Intergalactic Brides Vol. 2 by Jessica Coulter Smith #scifi #aliens #RomanceBooks #ebook #paperback @changelingpress

Intergalactic Brides Vol. 2 (Intergalactic Brides 20)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Genres/Themes: Box Set, Futuristics, Sci-Fi, Alien Encounters, Alternate Universe,
Silver Fox, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance

 

Three aliens intent on finding their mates. Three human women willing to risk everything for a chance at happiness…

Charlotte and the Alien Ambassador: When her father demands she take her sister’s place in a bride exchange on another world, Charlotte decides to embrace her future. She knows it’s her last chance to find happiness, and she’ll do anything to grab it with both hands. The ethereal woman who steps off the shuttle holds Borgoz spellbound. She’s everything he’s ever wanted, and the one thing he can never have.

Hazel and the Alien Biker: Kicked off his home world after losing his mate, Reyvor has made a place for himself on Earth, spending his nights cruising the streets on his Harley. But a commotion outside his motel room just may turn out to be his saving grace. Hazel is hesitant to trust anyone again, but Reyvor is determined to make her his. What’s an alien to do when all he wants is a loving family to call his own? He’ll break down her defenses one by one, until she melts against him and begs for his kiss. Can he claim the feisty Hazel and her three little girls without completely losing his heart?

Jacie and the Alien Bodyguard: Stupid. Careless. Jacie has called herself ten times a fool. Now she’s pregnant and alone. When a tall, sexy hunk of alien male meets her at the shuttle station on his world, Jacie feels the stirrings of desire — even though that’s what got her into this mess in the first place. But there’s something about Barimere that’s different, and she doesn’t mean the scars on his face.

An alien warrior intent on fighting his attraction. A human female determined to bring him to his knees. What could possibly go wrong?

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Jessica Coulter Smith
Excerpt from Charlotte and the Alien Ambassador

“Are you Charlotte Mayweather?” the male asked.

She nodded. “Why can I understand you and not anyone else?”

“I, along with quite a few other males on this planet, have learned your Earth English. However, to make sure you can understand everyone around you, I’m going to implant you with a translator. I’ll also implant you with a sensor that will allow you to make purchases on our world. When you select a mate, he will pay for whatever you buy between now and then. Once your mating is approved, you’ll be added to his accounts everywhere in Terran Prime.”

“Thank you for explaining how everything works. I’ve been a little lost.”

He frowned. “May I ask a personal question?”

She nodded.

“Your voice is different from anyone else I’ve encountered from Earth. Are you from a special region?”

“I’m deaf.” She pointed to her hearing aids. “These allow me to hear a little, but it’s like listening to someone talk under water. I don’t always catch everything. And, while it allows me to hear a little, I can’t always tell how loud I’m speaking.”

“Understood. Perhaps, after you’ve found a mate, they will permit me to run some tests and see if we can restore your hearing.”

“I was born deaf. My mother had preeclampsia when she was pregnant with me, and I was born early. Some of the bones inside my ear didn’t form correctly. A doctor tried to explain it to me once, but I didn’t understand the terms he used.”

The doctor nodded. “Well, we’ll take care of those implants today and if you decide you wish me to run tests later, then that’s what we’ll do.”

She meekly followed the doctor into a back room and stretched out on the table at his direction. He explained the procedure to her before giving her some gas to put her to sleep. When next she woke, her wrist and the back of her ear hurt a little, but otherwise she couldn’t tell she’d had anything done.

Charlotte found the other male pacing in the lobby.

“Can you understand me now?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I have a translator, so I understood everything you told the doctor. You’re not Charity Mayweather, are you?”

“Charity is my younger sister.”

The Terran’s face flushed with anger. “Your father lied to me. He said he was sending Charity here to find a husband, not her deaf older sister.”

She felt shame burn through her as she realized she was about to be cast aside again. Charlotte knew she should be accustomed to it by now but it still hurt, knowing she wasn’t good enough for yet one more man.

“If you send me back to Earth, I’ll be homeless,” she said. “My father said if I didn’t come here and find a husband, I would be thrown out of the house and all my accounts would be closed.”

The Terran muttered something, raked a hand through his waist-length hair, and then faced her with his hands on his hips. “I’m Chief Councilor Borgoz and you’ll be staying in my home. You may not be the sister I was expecting, but I’m not about to leave you stranded here. Especially with your condition.”

“I’m deaf, not stupid.”

The harshness of his face relaxed into an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were stupid, but there are many dangers on a new world for anyone, much less someone who can’t hear. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted or as if you were a burden.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time in my life I’ve felt that way.”

His gaze narrowed. “Your father made you feel unwanted?”

“And my sister. Be thankful she didn’t come in my place. She’s a spoiled, selfish brat who always has to get her way or she screams and throws things.” It felt good to be honest about her sister without fear of being punished. Everyone always treated Charity as if she was a princess, and Charlotte was tired of it.

