC romance author Harley Wylde, AKA award-winning science fiction/paranormal romance author Jessica Coulter Smith. From cowboys to shapeshifters, Dulce/Harley/Jess believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.

Join Dulce’s Newsletter to find out about new releases, sales, and more!

New Release: Fury by Marteeka Karland #mcromance #romanticsuspense @marteekakarland

Noelle: I had dreams. Goals. That all changed when my baby brother suffered a traumatic brain injury. Now Jonas is my responsibility, and I can’t let him down, even if he’s his own worst enemy. I still have goals — I’m a fighter. As in MMA. Mixed Martial Arts. I want to be the best — fighting in the UFC. To be the best I need the best trainer. That’s Fury. The toughest man I’ve ever met. He doesn’t know it, but he’s also the man I’m in love with. But when Jonas gets in trouble, the only way I can save him is to go underground — illegal fights. I can’t tell Fury. He’d kill me himself. Or worse. Disown me. But I don’t have a choice. Jonas’ life is on the line. I have to fight. And I have to win. No matter the cost.

Fury: I spent seven years in the Army — the exact time it took to pay back my obligation for earning my medical degree free of half a million dollars in student loans. After that the Army and I both decided I might be better off putting my skills to use somewhere else. So now I put bikers back together for my club, Black Reign MC, and I’m damn good at what I do. I’m even better at taking them — and anyone else who gets in my way — apart.

Lately I’ve been passing those skills on the smartest, most street savvy kid I’ve ever trained. But Noelle is a kid — barely 21 — and I’m way too old for her. Now she’s gone and gotten herself in a boatload of trouble. If she tries to fight Shadow, he’s going to kill her. And if he throws the fight, our mission to close down these illegal fights will fall apart. Innocents will die. How do I choose one life over another? It was hard enough as a doctor in the field. Now it’s so much worse… because I did the stupidest thing I could have done — I went and fell in love.

Save 15% at Changeling Press

Preorder for October 29th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland

Fury

“You guys sure you got this? I feel like we’re so fuckin’ outnumbered it’s laughable.” I knew we more than had this, but something just didn’t sit right with me tonight.

“You got Shadow and the ringside participants,” Samson said calmly. “Hardcase and me got the crowd. We’ll focus on the big bettors. You and Shadow just concentrate on the shit happening at the ring and getting each other out alive. Get me?”

“Fine,” Fury muttered. “But for the record, something feels off.”

“Noted,” Samson replied. I hated not being in control. And this was a situation I definitely could not control. Illegal fights were a fucking nightmare to stay on top of. Unless you were the man running the fights, you had no idea what to expect. “Just concentrate on you and Shadow. Something goes sideways? Iron’s holding back. He can assist wherever we need him.”

“Not sure I want the men who fuck for a livin’ watchin’ my six,” I growled. “They get distracted by pussy, me ’n’ Shadow are the ones fucked.”

“You’re just jealous,” Hardcase said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but he’s kinda pretty,” Iron piped up. “When he ain’t bein’ all intimidatin’. If we can get the girls to not run screamin’ when he enters the room with ’em, he could fuck for a livin’ too.”

“If I gotta do this myself, boys, I’m killin’ every motherfuckin’ one a’ ya,” Samson said evenly. It wasn’t a threat, but a clear promise. “Shotgun says he’s sure at least three competitors here are dummies from the fight ring. They may look the part, but they don’t know jack about fightin’, and they damned sure don’t want to be here. We thought the bottom-ranked four looked promising, but it’s hard to say. Rumor is one of them’s a woman. We should give her a good look first.”

Normally the banter would help me relax, but today wasn’t the day for it. There was an itch between my shoulder blades. Like I had a target painted on my back. Something was epically off, but I had no idea what. When Samson mentioned one of the fighters being a woman, it nearly made my skin crawl. This particular fight ring stacked the odds in their favor by putting in what looked like rank competitors but who were really just people they’d kidnapped off the streets, or forced into fighting through blackmail or threat of bodily harm to a loved one. They were there to take a dive when told. Or to win by any means necessary. Anything to run up the betting.

“For the record, Fury,” Samson said, “Jax asked to go. Said he wanted to have your back.”

That surprised me. Jax, or Jackson, was my son. I’d been in his life, but we weren’t close. His mom and I split before he was born. She’d surprised me with his birth picture and a note that he was mine. I’d never questioned it, just showed up to hold my son for the first time. She’d died from breast cancer two years ago, and Jax had come to live with me. Our relationship was blooming, but we still had a way to go. The boy was just too much like me.

“You know some women enter these things on their own, right? They like the challenge, and some of ’em are pretty fuckin’ good,” Hardcase said, bringing the subject back to women. Of course.

