Now in Paperback: The Slayer by Stephanie Burke #darkfantasy #BDSM @FlashyCat

Revenant is what they call him. For centuries, Kye has not lived, he has merely existed. Moving from city to city, continent to continent, Kye is always searching for the one man who visited upon him the destruction of his family and the shattering of his soul.

Tali is a woman with a mission of her own. Her objective, find the vampire Balthazar and, by any means, send what is left of his soul fleeing from this life.

When two slayers meet, the results are bound to be… Violent. Explosive. And erotic. But if they both work together, they may overcome the insane odds stacked against them and, just possibly, come out alive.

Publisher’s Note: This book was previously published and has been re-edited for this release.

Get the paperback at Amazon

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Stephanie Burke

God, he hated enemas.

But a man — he snorted at the thought — had to do what he had to do. With a grimace of disgust, he quickly prepared the small plastic bottle and thoroughly cleaned his insides before he headed for the showers. He had to scour away the feeling of violation before he soaked in the vanilla scented waters he’d prepared earlier.

The comforting smell of the perfumed steam was incentive enough for him to hurry through his scrubbing so that he would have adequate time to soothe himself in the steaming waters of his bath.

He stared down at his feet morosely, watching the last of the soapy water roll down the drain, before crossing the tiled room on silent feet. Walking quietly had become second nature to him and more than once it had saved his life. With a barely audible sigh, he lowered himself into the hot water, shuddering slightly as it first burned then loosened his muscles, preparing him for what lay ahead.

He closed his eyes, inhaled her scent, and allowed his thoughts to drift.

Tonight could be the night he found the peace he craved by gleefully slaughtering that bastard and bathing in his blood.

It always came down to his maker and the blood. Both tasted of regret and salvation. The blood and Balthazar were all he craved, hated and feared.

He remembered his first taste, as her blood spurted wetly from her neck, her eyes going wide in pain and fear before they began to glaze over in death. He remembered the tearing at his own throat, his own screams and how sweet Balthazar tasted. How he’d begged for more.

The discreet beeping at his wrist pulled him from his circling thoughts. He had wasted enough time pampering his flesh. It was time to go to work. He rose from the tepid waters, his hair flowing down his body like dark silken waves, clinging to his muscled flesh as he stepped from the tub.

Heedless of the water that splashed the floor, he grabbed a large bath sheet from a rack and wrapped up his dripping hair, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon followed him as he moved. Vanilla was a comforting smell, but also one of remembrance. He would remember always how she delighted in its scent, how after days, she smelled like candy and rot.

He spun around to exit the bath, the smooth pale scars that scored his back catching the light from his bedroom. He’d worked hard so no scar tissue would hinder his movements, worked for years to make the scars soft and supple as the rest of his dark skin.

His eyes were a strange combination of green and gold that constantly warred for supremacy. It had a way of unnerving people, those swirls of green and gold, and that suited him just fine. He wanted to unnerve people, to make them back off with only a stare.

“Thank God gender-fuck is in,” he muttered, as he stopped in front of an expansive wardrobe. With his delicate features and a few strokes of a makeup brush, he could easily make himself look ultra-fem, though his masculine jaw line and the way he moved marked him unmistakably as male.

He tugged the towel away from his hair, tossed back the chin-length bangs that framed the front of his face, and whipped the long mass back over his shoulder.

Quickly he fashioned a long braid with the still slightly damp knee-length hair. He left the fringe to frame his face, making it easy to shake over his eyes and hide his face from scrutiny. He tied a small chain of bells to the end of his braid. It didn’t matter that they tinkled lightly as they brushed against his bottom; he could make them silent when he chose but that sound would likely drive his intended target mad as he tried to discover where the light, joyful sound came from as he was stalked and menaced.

Sometimes, he thought ruefully, he was a bit like a cat, toying with its prey before moving in for the kill.

In the length of the braid he hid seven long metal points, thin enough to be hidden totally in his hair, but strong enough to bring death at a distance.

Tucking his fringe behind his almost too-delicate ears, he returned his attention to the closet.

He pulled a pair of butter soft snow white pants from their hanger. He would have to be careful of the blood. He really liked these pants and no matter how you scrubbed, blood always left reddish-brown stains on white leather.

Slowly he eased the pants up his legs, loving the feel as the leather instantly conformed to his skin. These pants were tight enough that underwear was all but impossible. The pants closed with a thin leather thong that laced across his tight abdomen, emphasizing the muscle definition there as well as exposing the thin line of soft dark hair that started just beneath his navel.

His boots were cross-tied with silver buckles, leaving spaces for the knives and pockets that easily fit beneath the straps. These boots were also made of leather and had very low heels, heels that could be twisted the right way to expose secret compartments that were extra security for a man in his position.

Digging deeper in his closet, he pulled out an embroidered black and red knee length tunic. The Oriental style cut of the tunic included a banded collar and shoulder fasteners of white roped silk. The silk garment was light and easy to maneuver.

After securing the inside and shoulder fasteners, he stepped back to examine himself in the mirror. He looked like a beautiful, androgynous, and sadistic wet dream– almost like his true self. Turning, he wrapped himself in a cloak before ghosting away from his lair. He walked softly into the night, the tinkling of the bells in his hair the only signal of his passing.

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.

Book Tour: No Flag by Liz Borino #LGBTQ #BDSM @ninestarpress @GoIndiMarketing

Title: No Flag

Series: After Everything, Book One

Author: Liz Borino

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/07/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 67100

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, family-drama, military, war, violence, terrorists, disabilities, amputee, bartender, Dom/sub relationship, domestic discipline, OCD

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Description

Captain Mike Kelley does not ignore his intuition, so when sexy bartender Will Hayes captures his heart, Mike embarks on a mission to win him over to a Domestic Discipline relationship. Will accepts with one caveat: Mike must promise not to renew his army contract.