“Right. Well, let’s get you settled. I’m sure you’ll want more things than what you brought with you. Once you’ve had a chance to put your belongings away, I’ll take you shopping for anything you had to leave behind.”

“I don’t need much. As long as you have something to wash with, I’ll be fine. I have enough clothes to last a week before I’ll have to do laundry.”

“An Earth week is seven days, correct?”

She nodded.

“A Terran week is eleven days. You’ll need more clothes. Things are different here on Terran. We don’t have machines in our homes to launder our clothes, and the shop in town that handles it is usually busy. You’ll want as many outfits as possible.”

He crooked his elbow and she curled her hand around it, watching as he hefted her bag as easily if it contained no more than feathers.

Charlotte tried to take in the scenery as they walked through Terran Prime. Borgoz explained that, while he had a vehicle to maneuver through the city, he thought she might like the walk to stretch her legs after such a long shuttle ride.

When they reached his home, her jaw dropped as she stared at the massive structure. She’d lived in a mansion all her life, but Borgoz’s home surpassed that of her father’s by a fourth floor and probably another twenty feet in width. She tried not to stumble over her feet as he led her up the stairs and into his home. Charlotte looked everywhere, not wanting to miss a thing.

Borgoz handed her bag to another male, and they followed him up the stairs to her room. It was twice the size of her bedroom at home with doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking a garden. It was gorgeous, and for the first time in her life she felt lucky. She was glad her father had sent her here, and had hope that her future would be bright and wonderful.

She turned from the fantastic view to find Borgoz studying her. Charlotte couldn’t guess his age. There were no wrinkles on his face, but the silver in his hair told her he was probably forty at the least. But then, she didn’t know how Terrans aged. For all she knew, he was pushing seventy like the vile old man her father had tried to force her to marry.

Borgoz was a handsome man. His purple eyes were dark like a pansy and quite beautiful. Those eyes were taking her in, and she wondered if he found her lacking like everyone else in her life. If she’d known she was coming to a palace, she may have dressed a little nicer for her trip. She tugged on the hem of her tank and wondered if she should change clothes before going shopping with him. He was being kind enough to give her a place to stay, the least she could do was not embarrass him in front of his people.

“I’ll come back in thirty of your Earth minutes to see if you’ve finished unpacking. If you’re hungry, we can stop for a bite to eat while we’re out and then go shopping. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything you need. If you can’t find me, Helio will help you,” he said, indicating the other male.

“Thank you.”

Borgoz gave her a regal nod and then he exited with his servant.

Left alone, she quickly unpacked and changed into a pretty sundress so she would be appropriately attired for an outing with someone so important, then she spent the rest of her time admiring the view. Charlotte hoped she’d get a chance to walk through that garden and admire the petals of the vibrant flowers close up. This world was amazing and full of new and wonderful things. She couldn’t wait to explore as much of it as she was allowed.

 

More from Jessica Coulter Smith…

 

Genesis by Gale Stanley #LGBT #PNR #shifters #NewRelease @changelingpress @GaleStanley

Genesis (Wolf Pack 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Genres/Themes: BDSM, Futuristic, Paranormal, Gay, Multiple Partners,
New Adult, Werewolves

 

In the Agéli Lýkon Wolf Pack, there are two types of men, Alpha and omega. Since the knotting ceremony, the submissive Bleu has had no problem adjusting to his position as Grey’s human omega. Their love is strong and their bond is unbreakable. But when they reach out to help another Alpha, their relationship is put to the test.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Gale Stanley

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Friday afternoon, and the wolves were ready to party. They never needed an excuse, but Lykos Stavros, the chapter president of Agéli Lýkon, had planned this celebration for a special reason. The new Alpha pledges had knotted with their human omegas and were now part of the Brotherhood. The omegas were accepted as well, although there were restrictions. They weren’t permitted to live in the fraternity house with their Alphas. Stavros had decided the omegas would be more useful as spies if they lived in the dorms.

The number of Alphas had increased quite a bit since Bleu became Grey’s omega two years ago when they were freshmen. Twenty-two Alphas now resided in the frat house. Stavros considered twenty-two a magic number because two symbolized dualities. The dual nature of the Alphas, wolf and man, was at the heart of the Brotherhood.

The increasing numbers elated Stavros, who didn’t want to reveal their existence until he had gathered many more of his kind. He feared human bigotry and prejudice would wipe out the small band of brothers. Bleu thought he was probably right.

Bleu’s last class had finished at three and he’d come straight to the frat house to help get things ready. The party room had wood paneling that made it look old and sophisticated, but it had everything the brothers needed for a good time. Leather couches provided seating. A wooden bar and a beer pong table filled most of the far wall. Another wall had shelves for a music system and a big screen TV.