“Yeah. And more than one of ’em have died or worse,” Samson replied. “Most of those were caught up in this ring, and El Diablo wants it stopped. Not in this city.” Everyone in Black Reign knew El Diablo absolutely would not tolerate a woman being abused. They also knew better than to defy his orders. As gentle as he could be with women, he was equally brutal to anyone who seriously crossed him. Man or woman.

The fights were getting ready to start. The ones going first obviously had the clear advantage. The fighters going later might not get to see how their opponent fought, but if they made it to the second round, they knew what to watch out for. The fighters going first would have some of that advantage, but they might also get fucked-up enough they needed the hour or so between their matches to recoup. This particular competition had ten competitors, all ranked by their past performances. Shadow was our fighter for this tournament. Of the participants, he kept himself high on the list but not so over the top that he had every fighter gunning for him. He was ranked number two. The number one and two fighters got a bye in their first round. Which meant they got to watch four matches before Shadow had to fight. Four fights to get the feel of the surroundings at ringside.

As I glanced up at the board, I saw they had lined up the fights. All the names were on the board and their rankings beside them. One name stood out and that feeling of unease grew even worse.

Brawler.

Now, it could be a coincidence. Because, likely there were no female competitors, other than the one Samson mentioned. Though, this one was ranked tenth among the ten fighters. No. Couldn’t be. Then again, if anyone could manage to get into this kind of trouble, it would be that fucking little bitch, Noelle.

No. I wouldn’t think about that. She wanted to make it to UFC, and she knew I could get her there. There was no way she’d risk me kicking her to the curb. At least, she better not. If she did, I’d turn her over my knee and beat that sexy little ass until it was glow-in-the-dark red.

“What is it?” Shadow was prepping for his match, his dark eyes taking in everything around them. “Somethin’ got you spooked?”

“Don’t know,” I said. “I just got this feelin’…” I trailed off as the announcement for the first match started. Brawler was in the first match. They didn’t say anything about gender, but then they rarely did unless it was some kind of women’s erotic wrestling. Besides, these types of fights rarely had women in them. They never lasted long, and they always had to fight men. Especially in the one-night tournaments. I’d seen more than one woman die or be so badly beaten they were unable to defend themselves against being brutally raped before my brothers and I stopped it. This time, it would blow our cover, and I couldn’t afford it.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Can you see that Brawler they just announced?”

“Yep.” Shadow shook his head. “Brawler’s a chick. Guess you were right, Samson. First fight has a woman. Though she looks like she can hold her own.”

“I swear to fuckin’ God, if that’s her…”

“You know the club sponsorin’ her? Southern Discomfort. Not very original, but cute.”

“No clue.” I pushed forward. “Come one. There’s four matches before you fight. Let’s check this out.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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.

New at Changeling Press: Own Goals by D.S. Dehel #sportsromance #agegap @ddehel

India Jackson’s star is on the rise. It’s taken forty years and a drawn-out divorce, but she’s finally proud of who she is and how life is treating her. Now, she’s setting her sights on the future. There is big snag, though — how people react when they find out her boyfriend Matt, one of the year’s hottest soccer talents, is only twenty-seven. She wonders how long it’ll be before he’s had enough of the gossip and call it quits.

The second half of any game is fraught with tension, and errors are likely. In soccer — and in life — an Own Goal happens when you screw up and score for the other team. When Matt racks up a personal one, India wonders if her future is with a different man… or if she’s making an unforced error of her own.

Save 15% at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 D. S. Dehel

“Aargh.” India chucked her pencil across the room, and Matt ducked, even though it came nowhere close to where he perched on the sofa.

“I’m annoyed that Bayern Munich missed the shot, but even I’m not throwing things.” She could hear the tease in his voice. “What’s up? Can’t find the right shade of pink?”

She appreciated that he was trying to coax her out of her mood, but it wouldn’t work this time. Maida had delayed their meeting yet again. At this rate, she would never get the singer’s gown done in time for the award ceremony, and with it went her best chance of launching a new career. “Luella just texted that there’s a problem.”

“Uh-oh. Another cancellation?” He pointed the remote at the television and the cheers of the German fans faded.

“Yeah. Probably.” She put her head in her hands. “I can’t believe this.” She could feel her dream slipping away.

Arms circled her. Matt must have come over. “I’m sorry, babe.”

He’s never called me that before. Having nothing to say, she shrugged.

He knelt down beside the chair. “Tell you what, tonight I’m going to cook you dinner.”

She stroked his face, enjoying the scratchy stubble. “You don’t have to do that. We can cook together.”

“Okay, we can do that, but I choose the recipe.”

“What are you up to?”

“I want to make my favorite dish.” He put his hands on her knees. “It always made me feel better when I had a bad day.”

“That’s really sweet.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I will gladly be your sous chef.”

He gestured toward the kitchen with his head. “I’m going to go see what you have and make a list of what we need. Then we’ll go shopping.”