Mike agrees, until the army invokes the stop-loss military policy to involuntarily extend his commission and send him back overseas, rendering him powerless and threatening everything he and Will have built. Will, left alone to cope with a new café, must rely on the support of old friends who may no longer be trustworthy.

A horrific terrorist attack on Mike’s outpost changes everything, leaving them both at a loss.

Mike awakens in a hospital with a devastating injury and no recollection of the attack. As the only survivor, his memory may be the key to national security. Mike struggles to cope with his injury and Will struggles with his new role in Mike’s life.

For Mike and Will, “No Flag” meant “come home alive.” Will has Mike back rather than a folded flag, but in the aftermath of war, can they rebuild the life they had before?

What Love Means to Me – Mike

If you asked me a few years ago, I would have said love was about protecting and guiding my partner. I had to steadfast, tough. Then I met Will, and for the first time in my life, I had the desire to compromise, to somewhat soften my need for control. Now, Will would tell you that ‘somewhat’ is doing a lot of work. But he’s not writing this. I am.

My definition changed again when I was deployed overseas despite my military contract ending. Love became the ability to stick with and remain devoted to someone, regardless of circumstances. I had promised him I wouldn’t have to leave, but Stop-Loss had other ideas. So, for five months, we lived in that love. It was the only time I had someone waiting for me at home, which made being there harder and easier. I had more of a drive to get home safely, but I also had to do my job well, to protect him and everyone. Or that’s what I told myself to keep sane.

Five months after I left, I came home without my left arm. Profoundly broken. I had to relearn how to take care of myself—eating, dressing, bathing, writing, opening a soda—things I never imagined would require two hands. How could I be the man Will fell in love with—the one he trusted to lead him—when I couldn’t so much as button a shirt? I didn’t know if I ever would be the same again.

The truth is I’m not. The trauma changed me. There are things I will never be able to do again, like fold laundry. And, yes, that’s on the list of things that bother me. It takes Will several tries to get it right sometimes, even when he’s trying… Anyway, love is knowing your partner will be there through everything. Love is trusting when you can’t see the other side. Love is vulnerability to each other and life.

After everything, Will trusts me to lead. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

Excerpt

No Flag
Liz Borino © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
The News

July 7, 2012

Bombs exploded on the evening news, one after the other. Body parts flew past the camera. The headline across the bottom of the screen read: “20 Army Intelligence Officers Dead.”

“Early this morning, a bomb exploded in the Army Intelligence building, killing twenty American soldiers from Platoon 518,” the blonde newswoman reported.

Will Kelley squinted as the fuzzy security images played behind the woman’s head, searching through the chaos for reassurance. Nothing. His heart pounded and he tried to swallow but found only dry air in his mouth and throat. The female reporter described the weapons used and structural damage done in vivid detail, which made for sensational television, but failed to answer any questions for the people at home. Victims’ families had to be notified before the media could release their names. So, Blondie would lose her job if she read the list in front of her.

“What the hell are you doing, man? We open in thirty minutes and you’re watching television?” Seth, his roommate, demanded from the doorway of the living room.

“Answered your own question, didn’t you?” Will responded.

“Are you ready?”

“No.” Will did not take his eyes off the screen. “I’ll drive myself.”

“When?”

The report flashed to an increase in allergies in children, so Will switched to another station while typing “Attack on American S2 Building in Afghanistan” into Google. It wouldn’t be that easy though. So, Will tried several more combinations of search terms before finding a video shot by an insurgent involved in the attack. The camera shuddered. Focused on different areas of the chaos. Men ripping clothes off soldiers. Looting. Bodies blown to bits. A man removing computer hard drives. And only one face. On the severed head of Major Evans.

“Will!” Seth jabbed him in the shoulder with a pen. Will forced his eyes away from the computer. “What happened?”

“Mike’s platoon was attacked. Twelve survivors.”

“Shit,” Seth said. “Can you call…?”

Will took a slug from the nearby water bottle. “Who? No one will talk to me. I’m not my husband’s family.”

Seth stared at him for a long moment and said, “I’ll have Casey cover for you.”

Will stood and shook his head. “Why? I can’t do anything here except watch the same videos over and over. May as well see if I can make some money.” He shut his computer and set it on the side table. “Meet you there. I won’t be too late. Promise.” He had to stop himself from scoffing as the meaningless word left his lips.

“Will…” Seth began.

“You wanted me to move, I’m moving! Go. I’ll be there.” He walked toward his bedroom, Seth’s gaze burning into his back. Stopping to throw a glance over his shoulder, he added, “Don’t tell Casey. I can do without her mother-henning me.”

“Will…”

“Please, Seth.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” Will climbed the steps and closed his bedroom door. He leaned against the wood cutting him off from the rest of the world. His gaze roamed the four walls decorated with art prints, a whiteboard, and his wedding picture. Will strode over and fingered the golden frame. Behind the glass lay a photograph of Will and Mike in tuxes in the middle of their first dance. Their smiles easily outshone the gold on the frame. Mike had always been handsome with broad, built shoulders and muscular pecs, leading to abs you could grate cheese on.

But none of that stood out to Will, not on their wedding day of the year before. Mike’s blue eyes radiated a strength and hope. Will removed his wedding band to read the promise inscribed: No Flag.

Please keep your promise, Mike, Will thought as he took a deep breath and tore himself away from the picture and the crushing memories it brought. He had a job to do tonight.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Liz Borino has been telling stories of varying truthfulness since she was a child. As an adult, she keeps the fiction on the page. She writes stories of human connection and intimacy, in all their forms. Her books feature flawed men who often risk everything for their love.

When Liz isn’t writing, she’s waking up early to edit, travel, and explore historic prisons and insane asylums—not (usually) all in one day. Liz lives in Philadelphia with her two cats.

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Forever Kisses Vol. 1 by NYT Bestseller Angela Knight #BDSM #darkfantasy @AngelaKnight

Forever Kiss: Valerie is haunted by dreams of a man she knows only as Cowboy, her seductive lover. But Cowboy is real. And he’s a vampire. Cade is the only one who can protect Valerie from Ridgemont, his Sire, and he’s determined to do just that — even if he must kidnap her to keep her safe.