Bleu checked the bar to make sure it was stocked. Everything looked ready and the guys were trickling in as their classes ended. Bleu and Grey filled Solo cups with Wolf Spirit Vodka and raised their glasses to a fun night.

At midnight, things got boisterous. Couples were doing tequila shots while others were performing some seriously suggestive dance moves. Many had removed their shirts and pants and were gyrating in their underwear. It looked more like foreplay than dancing. Or the start of a spontaneous orgy. Bleu’s juices were starting to simmer. His tall, dark, handsome Alpha looked especially sexy tonight. A slow number started playing and he was ready to take his footwork to the next level, but Grey begged off.

“I’m tired of dancing. I think I’ll get another drink and sit this one out.”

“Please, Grey. I like this song.”

“How about I find you another partner?” Grey waved over Aleksys Kosta, who’d been his big brother when he was a pledge. “Hey, Alek. Wanna dance with my omega while I get a drink?”

“Love to. Danny is already shit-faced and stumbling over his own feet.” Alek pushed his omega away and approached Bleu. Danny stared after him, a sullen expression on his face.

“Anything wrong?” Grey asked.

Alek grimaced. “Same old same old. Why can’t he live with me at the frat house? I don’t see him enough. I look at other men. It’s all bullshit.”

Grey smiled. “Do you remind him who’s boss?”

“Of course, but his answer to everything is alcohol.”

“Maybe I’ll keep him company at the bar.” Grey walked off.

Bleu stood silent and studied Alek. When Grey pledged, Alek had been Grey’s main source of friendship and support, and they’d been close friends ever since. They’d been lovers, too, but all that stopped when they bonded with their omegas. Bleu had a healthy sexual appetite and he fulfilled Grey’s desires eagerly. They didn’t need anyone else.

But Alek was incredibly attractive, with his thick brown hair and chiseled features, and behind that all-American frat boy look was a sexy, well-hung dominant. Bleu licked his lips. He wanted to woof at the moon. Then he remembered Grey and Danny, and he felt guilty.

Bleu didn’t know the other omega very well. They shared one class and Bleu had tried to befriend Danny, but it hadn’t gone well. Whenever Bleu tried to start a conversation, Danny replied with one-word answers. Bleu didn’t take offense. Danny treated everyone that way. Everyone but Alek.

Alek took Bleu by the hand. “You’re thinking too much. Let’s dance.”

He led Bleu to the center of the room where space had been cleared for dancing. Alek took Bleu in his arms and guided him around the floor. He was a seductive dancer, grinding his body against Bleu’s in time to the slow tempo. The press of Alek’s rock-hard dick against his thigh sent shivers up Bleu’s spine.

Alek nuzzled Bleu’s blond hair and his warm breath fanned Bleu’s ear. “You’re a good dancer.”

“You’re easy to follow.”

Alek pressed his palm to the small of Bleu’s back and pulled him closer. He ground his hips against Bleu’s. Heat curled in Bleu’s belly and he returned the movement. He felt Alek’s hand slip past the waistband of his boxer briefs, but he didn’t protest. Alek squeezed his cheeks and pulled Bleu closer still. Bleu felt giddy. Was it the alcohol, or the man he was dancing with?

Alek’s fingers traced Bleu’s crease as he kissed and sucked on Bleu’s neck. Bleu whimpered, suddenly afraid that he might come right there on the dance floor. He looked up at Alek, wide-eyed.

“You’re irresistible,” Alek whispered. “The way you look at me with those blue eyes…”

Bleu scanned the room for Grey. His Alpha had an arm around Danny, but he met Bleu’s eyes and smiled. Bleu settled back into Alek’s embrace and their bodies moved in unison, their cocks grinding together. Then Alek slid a finger inside Bleu’s hole.

Bleu uttered a high-pitched mewl and wiggled his hips.

“Oh, you are delicious,” Alek murmured.

 

More from Gale Stanley…

 

Their Perfect Sub by Megan Slayer #BDSM #NewRelease #DarkDesire #MultiplePartners #RomanceBooks @MeganSlayer @changelingpress

Their Perfect Sub (The Jordan Brothers 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Contemporary, 2nd Chance Romance,
Bisexual and More, Multiple Partners, Dark Desire

 

Clint Jordan has been the oddball in his family. He’s the oldest, but has no desire to run the family business. He’s in love with Ronan, despite his mother’s determination to find him a wife. Plus, he wants to share a sub with Ronan. Is there someone out there who can fit their needs and bring them together?

Zari’s running from a past that won’t go away. She needs stability and two men who will cherish her… while giving her a good paddling. When she meets Ronan and Clint, she’s convinced they’re meant to own her. Will these two committed men have space in their life for her?

Ronan got more than he bargained for when he became Clint’s lover. He’s not only with Clint, but he’s under the rule of the Jordan family. Once Zari enters the equation, he’s forced to admit his true feelings for Clint and accept what he needs from Zari. But things aren’t always the way they seem. Zari comes with baggage, and Clint’s determined to make the triad work. Will Ronan accept their terms or walk away?