Shopping was always an adventure with him. Last time, he’d nearly gotten them kicked out of the store by insisting they race carts down the frozen vegetable aisle. “I’m going to put the finishing touches on this.” She pointed at the sketch in front of her. In fact, she really should probably leave it alone and quit fussing.

Within twenty minutes, they stood in the vegetable aisle of the nearest market searching for the best carrots and turnips. “Turnips?” India wrinkled her nose. “Ugh.”

“Well, you haven’t had mine.” He held up two small purple and white globes, waggling his eyebrows.

“I am quite familiar with your turnips.”

He smirked. “And we need little ones because they’re sweeter.”

“I’m not going to touch that.”

“Not touch my turnips?” He pretended to pout as he held them out.

“You’re incorrigible.” She grabbed the vegetables and put them in the basket. “What else?”

“Carrots.” He dug through the stack, rejecting them one by one. “Too small. Too thin.” He gave a wicked glance over his shoulder. “You can only really cook with big, thick ones.”

India rolled her eyes, and was summoning up a witty riposte when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket, and once she read the message, she nearly dropped the phone on the floor. “Oh!”

Matt turned, a look of alarm on his face. “What?”

“She still wants to meet.” India’s heart was pounding. “Maida wants to have a video conference this afternoon.”

“That’s brilliant. When?”

“Three.” She glanced at her phone. “We have an hour.”

“I guess we better get a move on.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

D. S. Dehel is a lover of literature, good food, and the Oxford comma. When she is not immersed in a book, she is mom to her kids and spoiling her rather pampered feline, Mr. Darcy or her equally pampered puppy, Jameson, and her slightly psychotic Australian Shepherd, Piper. Having finally retire, she spends her days dreaming up new plotlines. She adores literary allusions, writing sex scenes, and British men. Actually, make that hot men in general. Her devoted husband is still convinced she writes children’s books. Please don’t enlighten him.

New at Changeling Press: Samurai (Devil’s Boneyard MC) by Harley Wylde #mcromance #romanticsuspense @HarleyW_Writer

Grey — Desperate times call for desperate measures, otherwise I’d never have signed a contract with Knox’s Pleasure Emporium. Selling myself for a few hours once is far better than my other option — letting my mother’s loan shark use me however he sees fit in order to recoup his money. I can’t even be angry with Mom since she’s no longer with us. She did what she’d thought was best at the time, but now I’m paying the price.

I didn’t count on a biker changing my life forever. Not only did we have a slight miscommunication that ended up leaving me with an eighteen-year commitment, but he’s my only hope of escaping my son’s father. Why do I keep getting tangled up with bad boys? It never ends well for me.

Samurai — I can admit my past has left me screwed up. I’d never thought I’d pay to be with a woman, but not just anyone can handle my needs. The little goddess I purchased isn’t anything like I expected. The way she gives into me so sweetly, and comes apart in my arms, makes it damn hard to forget her when our time is over. I didn’t realize I’d be seeing her again, under less than favorable circumstances.

She needs my protection. What do I do? Act like a bastard and call her names. Not my finest moment. Now I need to fix things before my cousin, Phantom, decides to step in and claim her for himself. I might have some issues to work through, but Grey is mine, and no one is taking her from me. Not Phantom, and not the man threatening Grey and her son. Because once I’m in, I’m all in. I’ll kill anyone who tries to take her from me. I promised Grey I wouldn’t get sent to prison. I didn’t promise to be good. I just won’t get caught.

WARNING: There are scenes with bad language, adult situations, violence, and talk of abuse that may bother some readers. No cheating. No cliffhanger. And a guaranteed happily-ever-after. Samurai is part of the Devil’s Boneyard MC series. While the series may best be enjoyed in order, each book can be read as a stand-alone.

Save 15% at Changeling Press Today

or…

Preorder for October 22nd ⬇️

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2ZyYIEA

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/3FihQqN

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/3uQ8IF5

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/3DcA9Mi

Apple Books: https://apple.co/2XXtFl6

B&N Nook: https://bit.ly/3zPcUps

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3uoISHX

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Harley Wylde

I didn’t want to be here. I had a feeling this would end badly, but I didn’t know what else to do. Ryo clutched my hand and I shifted from one foot to the other while the guy behind the gate looked me over. His gaze landed on Ryo and his eyes slightly widened as he took a step back.

“You said Samurai?” he asked. “Not Phantom?”

I didn’t know who Phantom was, or why this man would think I didn’t know who to ask for. Clearly I’d come here for a reason. Did women show up and get the men confused on a regular basis? I wasn’t sure how to take that.

“Samurai.” I took a step closer. “Please. It’s important.”

His gaze dropped to Ryo again. “I bet it is.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the gates and let us through. At least we’d made it this far. Samurai might very well tell me get to lost and never show my face here again. At least I’d get the chance to find out.