Caught in a web of fear and passion, Valerie and Cade must learn to trust one another, even as Ridgemont stalks their every move. Their only hope of survival is the Forever Kiss.

Beth’s Kiss: Beth’s world comes crashing down when she’s kidnapped by Joaquin, a deadly immortal who means to use her in a plot to kill a pair of handsome vamps. Morgan and Garret are determined to avenge themselves against Joaquin, who murdered the woman they loved.

When they rescue Beth they must complete her transformation, saving her from the vampire virus raging through her system. But if Beth is to have a future with her two vampires, they must settle accounts with the ancient, powerful killer and his army of mercenaries.

Author’s Note: Forever Kiss was first published in 2004 and has been revised extensively, including added scenes and updated tech. I want to include a warning for those who might be triggered by the sexual assaults committed by the villains. I avoided going into detail and/or cut away from those scenes before they got truly horrific, but they’re certainly implied.

Get the paperback at Amazon

Prefer ebooks? Save 15% at Changeling Press!

SNEAK PEEK

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight
Excerpt from Forever Kiss

“I need you tonight.” His voice emerged from the darkness, a low male rumble of heat and hunger. “Will you give yourself to me?”

Valerie Chase sat up in her tumbled bed. The cowboy stood just outside the open French doors, watching her from the balcony as moonlight spilled around him. The brim of his white Stetson shadowed his face. It always had. She’d never seen his features clearly, not in all the years she’d dreamed of him.

His white cotton shirt stretched over broad shoulders and tucked into the worn jeans that hugged his long, muscled legs. Moonlight glinted on the star of a Texas Ranger pinned to his leather vest. He wore two gun belts crossed over lean hips, the holstered Colt revolvers forming a seductive frame for the thick, impressive ridge of his erection.

It was the way he’d always looked in her dreams, her cowboy fantasy, her dream lover. Her hero.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Angela Knight’s romance writing career began in 1996, when she realized her dream of romance publication with Red Sage’s Secrets anthology. She is a New York Times best-selling author of more than fifty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Time Hunters series. Her career spans twenty plus years, earning her a Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine 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 with Changeling Press LLC. She also teaches online writing courses with SavvyAuthors. In addition to 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.

Now in Paperback: The Wildling by Treva Harte #romanticsuspense #SciFiRomance @HarteTreva

In the uncivilized out-country known as Aridzone, Arness is the best at what she does. The wildlings she captures and domesticates worship her. In return she always matches her pets with doting, wealthy mistresses who reward hard work.

Arness loves her job… until the uncontrollable Adan enters her life. He insists he is a man, not a pet. Will Adan fall under her spell, or will Arness learn that submission can work both ways?

Get the paperback at:

Amazon or Barnes & Noble

ADULT EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Treva Harte

“Come along, my wildlings.” Since the words alone wouldn’t be enough for all of them, Arness whistled. Those who hesitated before, now moved forward at the sound. Even the newest captures had learned the meaning of her whistle.

“Not a bad lot.” Arness turned to Primary with a smile on her face. “A good thing, too, since they’ll be my year’s earnings, more or less. Would you like a nice new collar when we go into town?”

Primary touched the rather worn leather collar at his neck.

“Whatever you wish, Mistress.” Primary shot a sideways glance at her. “I’m partial to a deeper shade of blue.”

Before she could answer, he ran forward to yank at the chain of one of the faster wildlings.

“Slow there!” He snapped the command in his deepest voice. He spoke harshly, with none of the deference he paid to his mistress. “Keep in line.”

Arness mentally shook her head. She always had to remember the latent violence that existed in all these creatures — even in her wise Primary.

“Gentle! You’re yanking the chain too hard. The beast won’t be able to breathe!” Arness called. “Remember, he doesn’t understand all the word commands yet.”

“He’ll learn fast enough,” Primary growled, then lowered his gaze. “I know he’s capable of following orders. You’re too soft with them. They’ll take advantage.”

Arness actually shook her head this time. Primary had been trained to speak quite fluently, but sometimes he forgot not all wildlings had his abilities. Arness thought his conversation was quite a testament to her training, as well as his own intelligence. She might be partial, but she was also sure he was much further advanced than most pets. “Don’t remind me of who takes advantage of my generosity.” Arness kept her tone cold. “I gave you an order.”

Primary was perhaps a foot or more above her in height, but he looked stricken as he bowed his head. “Mistress.”

Arness wanted to sigh. Not even Primary agreed with her methods of dealing with wildlings. But how could she help it? All her wildlings were such beautiful, sleek creatures. They were a delight to look at, a pleasure to train. Perhaps Primary was right that she was over-gentle with them. But when you were camping in the out-country for months on end with nothing but half-wild beasts for company, you forgot they were chattel to be sold for a profit… unless you kept a few for your own entertainment.

Speaking of which –”Sec! Secondary!” Arness called.

Primary was hulking. Over the years his brown hair had developed a few strands of gray at the temples. She kept him for his endless strength, vast experience, and complete loyalty.

Secondary was just the opposite. He bounded to her side, all but wiggling with excitement. Arness laughed, just looking at his hopeful air. He was all youthful eagerness and expectation. She kept Secondary to amuse her.

“I suppose you are expecting a treat whenever I call, eh, my little pleasure glutton?” She hooked her little finger into the nipple ring he’d insisted upon during their last town visit and twisted slightly. “Have you been watching your half of my wildlings?”

Sec’s eyes half shut with delight at her touch. “Yesss,” he breathed out.

She swatted him on his rear. “Then keep watching,” she advised. “I don’t want to see you off seeking your own pleasure instead of doing your duty.”