 

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EXCERPT:

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Megan Slayer

“I hate waiting.” Clint Jordan sat on the edge of the sofa and debated how he wanted to present himself. He hated arguments with Ronan more than he detested waiting. A piece of his heart had ripped out when Ronan left. He wished they hadn’t shouted at each other. Ronan was his other half. Going to the office sucked without Ronan across the hallway. Moreover, he missed his sub.

Clint couldn’t sit still. He forced himself not to check the clock for the hundredth time. He didn’t regret taking part in the collaring ceremony with his brother Dashiell and Dash’s wife, Christy. The ceremony had been beautiful and sexy, and she’d only blown him while Dash fucked her.

But Clint hadn’t told Ronan about the ceremony.

Keeping quiet wasn’t smart, but not awful enough for him and Ronan to split. Christy would’ve been overwhelmed by having three cocks, and Dash wouldn’t have allowed Ronan to join in.

The door opened and Clint sat up straighter. He’d devoted the last two years to Ronan and needed him more than ever.

Ronan stepped into the living room. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He wanted to move, but damn it, he couldn’t shake the tension. “Sit down.”

Only Ronan could have him this off-balance.

Ronan sat opposite him and said nothing.

Clint wasn’t sure where to start. “Do you know why you weren’t included in the ceremony?” He owed Ronan a better explanation than none.

“Got right to the point, didn’t you?” Ronan sighed. He now had dark circles under his brown eyes. He looked tired. His black hair needed to be brushed and he should have run an iron over his shirt. He hadn’t shaved in at least two days, and the dusting of hairs on his cheeks and chin added to his appeal. He stole Clint’s breath.

“We need to sort this out,” Clint said. “This is the only way.” No one could ever say he wasn’t blunt.

“We do.” Ronan leaned back in his seat. “I hate fighting.” The collar of his shirt hid the silver chain he always wore — the collar Clint had given him.

“Likewise.” Clint exhaled and swept his gaze over Ronan again. He wanted to kiss his lover and prove everything was all right. He also wanted to know Ronan hadn’t removed the collar. “I hate you’re upset and hate I caused it.”

The muscle in Ronan’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

“The reason they didn’t include you and I didn’t invite you along was Christy. Think about it. Doing three guys is a lot for anyone to take. Sure, some can, and others would love it, but after what she’s been through — the shit at the club, the guys taking advantage and her worthless so-called family — I didn’t have the heart to push. Until Dash rescued her, she’d been treated like garbage. If we’d all been there, she’d have thought Dash was no different. That’s not fair.”

“So? It’s expected at the club.” Ronan folded his arms. “We’ve watched tests of the subs where they’re expected to do more than that.”

Clint knew this game. Ronan wanted to make him hurt, too. “Hold up. I’ve never passed you around, and when I collared you, it was just us,” Clint murmured.

“Everyone does the ceremony in their own fashion. You never had to prove anything to me.”

“I know.”

“Dash knew what he was doing, and he’d approved everything except the blowjob with Christy,” Clint said. “I was the witness.”

“You joined in.” Ronan’s eyes blazed.

“Because I was asked.”

“And you couldn’t have mentioned it to me? Oh, hey, my brother wants me to do his old lady because he wants to collar her. Do you mind?” Ronan growled. “I might have minded.”

“You said no chicks.” Clint leaned on his elbows. “Dash wanted you to be at the wedding. He’d planned on you being one of his attendants. It killed me to go alone.”

“Yet you flew right off to Vegas and left me here.” Ronan shook his head. “I would’ve stayed in the damn hotel room.”

“I not only invited you, but I expected you to come along. You decided you were too… I believe you said sick, to come.” Clint lowered his tone, despite his overwhelming desire to scream. Shouting never solved anything. “My brother asked for me to join in. It wasn’t a slight to you. I honored his wishes. If he’d have said he wanted me to do more than witness, I might have hesitated, and I would’ve told you.”

Ronan rubbed his forehead, then flicked his hair out of his eyes. “I know.”

Clint paused. Ronan had confused him. “Is that why you’re angry? Tell me the whole truth.”

 

More from Megan Slayer…

 

Invincible by Beth D. Carter #NewRelease #Suspense #RomanceBooks @evernightpub @BethDCarter

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ABOUT THE BOOK

Lee Masterson is a gun for hire. He’s shut himself off to almost everything, existing with the memory of a woman he loved fiercely but had to let go for her safety. But his carefully constructed walls are shattered when a threat is made against Lidah Wilcox’s life, sending him back to Kentucky in an desperate effort to protect her.

The hole in Lidah’s heart never fully closed when Lee died, and when he suddenly resurrects from the grave, she’s overwhelmed with emotion and memories.  Twenty-two years of emptiness lie between them, and she’s unprepared for the love that comes surging back to life.