He pointed to a building not too far off. “He’s probably at the clubhouse. But um… you may not want to take the kid inside there. It’s not too wild at this time of day. Doesn’t mean people aren’t smoking, or that he wouldn’t see something he shouldn’t.”

Right. Because I was at a biker compound. Who knew what went on behind the gate, much less in the building he’d called a clubhouse. I doubted they were in there playing video games or watching movies.

“I can’t leave Ryo outside on his own,” I said.

The guy looked around and let out a shrill whistle. “Hey, Sam! Lady needs her kid watched for a minute.”

The other man jogged over. I noticed both wore the leather vest like Samurai had, but neither had a name on theirs. It only said Prospect. I had no idea what that meant, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“Sam, this is…” The guy rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “Sorry. Didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Grey and this is Ryo,” I said.

He nodded. “Right. Grey and Ryo. She’s here to see Samurai.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose as he stared at Ryo a moment. “All right. I can sit outside with him, or I can go in and get Samurai. Might be better to have him come outside.”

“Going inside doesn’t bother me,” I said. “But he said it wouldn’t be a good place for Ryo.”

Sam shook his head. “No, I have a feeling Samurai would kick my aa… uh, rear, if I let either of you into that building. You can sit in the shade. There’s a few chairs up on the porch.”

I led Ryo over to the building and claimed a chair while Sam went inside. I could hear laughter and music spill from the open doorway, as well as the sounds of women. My stomach soured when I pictured Samurai with them. It was stupid to come here. He wouldn’t want this baby, or me. Wouldn’t care about my problems or that my son was in danger.

I stood and lifted Ryo into my arms. “Come on, sweetheart. We shouldn’t have come here. We’ll go home and figure something else out.”

I walked down the steps and toward the gate, but the guy who’d let me in was shaking his head and pointing back at the clubhouse. “Nope. Sorry. I’m not letting you leave until you see Samurai.”

“Are you serious right now? It’s obvious I made a mistake coming here. Let me go before he comes out and…”

I heard heavy steps behind me and stopped mid-sentence. My nape prickled and I had a feeling the man in question was right behind me. Ryo’s head remained tucked against my chest, and I tightened my hold on him. If I’d had anyone to watch him, or felt safe leaving him behind, I wouldn’t have brought him with me.

“Before I come out and what?” Samurai asked. I’d recognize his voice anywhere.

Slowly, I turned to face him. He rocked back on his heels, his gaze going to Ryo. “Sorry to disappoint, but no fucking way that kid is mine. Your math is off by a few years.”

“I never said he was yours.” I backed up a step. “I needed help, but I shouldn’t have come here. He won’t open the gate and let me leave.”

Samurai’s gaze went over my shoulder and I saw him scanning the road. I knew what he’d see. Nothing. I didn’t have a car or any other transportation. I had to walk everywhere and coming way out here hadn’t been easy on either me or Ryo. Thankfully the weather had cooled a little, so I at least didn’t have my clothes and hair plastered to me from sweat. Could have been worse.

“You walked here carrying him?” he asked.

“Yes, and if you’ll tell him to let me go, then I’ll walk right back home. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Why did you?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

I shifted Ryo in my arms and felt my dress pull tight over my stomach. I tried to hide the small bump before he noticed and seemed to have managed since he didn’t say anything. Or maybe he didn’t care. This version of Samurai was very different from the one at the Pleasure Emporium. The man who’d made me cry out his name, who’d melted my bones with multiple orgasms, wasn’t the one eying me now.

“Some people in town have talked about the good things your club does. Toy drives and helping homeless women. I’d hoped you might know of a way to solve my problem, but it was wrong to even ask.”

“You sure the kid isn’t Phantom’s?” the guy at the gate asked.

Samurai’s eyes narrowed as he studied Ryo. The look he slid my way held a hint of hostility. I didn’t know why they kept bringing up Phantom.

“I’ve never met anyone named Phantom,” I said. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“He’s my older cousin, and your son resembles him,” Samurai said.

I didn’t want to do this out in the open, or where Ryo could hear, so I chose my words carefully. “Do you remember my first reaction to you, and why I said it happened?”

His chin went up and he cursed softly. “The guy who hurt you. The one you said was Japanese, like me.”

I ran my hand over Ryo’s hair. “He saw me last week, with Ryo. He knows, and he… he said he’s coming for us. I survived him once. Even if I could live through it again, I won’t let him get his hands on Ryo. My baby is a good boy. He’s sweet and innocent. If Itachi gets his hands on him…”

“Itachi Suzuki?” Sam asked. “That’s who you’re running from?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.

When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve. 

The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.

You can find out more about Harley or enter her monthly giveaway on her website. Be sure to join her newsletter while you’re there to learn more about discounts, signing events, and other goodies!