Sec grinned at her before ducking his head obediently. “Of course, Mistress.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Treva Harte has always been an overachiever. She also collects things. First it was degrees. First a B.A. in English, then she decided to go back for a Master’s degree. Not content with that, she added a J.D. Since then she’s added a husband, also an attorney, and two children to her collection. She’s continuing her ways as an overachiever, writing her wonderfully offbeat tales of passion and possibilities — in her spare time.

Visit her website at www.trevaharte.com.

Black Widow (duet) by Lena Austin #BDSM #romanticsuspense @Lena_Austin

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to take BDSM lessons? Wonder no more. I’ll tell you.

The Black Widow: All Calder wants when he infiltrates the local BDSM community is a clinical, unprejudiced view of the world of BDSM. He isn’t counting on Kelly.

The infamous Dominatrix, The Black Widow, accepts a passionate challenge from this man who won’t submit. Their journey of discovery will lead into the depths of both their souls where dominance and submission have no meaning. But Calder must keep his assignment secret, or risk the bite of the Black Widow.

Spinnerette: Dante comes to Black Widow for Domination lessons, but that doesn’t mean he only gets to watch.

Available Today at Changeling Press

Preorder for July 23 at online booksellers

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2021 Lena Austin
Excerpt from Black Widow

“Hey, Calder, my man! Glad I caught you. Got a job I know you’re gonna love,” Ruben Grimes proclaimed, as he always did.

With a purely internal sigh, Calder said, “Yeah, yeah, Ruben. That’s what you said about the article I did for that parents’ magazine where I ended up on a Greyhound bus full of thirty screaming kids going to a theme park. My ears still haven’t recovered.” The article might have brought him money, but the cost to his nerves had hardly made it worth his while.

Still, he couldn’t help but like Ruben. The guy worked hard to find Calder steady jobs so he could pay the bills until his first novel sold. Calder had forgiven Ruben the day the check arrived. His disability pension didn’t cover enough, and he didn’t want to use Social Security. His pride wouldn’t let him until he had no other recourse.

“No, this time I’m positive it is right up your alley. That degree of yours is finally going to get some use. You hit the big time, my man! You may have hated that article in Parents Weekly, but your take on how theme parks can be healthy experiences caught the eye of an editor who happens to have kids.”

Ruben drew breath and launched into a spiel that actually had Calder grabbing a pen and notepad in a hurry. Calder couldn’t believe his ears. It was the big time, with a correspondingly huge payoff, if he could deliver. No deadline, and that alone was impressive. There was only one catch.

“No wonder they aren’t giving me a deadline date. Geez, Ruben, I don’t have a clue how to get involved in a BDSM society, much less penetrate its secrets,” Calder protested.

“That’s the trick, buddy. Look, an ex-cop with psych and sociology degrees has the best hope of getting in and writing that article. I sold you to them on this, and they agree. You gotta try. What have you got to lose?”

“My skin?” Calder suggested. “I have dire visions of losing precious flaps of epidermis I’d rather keep intact.”

“Tell you what, Calder. Do some research on the Web, read a couple of books on the subject, and get back to me.” Ruben disconnected, probably because he was afraid Calder would refuse.

Calder sighed, and opened up his browser.

A few hours, and more cups of coffee than his stomach could handle, later, Calder pushed back from his keyboard with a groan. His eyes burned, and his hand hurt from all the notes he’d made. The legal pad was full, and it had only been half-used when he’d started.

“Geeee-zus!” He rubbed his eyes. “This is like learning a whole fucking new language. Safe words, releases, equipment, and that’s just the start. Okay!” Calder pushed to his feet. “First things first. I’m going to make a monster sandwich, then I’m going to the library.”

The pickles had just hit the plate to complete a sandwich worthy of the Tower of Pisa when the cell rang for a second time. Ruben again.

“Pushy, aren’t you?” Calder said in lieu of a greeting. But he said it with a grin. “What, Mrs. Grimes wants another diamond or something that you call me twice in one day?” He bit into his sandwich.

Ruben chuckled. “I just figured you had enough time to log on and get intrigued. Was I right?”

Swallowing so he could laugh, Calder let loose a vulgar epithet. “Yeah, you got me. And I’m more than intrigued, you sneaky bastard. Though what the librarian is going to think when I ask for a book titled, Screw the Roses, Give Me the Thorns, I don’t know.” He contemplated the filthy looks he’d get as he swallowed another bite.

The snort over the phone was worthy of a thoroughbred. “You never can tell, bud. She might be a member of one of those clubs. It’s the quiet ones you gotta watch out for.”

“Ruben, you married a Broadway actress. You wouldn’t know quiet if it bit you in the ass.”

“So, can I say you accept?”

Calder finished his sandwich and let Ruben stew a minute. “Yeah, okay. Any way I can get an advance? This one may take some time.”

“Not likely, but I’ll see what I can do.” Ruben sounded thoughtful. “Tell you what. If you think it can happen this way, write me up a proposal and I’ll pitch it as a book as well as an article.”

“Deal.”

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?

Release Blitz: The Prince’s Vow by Iris Foxglove #fantasyromance #LGBTQ @irisfoxglove @GoIndiMarketing

Title: The Prince’s Vow

Series: Starian Cycle #3

Author: Iris Foxglove

Publisher: Belladonna Press

Release Date: 6/22/21

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 64,000

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, BDSM, AU

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Synopsis

Adrien de Guillory may be the heir to the throne of Staria, but no one in court believes that the submissive, meek-minded prince will ever be king. What they don’t know is that Adrien is hardly the meek, shy creature he pretends to be and that he has his own plans for the future. To see those plans through, Adrien embarks on a journey to Mislia, the land of his mother’s ancestors, to seek an answer to controlling his magic of foresight.

The one thing Adrien’s visions don’t predict is Isiodore de Mortain, his father’s confidante and the subject of Adrien’s long-standing, deeply embarrassing infatuation. Isiodore intercepts Adrien on his way to Mislia. But it’s too late to turn back—the two of them are now stranded on foreign soil, forced to rely on each other in order to get home in one piece. With Isiodore set on keeping Adrien safe and Adrien determined to become the most troublesome prince in Starian history, a storm is brewing over Mislia…one that will surely sweep both of them out into uncharted waters.