Lee will do anything to protect Lidah, yet he can’t walk away for a second time. Danger brought them back together, but can they keep each other safe when it stalks them again?

 

What’s the signature song for Invincible?

Definitely “Feel Invincible” by Skillet. The first time I ever heard the song I immediately thought of my hero, Lee Masterson, and the fantastic lyrics drove the story plot.

What is your writing process? Do you outline, write by the seat of your pants (Pantser) or a combination of both?

I’m more of a pantser but every once in a while, I’ll list chapters and a sentence or two on what needs to happen in that chapter.

What inspired you to write Invincible?

Lee Masterson, the hero of Invincible, first appeared in my book “Take Aim and Reload” which was book 3 in the Forgotten Rebels MC series. He was also in book 4 “Warrior”. When I was writing that book Lee kept hammering at me for his own story. He’s such an interesting character I had to comply.

Was there as specific part of the story that you absolutely loved writing as well as not enjoyed writing?

I loved coming up with how Lee finds out Lidah is in trouble. He gets this text message threatening her, that he may be invincible…but is she? It’s one of my favorite scenes in all of my books!  As for not enjoying, I would say there’s not really any scene that’s got a negative vibe. This story really flew out of my fingers and I really enjoyed writing it. I’m already under way writing book 2 in the World of Danger series.

 

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EXCERPT

He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popping the top before making his way to the living room. The cool marble tile gave way to plush, cream colored carpet and he sank down into his comfortable, cushiony sofa before toeing off his shoes and propping his feet up on the coffee table. The sparse decoration fit his lifestyle, since he was constantly on the move. He took a long swig of beer and leaned his head back. Exhaustion descended over him and he closed his eyes. The thought of how much longer he could continue in his line of work was an abstract concept that solidified with every job completed. The simple fact was he was getting far too old for the same old shit.

“Lidah?”

“Yes, Lee?”

“Play the tape.”

A second later, a soft voice came through his speakers. A memory from long ago that always managed to soothe him whenever weariness took root in his soul. For an infinitesimal moment, the world fell away to transport him back in time. He could still see her, the one woman he could never forget, frozen forever as a teenager who looked up at him with love in her eyes.

“Hi Lee, it’s Lidah. I was wondering if you’d like to, um, go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with me. ‘Cause, you know, girls have to ask boys. All right. No worries if you don’t want to. Um. Okay. Bye.”

Of course, he’d accepted. He had a crush on her the moment he’d laid eyes on her his first day of high school. If life had dealt him a better hand, he would have married her one day, and the thought still broke his heart.

“Lee,” Lidah the computer said, breaking into his melancholy memory. “You have a message coming through from an unknown IEP.”

Lee opened his eyes and sat up a little straighter. He placed his beer on the coffee table. “Spam?”

“No. It’s encrypted.”

“From JD?”

“No.”

“Viruses?”

“None. It is addressed to you, marked as urgent.”

Suddenly wary, he dug out his phone from his front pocket. “Send it to my cell.”

His phone beeped, and he swiped it to check the message. A black screen appeared, and a sentence rolled across it. “They say you’re invincible.”

Lee frowned. “What the hell?”

The screen went dark, only to be replaced with a picture. A photo of a woman, and although time had brought maturity and wisdom to her face, Lee recognized her immediately. Lidah! Layered red hair looking like fire in the sunlight. Kindness shining from her brown eyes. The living Lidah had developed into a beautiful woman, but just as that thought flashed through his head another message came through.

“Is she?”

 

ABOUT BETH D. CARTER

I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers.  I try to write characters who aren’t cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box.  I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love. I love to hear from readers so I’ve made it really easy to find me on the web:

Twitter / Facebook / Instagram / BookBub / Amazon Author Page

http://bethdcarter.blogspot.com/

 

Dawg Town (Tails) multi-author set #boxset #PNR #bisexual #MCromance #bikerbooks #multiplepartners #shifters @changelingpress

Dawg Town (Tails) (Dawg Town Multi-Author 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Renee George
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Shifters, Bisexual and more, Multiple Partners, Wildest West, MC Romance

 

One very special town. A whole lot of very bad — and very hot — Dawgs. Prairie Dawgs, that is…

Anne Kane — Hustle: A game of pool turns into a sexy seduction, Prairie Dawg style.

Lena Austin — Bad Dawg: One OTR trucker. One leather-clad biker. One very special town.

Marteeka Karland — Hot Dawg: Selene’s hot pink Harley is pointed straight to adventure, Dawg Town style.

Mary Winter: Chip & Dale: Usually a prairie dog colony is one male, several females. Tusa wants it the other way around.

Dawn Montgomery — Playing for Keeps: Riley holds all the cards, but Tara’s playing for keeps.

Camille Anthony — Puppy Dawg: It’ll take both hell and high water to set two stumbling lovers on the path to each other.

Tuesday Richards — Mad Dawg: Bryce’s bad started when he dodged a prairie dog and laid down his prized motorcycle… Can the day get any worse?

Carlanime Bligh — Prairie Rose: There’s a hunky new librarian in town, the moon is full, and Rose is in heat!

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 The Changelings
Excerpt from Hustle (Anne Kane)

Kaylee paused and stared at the prairie dog town that spread out endlessly across the flat terrain. Hundreds of the cute little critters popped their heads out of their burrows and started to whistle the minute she’d stepped out of her sporty little Miata in the parking lot of the Prairie Dawg Saloon. The full moon tonight must be affecting the furry little things.

She ran her fingers through her hair and pushed her way through the front doors of the saloon. The subdued roar of conversation she’d heard from the far end of the parking lot stopped as every male in the place turned to stare at her.

Great. She’d come here to blow off some steam. After a hellish day at work that culminated in that bitch of a boss firing her in a very public display of jealousy, she didn’t need a whole room full of people staring at her. She glared at the two men closest, a couple of burly biker types she’d normally drool over, and they quickly looked away. She turned her head to glare at the room in general and felt a surge of satisfaction when the men shrugged and went back to whatever it was they were discussing.

Pleased with herself, she stalked over to the bar and hopped up onto a barstool. A nice cold bottle of beer would go a long way toward helping her mellow out. She spotted the bartender talking to a dark-haired man farther down the bar. He straightened up when she caught his eye and headed toward her.

“Evenin’, ma’am. Name’s Bucky.” He studied her with open curiosity. “I don’t recall seeing you around before, but you look mighty familiar.”

Kaylee rolled her eyes. That had to be the lamest pickup line in the book, and she didn’t dignify it with an answer. “Give me a cold beer. Please.”

“Comin’ right up.” He gave her a bucktoothed grin and waddled off toward the cooler.

She eyed up his plump figure, struck by his amazing resemblance to the prairie dogs that lived in a huge warren of dens and burrows outside of town. The locals occasionally grumbled about the antics of the cute little rodents, but they were fiercely protective of them. “They may be a dang nuisance,” Aunt Cee often said, “but they’re our nuisances, and nobody’s going to hurt a hair on any one of their plump little butts.”

Well, cute as the prairie dogs were, a plump butt didn’t send any shivers of excitement down her spine. She swiveled on the bar stool and surveyed the prospects. For a notorious biker hangout, the action looked tame. Sure, most of the guys sported at least some leather…

“Blake. It must’ve been Blake.”

She turned back to the bar, frowning as she accepted the frosty bottle from Bucky. “What must have been Blake?”

“Sorry, sometimes I’m a bit hard to follow.” He gave her an apologetic shrug. “Blake was a real nice guy, friend of just about everyone here. He came in one day, bragging about this girl in town, real looker. Said he was going straight, going to marry her. Got picked off by a damn eagle the very next morning.” Bucky shook his head sadly. “Never did figure out who the girl was, but it must’ve been your mama. You’re the spittin’ image of him, and the scent is unmistakable.”

Kaylee stared at the chubby bartender in alarm. She assumed an eagle would have to be a rival biker gang, but what the hell did he mean by “scent”? Surely, he didn’t think she smelled like some guy he used to know! She picked up her beer and edged away from the bar. The last thing she needed today was another person flipping out.

A movement at the back of the bar caught her eye as a dark-haired biker sauntered across the well-worn dance floor. Snug fitting jeans showed off his tight butt as he leaned over an ancient jukebox and pushed a few buttons. An old country tune filled the air, and the man straightened, turning to face her.

Kaylee sucked in a deep breath as molten heat ignited deep inside her and she felt her pussy dampen. He caught her gaze, dark eyes smoldering with passion as he sauntered over to one of the well-worn tables and picked up a long-necked bottle, taking a deep swig. Tall and lean, he wore a tight tee shirt and a worn leather vest with those jeans. No plump butt on this one. Despite the sudden feeling that she was in way over her head, Kaylee found her herself drifting in the direction of the jukebox.

 

Something Wicked by Dahlia Rose #DarkFantasy #PNR #DarkDesire #Interracial @changelingpress

Something Wicked (Dark Love 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Dark Fantasy, Dark Desire, Paranormal, Interracial, Second Editions

 

Humans are marks in Locke’s ledger, nothing more, until he encounters the one woman he can’t tempt, can’t coerce and can’t get out of his head.

Paris Fairchild lives from one paycheck to the next, yet Locke’s never seen anyone happier with their life. Being a demon, Locke could spirit her anywhere, give her anything, but she wants to earn what she gets on her own, no easy way out.

Instead of walking away, Locke finds himself charmed by the young woman and after stealing a kiss he knows he wants to see the world through her eyes. For the first time in an eternity he sees something besides darkness in his future. But there will be a price to pay for falling in love and breaking his contract with hell. When the hounds of hell are set loose, can he withstand the gathering storm to have a forever with Paris by his side?