(The Prince’s Vow is an m/m dark fantasy novel, set in a fictional world where everyone is biologically either a dominant or a submissive and compelled to satisfy those urges. As such, the biological imperative kink in this story is pure fantasy, and not intended as a representation of real-life BDSM practices or dynamics.)

Excerpt

Adrien de Guillory, Crown Prince of Staria, stood on the docks of a smuggler’s haven and stared into the dark water swirling under his feet.

“She’s seaworthy,” said the Mislian behind him, shifting under a pile of netting as thick as a lady’s skirts. “All you need to do is whistle the right notes, and she’ll get you there.”

Adrien tore his gaze from the water. A small sailboat bobbed off the side of the dock, its dark gold sail rolled up in an ungainly mass, worn wood sloping to a cabin Adrien could probably fit into if he folded up his legs. There was always so much of Adrien. He tended to spill over the edge of wherever he happened to be, too lanky for polite company but too obvious to disappear.

“Does she have a name?” he asked.

“What? No. She’s just the boat. We don’t name our ships—it’s bad luck.” The Mislian worked swiftly over the ropes, mending cuts and frayed edges. But her fingers were black as ink, and her movements were jerky, mechanical. Her eyes were too black as well, dark pits without even a sliver of white around the edges, and Adrien wondered if his mother’s ancestors had looked like her, stained by magic.

“It won’t go away if you stare,” the Mislian said. For a smuggler who refused to give Adrien her name, she was remarkably chatty. “Trust me.”

“Oh.” Adrien turned back to the boat. “Sorry.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” she said. “Go to Mislia, I mean. Try somewhere nice, like Thalassa. Less trouble.”

“Aren’t you from Mislia, though?” Adrien asked.

“Yes. And now I’m in Staria,” the Mislian said. “Where your king has people like me killed. This was the preferable option, and that really should be all you need to know.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Adrien said. He shrugged his heavy bag off his shoulder and into the boat, which rocked slightly. The water stirred against the hull, and Adrien winced as he saw a face flicker across it, a boy with black eyes and a heavy robe, blinking hard. Then he was gone, and in his place was a woman with a loom, tearing the threads to pieces. A child in a snow bank, watching the clouds. His father, sitting on his throne with a cloak made of needles, blood rolling over his skin.

Adrien dragged his gaze away. His magic had been getting worse lately. He always saw it in water, glimpses of a future he didn’t always understand, faces in his water glass, dark forests spilling like ink over the surface of his bath. They were even starting to bleed into his dreams, pools of clear water with black-eyed Mislians drifting just beneath, watching him, evading his touch. But here Adrien was, about to sail into a sea of water, endless visions flickering like mirrored glass out of the corner of his eye.

He had to go. He wasn’t much use in Staria, even without the visions. His father’s council ignored him, certain that as soon as another dominant heir was named, Adrien would disappear to a country estate for the rest of his life. No one believed Adrien would ever be king, least of all Adrien himself, but he couldn’t just sit around and wait for his visions to consume him.

Mislia was the only option. His mother’s family came from there, and half of Adrien’s visions had been of a cold, lonely island full of people with slate-black eyes. Something was waiting for him there. Answers, hopefully. A way to make the visions stop.

He climbed into the boat. It rocked under him gently, and he reached up to touch the little mast.

“There’s a water distiller in the cabin,” the Mislian said. “Empty the bottom of it twice a day, and you won’t get sick. Whistle twice to unfurl the sail, three times to get to Mislia. If you want to go back, whistle once.”

Adrien whistled twice, and the ropes on the mast whirled to life, drawing up the golden sail. It startled a laugh out of him, and the Mislian smiled.

“That’s your magic?” he asked. “Are there many Mislians, like you? Sailors?”

“Used to be,” she said. “Not much anymore. The kind of demons who like the sea are forbidden, there.”

Adrien shivered. “You have one. A demon.”

“Sure.” She was still smiling, working on her nets. “Do you want to see? He has an old name, but he goes by Sam now. Hey, Sam. Come out and say hello.”

“Oh, no,” Adrien said. “I don’t really—”

The Mislian held her hands to her mouth, and Adrien’s flesh crawled as something uncoiled out of it, spilling over her hands and twining around her arm. It was a snake, black as her eyes and horned like a deer, and he raised his head to look at Adrien.

“He says hello,” the Mislian said. “He doesn’t speak out loud. Too small.” Sam whipped his head around to stare at her. “Well, you are,” she said.

“H-Hello, Sam,” Adrien said. “I really should get going.”

“Yeah, probably,” the Mislian said, stroking the snake under the chin. He shook out his antlers and glided up her arm, twisting about in her long, dark hair.

A faint breeze rolled over the docks, and Adrien stared out over the water, which flickered and glittered with patches of color, movement he couldn’t be sure was a vision or just a flash of the sun on a wave.

“Right,” he whispered. “Time to go.”

He whistled three times. The sail groaned as wind twisted around to fill it, and the boat pushed forward before it jerked roughly, still caught on the dock by a rope. The Mislian laughed.

“Wonderful,” Adrien muttered, leaning over the edge to untie the rope. As he did, the Mislian looked up and pushed aside her nets, staring down the docks and past the jagged slope of rock hiding the smuggler’s cove from view. She frowned, and her demon rustled in her hair, hissing faintly.

“Someone’s coming,” she said. “Were you followed?”

Adrien followed her gaze. A figure walked in the shadow of the rocks, broad-shouldered and dressed in the Starian royal uniform. “I thought I wasn’t.”

“Lovely.” The Mislian whispered something to her demon in another language, and the demon slithered back into her mouth, disappearing with the flick of a tail. Her eyes went wide, wider than any human eyes had a right to, and just as the figure at the other end of the dock broke into a run, she dove off the edge and into the dark water

“Wait!” Adrien fumbled with the ropes. “You can’t just leave me here!”