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Dahlia Rose

He walked in the shadows of the building. The city was ripe with sin, and he was all set to pluck the wayward fruit. Locke was the name he’d been known by for so many years he’d lost count. He frowned as he thought back. Sometimes he forgot the person he had been before. He’d given up everything, or was it nothing? Locke couldn’t remember. He knew it had been his choice to become this thing, this monster who preyed on souls. He was the strongest. He would survive while the others would be crushed.

Sirens wailing, couples arguing and fucking, the aroma of food, and the heat of the day seeping up from the cement brought his attention back to the present. Voices yelled in different languages. He understood them all. A man was trying to sell a tourist a knock-off purse. He talked as though he had little English knowledge, but knew exactly what people were saying. Locke shook his head in amusement when the guy talked the woman out of fifty dollars for a purse he claimed was authentic.

As he walked past a cafe, he took three steps back to look in the window. A waitress wiped her hair away from her face as she bussed a table, stacking dirty dishes on a big tray. She frowned as she picked up her two-dollar tip. When he looked at the table, he saw she was clearly under compensated. Without a doubt, she was the one. Locke saw a new soul to be reaped, one who clearly wanted more from life. He stepped in the Cafe La Paz and sat at a table.

Another waitress came over with a big smile, an appreciative look in her eyes.

“What can I get ya, sweetheart? I do mean anything,” she said in a breathy voice. He could smell the stink of her last cigarette on her breath. Nasty habit.

He pointed at his quarry. “You can get me… her.”

The waitress frowned and her eyes flashed with irritation before she called out, “Paris, your table.”

“Be right there.” The dark-skinned beauty glanced at him casually. Walking to the kitchen, she put away her tray. On her way back, she pulled a pad out of her apron pocket. “Good evening. Welcome to Cafe La Paz. Have you had a chance to look over the menu?”

Locke assessed her. She was pretty in a simple way. Her ebony skin had a sheen from hard work giving her the look of a polished statue made of wood. Her dark brown eyes were wide and her lashes shone like soft waves when she blinked. Her lips were full and colored with lip gloss. She was wearing her hair in a simple ponytail with soft curls in the back.

“Sir?” she prodded gently. “Something to drink?”

“Espresso,” he said. “The other one who smells like cigarettes called you Paris.”

“Yes, that’s my name,” Paris replied.

“I am Locke.” He placed his hand over his chest and bowed.

“Okay, and are you ready to order?” she asked, dismissing the introduction.

“What do you suggest?” Locke asked, amused by her businesslike attitude.

“The spinach crepes with hollandaise sauce is my favorite.”

“Then I’ll have that.”

She moved efficiently to get his coffee, and when it was ready, his meal. She checked in on him as he ate. Paris kept her distance, unlike her co-worker, who kept staring at him. Locke ate as if he enjoyed the food, but in reality every meal tasted the same to him. He didn’t need to eat, but did sometimes to blend in. The only thing that filtered through to his taste buds was the bitterness of espresso. He admitted he loved the taste of the dark brew. Even one like him had vices.

“Anything else?” Paris asked.

“No, I’ve gotten what I came for.”

She gave him a curious look before ripping the receipt off her notepad and placing it on the table with a smile. He was finished his assessment. He reached into his empty pocket and the money he thought of appeared beneath his fingertips. He pulled it out and placed it on the table before standing and walking out the door.

Paris rushed after him a few seconds later. “Sir! Sir!”

He turned. “Locke.”

“Sir.” She didn’t use his name. “You left one hundred dollars for a meal that cost twenty. Don’t you want your change?”

“No, that’s your tip,” Locke replied.

“Why?” Paris asked.

He liked her bluntness. “Because I think you deserve that, and much more.”

“Uh-huh,” she said warily. “I’m giving you notice now, creeps who follow me home usually get a burst of Mace in the face. No one does anything in this town for nothing.”

“It’s just a tip,” Locke assured her. “Goodnight, Paris.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” Paris turned and headed back into the cafe.

He’d made the first move. From there he played the scenario out in his head. She was fierce in her distrust but he sensed the goodness in her like a beacon reaching out. She would make the bosses very happy indeed. A soul like hers fetched a pretty penny in the depths of hell.

More from Dahlia Rose at Changeling Press …

Maybelle Summers and the Demons from Hell by Jonathan Wright #DarkDesire#DarkFantasy #PNR @changelingpress

Maybelle Summers and the Demons From Hell

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Dark Desire

 

Maybelle Summers is a hot honey blond with a heart of gold and notably bad taste in men. That golden heart prompts her to make another in a long line of bad decisions — to wit borrowing money from one Burdette Hunter, the local crime boss.

Enter Quill, an Incubus sent to seduce Maybelle into giving up her soul to Satan. But like Maybelle, Quill sometimes makes bad decisions — like falling for Maybelle. And claiming her — but not for Satan.

Fortunately Maybelle’s equally head over heals for Quill. All of which sets Maybelle on a course that will put Burdette, his collectors (Bad Bob, Bo Williams and Lark Conner), and even Satan himself on her trail. Unfortunately — for Satan — Maybelle’s not really quite as human as she thought she was.

Sometimes even Satan’s past can catch up with him…

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Jonathan Wright

Two a.m. in Hollow Glen. Owls and crickets and Bad Bob — one of Burdette Hunter’s bill collectors, 6’ 5” and nothing but nasty. He kicked in the door to Maybelle’s trailer.

Another man, tall and lean, but nowhere near Bad Bob’s 6’ 5”, hung back in the shadows, waiting near the door.

Bob grunted, stooping a bit to get in the door, “Okay, Maybelle, I come to collect.”

Maybelle was still awake because thinking about the inevitable — in this case Bad Bob or an equivalent permutation — made sleep impossible. Having just erased the simple chalk design on her kitchen table after putting away the five little pink birthday candles and fussing about the melted wax, she shrank back, trying not to be lush and sensual, failing badly.

I wish for a hero and I get nothing. Typical. A complete waste of a pentagonal. She quickly wished hives and bad breath on the person who’d sold her the “self help” pamphlet, figuring she’d get similar results. “What, it takes two of you to break my fingers?”

Bob glanced around, frowning. “What? Don’t play games, bitch. Look, Burdette don’t want me to break nothin’. He just wants to talk.” Bob grinned like a gator, all bad teeth and naked hunger. “He told me I get to make sure you got all your workin’ parts in order.”

Maybelle expected Bob had exaggerated the flexibility of his own authority somewhat. Then she glanced at the other man, who stood quietly, watching. Hard face. Hard body. Hard eyes. She thought he said something, low and menacing.

Frying pan or the fire? She snarled at Bob. “I don’t have the money. Went for doctor bills for Miss Elma, down at the end of the street.” The street being the end of the dirt path folks around here called a road. “The medicine probably saved her life.” Probably nothing, it had. Maybelle got some degree of satisfaction from that.

Bob smirked. “Don’t matter.”

Maybelle understood that better than a Nobel prize winning physicist understood gravity. Burdette wanted to fuck her, and own her, and not in a good way.

“Burdette says you can turn tricks. That body’s worth somethin’. Got to be sure, though.” He moved quicker than she expected and pinned her hot curves against the wall, which flexed alarmingly.

Sepulchral voice from the other. “So what’ll it be? Frying pan or the fire?”

Maybelle chose — having no choice — and screamed defiantly, “Fuck you!”

Bob would have laughed but instead sailed out the door. Hideous shapes snagged his screaming ass and disappeared into the night. His end did not bode well.

Maybelle gasped with shock, breathing heavily, heaving tits and flushed face. “What — what just happened?” She stared at the hard guy and trembled. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing you need to know. Maybe best if you don’t.”

Maybelle didn’t like the sound of that. “He didn’t see you.” She trembled before his penetrating stare.

“Wouldn’t have liked it much if he had.”

That made her shiver. Christ, exactly the kind of guy I want and don’t need. And like that, her nipples got hard and her cunt got hot and wet and she started to tremble.

“What’s your price?” she asked in her patented hot-honey voice that meant she wanted to be fucked right now and which only seemed to manifest at really inconvenient times like this.

He looked her up and down. She saw his cock get big and hard in his pants. Major myth, that guys got hard from just looking at women. But there he stood, hard as a rock.

She smelled his male musk, like a drug to her libido. Her voice dropped an octave, into a husky whisper. “So — so you want to — you want my — body?”

Still nothing, unless one counted the discernible tightening of his jaw and the way his eyes narrowed. His hands flexed, opening and closing like he would use them to mold her body to his will.

She shivered again. “Okay. Yeah…” She stripped, not from fear but because she had come close to something very like death and he had saved her and she wanted him to see her nude body and know he could have her if he wanted. Afraid, yes. Very afraid. But getting more and more aroused under his flat stare. Jesus, even his eyes are quiet.

When she stood nude before him, he touched her, almost reverently, hard hands gently but confidently tracing the map of her raging hunger, the hunger she hated for the crappy men it brought into her life. She closed her eyes and moaned, then silently cursed herself for a slut.

“Quiet,” he commanded. “This time I’ll judge your worth.”

… this time… That scared the shit out of her, and made her screaming hungry for his cock. She leaned back against the flimsy wall and moaned again, unable to move except as his hands commanded. “Who are you?” she gasped, already on the edge of unending ecstasy.

“The fire.” His voice went deeper, making her tremble. “Your wish was simple, so the payment is simple. I take you.”

 

More from Jonathan Wright at Changeling Press …