The ropes fell loose, and the wind caught the sail again, slowly dragging the boat through the water. Adrien fell back into the boat, whistling frantically. But the wind remained steady, and the boat trundled along, only a few paces away from the dock, well within reach.

On the dock, the figure burst out of the shadow and into the light of the midday sun, and Adrien grabbed the edge of the boat in horror.

“Adrien de Guillory,” said Isiodore de Mortain, Adrien’s father’s second in command. “What the hell have you done?”

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Meet the Author

Iris Foxglove is a shared pen name between two longtime fantasy readers who are committed to writing fun, escapist dark fantasy featuring decadent, kinky stories, intricate world building and unforgettable characters.

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Release Blitz: Kline Agency by Ana Raine #gayromance @AuthorAnaRaine @GoIndiMarketing

Title: Kline Agency

Series: Kline Agency #5

Author: Ana Raine

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: June 18, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male, Male/Male Menage

Length: 248

Genre: Romance, Contemporary Romance, Gay, Action Adventure, Multiple Partners

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Synopsis

Manhattan — urban center of metropolitan New York. Home of the Kline Agency, where a young man can earn his fortune — or find his love.

Chilled Champagne: Micah’s job as an escort is to be whatever his client wants him to be. But Daniel won’t stop exploring until he knows all Micah’s dangerous secrets.

Levi: Levi is content in his life as an escort at the Kline Agency — until he meets a new client, Wesley. Can Levi and Wesley escape their haunted pasts and learn to love — and trust — again?

Avery: Avery expects to work as an escort at the Kline Agency long enough to help fund his younger brother’s college tuition. A chance meeting with an artist changes everything. But Milo loses his sponsor, he can no longer afford Avery’s services, and Avery is forced to choose between a relationship with Milo or the rich clients of the Kline Agency.

Next To You: Twins Alexei and Vasily fulfilling fantasies for customers of the Kline Escort Agency. Kane was once Vasily’s lover, though Vasily doesn’t remember, due to a head injury sustained at the hands of the vicious Noch gang. As his memories slowly return, Vasily becomes determined to end their debt to the Noch Gang — a decision that may cost them all more than they’re willing to pay.

Excerpt

Copyright ©2021 Ana Raine
Excerpt from Chilled Champagne

Lance was staring at Micah, his toned arms crossed over broad pectorals. At forty-one, he was still handsome and built. Everyone around the Kline Agency knew he was called Loose because he used to put out for his clients. All of that had changed when he’d met the man who was now his lover.

Micah didn’t often hang out at the Kline Agency offices like some of the others did.

“How did it go?” Lance wrapped his arm around Micah’s still chilled shoulders and led him back to his office.

“Did Mr. Patrick have a complaint?” Micah asked hesitantly.

“Why would you say that?” Lance laughed, his eyebrows shooting upward.

“I wouldn’t put out,” Micah replied. He’d said this so often he barely blushed anymore.

Lance didn’t seem surprised. “I figured as much. All the same, he wants to know when he can see you again.”

“He called back already?”

“Yes. A few minutes ago.”

Micah felt his stomach doing a tug of war. He felt flattered he’d made such an impression, but at the same time, he wasn’t going to change his mind. Painfully, his cock kept captive in his pants reminded him how turned on he was. Flushed, he gathered his thoughts before speaking. “What does my schedule look like this week?”

“You’re open for tomorrow.” Lance glanced at his computer, clicking his mouse. “Then you have an appointment with a Mr. Hart.”

Micah was surprised. “I don’t remember Mr. Hart.”

“He’s new. Requested the most beautiful escort we have.”

Micah covered his laugh with a cough. “Didn’t he bother looking at the website?”

“Sounded like he decided to get an escort last minute,” Lance said, clicking some more. “He didn’t want to take the time to look through pictures.”

One thing Micah loved about The Kline Agency was that while most escort services posted full body shots and bios on their websites, Kline posted only profile shots, no faces. Potential clients had to register first. Full-face pictures only went out to email after Lance ran a background check. Micah couldn’t hide if his picture was blasted all over a high volume website.

Lance sighed. “Get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I’m tired.” Micah unclasped the hair clip. “Is Candace back yet?”

“She’s with her favorite client. But she said you could keep the clip. Something about how that color looks better in dark hair than red.”

Micah nodded, replacing the clip before grabbing his bag. He would change when he got home.

Candace’s hair clip stuck to the side of his head, pressed tightly because he’d worn a knit cap. His gloves had a hole in the right index finger, reminding him he had to buy a new pair before winter came and New York got seriously cold. The Kline Agency office was in a good part of the city. The streetlights were always working at every corner, and the cars lined up were clean without a scratch.

His studio was nice enough, considering how quickly he’d had to move and the funds he’d had available at the time. Unlocking the door, he kicked aside a pile of mail. He recognized letters from his mom, and his ex… they only brought back the terrible decisions he’d made.

Kisaki, a kitten he’d rescued, was waiting, rubbing his head affectionately against Micah’s leg. “Hey baby,” Micah cooed, dropping his bag on the table. “Hungry?” He held Kisaki with one hand while sifting through his cupboard for a fresh can of cat food. “I’m hungry too.”

The scent of wet food had barely hit Micah’s nostrils when he heard his phone buzzing from his bag. “Hello?”

There was a pause before a familiar voice made Micah cringe. “Don’t hang up this time.”

There was no way Micah was staying on the line. Breathing heavily, Micah slid to the floor, pressing the end button before resting on his side, one hand on Kisaki’s back as he lapped up his food. He’d have to get his number changed. Again.

The warm fur beneath his hand and then against his chest made Micah’s throat tighten. He was too tired to stay awake. And he definitely didn’t want to deal with the phone call. His ex was supposed to stay in his past. If he found him now, after four years, Micah was sure his strong resolve would crumble. And what was worse was that Micah didn’t think he’d get so lucky in his next attempt to run away.

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Meet the Author

Ana is still figuring out what she wants to do with her life, although social work seems to be the most likely. Her best friends are a box of chocolate and her kitten who always sit beside her while she writes. When Ana was in high school, she often wrote about the LGBT community, but now her work is less…innocent. Ana enjoys writing anything and everything, including BDSM, dragons, shifters, magic, and more.

Website | Twitter | Goodreads | Bookbub

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Rycks (Black Reign MC) by Marteeka Karland #mcromance #romanticsuspense @marteekakarland

Lyric: I’m in so much trouble. My orders are to find the highest-ranking member of Salvation’s Bane or Black Reign MCs and sleep with him. Worm my way into his bed so I can feed information to Kiss of Death. Little did I know I would find the one man I could never forget — the man who broke my heart six years ago and left me to fend for myself against a ruthless club who will break me the first chance they get.

Rycks: Lyric ran out on me six years ago. Not that I’d given her any reason to stay. The second I see her again, I want to punish her. She waltzes back into my life with an agenda I can’t figure out. When I do, the truth is as scary as it is infuriating. Lyric is my torment. She’s sent to me as bait in a bigger plan I can’t fathom. Mainly because I’m too distracted by what she reveals. Now I’m questioning my loyalties to both her and my mentor, El Diablo. She pulls at my need to protect at the same time she might just prove herself to be a traitor.

WARNING: Violence, explicit language, and adult situations. Rycks is the first book in the Black Reign series. While you can read Rycks as a stand-alone book, you may better understand the characters and situations if you have read books in the Bones MC and Salvation’s Bane MC series.

Preorder for June 25th

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland

Rycks

If there was a benefit of Black Reign joining with Salvation’s Bane, it had to be Topaz. The girl could fucking suck dick like a Hoover vacuum cleaner. I might not indulge often, but at parties, I enjoyed watching all the hedonistic dancing and fucking from a distance. It was even more pleasant while getting sucked off.

Topaz always made herself available to me, though she wasn’t my first choice of girls. I rarely refused her, mostly because of that talented mouth. Even though I thoroughly enjoyed her blow jobs, it was a means to an end. Eventually, I’d let her take me over the edge. Sometimes, she pulled out, letting me come on her face. Other times, her tits. Recently, she’d started swallowing me down, and I knew it was time to move on. I was many things, few of them good, but I’d never led a woman on. Good as she was, I didn’t want Topaz. Not like that.

“See you’re makin’ yourself at home.” Thorn, the president of Salvation’s Bane, chuckled at me. “Enjoying the party?”

“Bane always throws a bitchin’ party,” I acknowledged. I sat with Topaz kneeling before me. My arms were thrown over the back of the loveseat, resting as I watched her. Sometimes I watched her swallowing me — which was erotic as hell. Other times I watched the people in the room. Rarely was there a woman who wasn’t topless or walking around naked. Some of them were in various stages of sex with one or more men. As parties went, this was decent.

“Any word on our rat problem?”

“Making progress. I gave Ripper the latest when I got here. He’s going through it now.” Topaz looked up at me, all wide-eyed as she sucked my cock. It would be easy to just lean my head back and let her take over, but I had shit to tell Thorn. “Got some really good tips. Someone unwilling to risk coming to us directly, so he says, but so far the information has panned out. I think this lead is legit.”

“Any idea who your informant is?”

“No, but he says he’s close to finding the mole. I believe he’s working both sides, or at least has an in to Kiss of Death. He knows too many details.”

“Good. We’ve got more than one being watched already. One I’m pretty sure is working for drugs. The other is still up in the air with means and motive.”

“I take it the opportunity’s there?”

“Many times over.”

I glanced down at Topaz. “Fuck, that feels good,” I muttered. She grinned around my cock and worked all the harder on me. Her fingers dug into my thighs as she took as much of me down her throat as she could. I felt her muscles working around my member, trying to milk me of my cum.

“We’ll meet later in the night, Rycks. Let Ripper work over the information you have, and he can give us a full report.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I bit out. I was seriously close to the edge and wanted to hold off. Felt too fucking good to stop now. “Give Lucy my best. I know the pregnancy has been hard on her. If she needs anything I can help with, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Thorn grunted at me. The offer was genuine, but Thorn would never take me up on it unless it was life or death and no one else could help him. He wouldn’t pass it on to Lucy either. At least, not the offer. I didn’t take it personally. We might be loose allies currently, but we were still an outside club, and alliances could change.

When Thorn moved on, I let my gaze quarter the room. Sex everywhere I looked. Even one BDSM scene was happening. The crack of a whip on skin followed by a decidedly feminine cry was sexy as fuck. I thought about asking Topaz if she’d let me scene with her, but it would only have been a halfhearted attempt. She just wasn’t the girl for me.

So why wasn’t I out there looking for my own woman? Or at least a woman I could spend some quality time with? One I could safely fuck every night and not worry about her getting emotionally attached?

That put a damper on my erection. I didn’t go soft, but it took the edge off. I wasn’t out there looking for a woman because women never stayed in my life. They found someone else. Or they died. While I couldn’t lay blame on the former, the latter was my own damned fault. If I couldn’t protect my own woman, I didn’t deserve one.

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.

Find Marteeka Online: Website | Facebook | BookBub

Release Blitz: Love, Blood, and Sanctuary #LGBTQ #paranormalromance @megan_hart @fionazedde @GoIndiMarketing @ninestarpress

Title: Love, Blood, and Sanctuary

Author: Brenda Murphy, Megan Hart, Fiona Zedde

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/07/2021

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 95800

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, romance, paranormal, BDSM, lesbian, demon, blood magic, D/s relationship, sex club, spirit, witch, hemomancer, Rosh Hashanah, established couple, reunited, demi-goddess

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Description

Haunted? Hunted? When you need a safe place from disaster, heartbreak, or gods trying to break you and drain your blood… come to Sanctuary. It’s New York’s most exclusive club for magical beings and the backdrop of three sexy stories from three award winning authors.

We Choose to Be by Megan Hart
Love is in the air…and the blood. When hemomancer Hadassah meets the woman of her dreams, she has no idea that Yael is actually a blood demon. Is it only the draw of Hadassah’s talents that brings Yael into her bed? Or is there something more. Something that could last. What is love, after all, unless it’s bound by blood?

Sanguine Faith by Brenda Murphy
After a messy break-up leaves Laurel homeless and unemployed, she accepts her great-uncle’s offer of a townhouse and a job. When a seductive spirit trapped in the town house offers Laurel a means of escaping the life her uncle has planned for her, she learns that free does not mean without cost.

Promises Made by Starlight by Fiona Zedde
Abandoned by her wife years before and left devastated, Izzy has recently lost nearly everything else. Her credit is abysmal, she’s underemployed, and her successful best friend treats her like a charity case. But when her wife reappears, breaking her heart all over again, Izzy finds that not everything is as it seems. Blood gods walk the earth, and the one she once welcomed into her bed is back—ready to reclaim what’s hers.

Excerpt

Love, Blood, and Sanctuary
Brenda Murphy, Megan Hart, Fiona Zedde © 2021
All Rights Reserved

From Sanguine Faith

The rap on the car window rattled the glass. Laurel started and slammed her knee into the steering wheel. She cursed softly as she jabbed the window control button. The demon was dressed as a policeman. He wore dark glasses and his beefy hands rested on his thick duty belt nestled between the pepper spray canister and his pistol holster. A slight glow from a pouch near his hip was the only clue to his true identity. Huffing out her frustration at the window’s lack of response, Laurel shoved open the car door.

“You okay?” The officer leaned closer and peered into her face. His feet were squarely inside the circle of salt Laurel had spread around the car the night before.

“Yeah.” Laurel cleared her throat. “I’m okay.”

“You can’t sleep here.” He gestured to the street lined with ancient brownstone townhouses and graffiti covered buildings. “It’s not safe.”

“I’m sorry—” Laurel wiped her hand over her face and squinted at the officer’s name badge. “—Officer Sullivan, is it? I worked a late shift and didn’t feel safe driving anymore. I pulled over here to catch a nap.”

“Stow it. I passed this way last evening, and you were parked here. Your car hasn’t moved.” He leaned closer and removed his sunglasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. “I know your uncle.”

“Great-uncle.” Laurel stared at his face and inhaled sharply. His eyes were light gray rimmed with red, her image mirrored in their shallow depths. His practiced glare was that of an experienced centurion. Laurel shivered under Sullivan’s gaze, unable to look away from the magical enforcer. He was bound to her clan, sworn to serve and protect. Loyal to a fault, willing to die for the family. Her great-uncle had a legion of centurions, all more than willing to aid and abet his less than legal business dealings.

“Is that so? Why are you here? What do you want?” Laurel pressed her lips together and rolled the hem of her shirt between her fingers.

Officer Sullivan leaned down and spoke softly. “You’re royalty in our world, Laurel. He know you’re sleeping in your car?” His melodious tones seeped into her body as he used the old language, the language of secrets, curses, spells, and death.

Laurel suppressed her shudder. “My roommate kicked me out.” She scrubbed her hand over her face in an attempt to hide the lie. “It was sudden.”

The centurion straightened and pursed his lips. He drummed the fingers of his hand on his holster. “All right, Laurel, if that’s how you want to play it. You need to discuss this with your great-uncle. If you don’t, I will. I don’t want to find you sleeping in your car again.” He tilted his head. “You may not have inherited your family’s abilities but you’re still family. We take care of our own. I can’t spend my nights watching you sleep, keeping watch for the Orions.”

Laurel gripped her keys tightly. Orions. The hunters. So many missing. So many gone in the blink of an eye, their bloodless and mutilated bodies found months or years later. Or worse found still smoldering, their mouths open in voiceless screams. She had taken a chance last night, but after walking in on her girlfriend eyebrows deep between their neighbor’s legs she had stuffed her car full of what it would hold and fled.

“I’ll be safe.” She lifted her shoulders and let them fall, straightening her posture before she settled her hands at nine and three on the steering wheel. “I’ll talk to him today.”

Officer Sullivan stepped back, smearing the salt of the circle she had spread around the car. He pointed at it, lifted his chin, and smirked. “Seriously? It doesn’t work unless you infuse it with energy.”

Laurel inserted the keys into the ignition. “I know.” She looked away from her feeble attempt to protect herself and his smirk. After snapping her seatbelt in place, she waved at him and closed the door. She banged her hand hard on the steering wheel when the telltale click-click-click of a dead battery echoed in the car. “Fuck me.”

Officer Sullivan opened her door. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift.”

Laurel chewed her lip as she looked down at her paint-stained black T-shirt and tatty jeans. “I can’t go like this.”

Officer Sullivan rapped on the top of the car. “Get out. Now. I don’t have all day to deal with you, Laurel. And it’s not worth my life to leave you here with a broken-down car.” He stepped back and crossed his thick arms. “Do I need to assist you in exiting the car?”

Laurel shivered. She had experienced a centurion’s assistance just once and the memory of it still woke her at night. She trembled and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “Let me grab my backpack.”

“Good choice.”

Laurel gathered the few things she didn’t want to leave in the car. After jamming her sketchbook next to her ancient laptop in her bag, she zipped the top closed and grabbed her hooded sweatshirt from the backseat before she exited the car.

“You hungry?”

“I’d really like coffee. I can’t talk to Great-uncle Marcus without some caffeine on board.”

“Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“Why’d you let me sleep there last night if you were just going to take me to my uncle today?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

Laurel glanced at Officer Sullivan walking beside her. “Thank you.”

“No problem. To serve and protect. Even if it’s from yourself.” He held the car door open, and she slid onto the cool leather seat. She settled her backpack between her feet and pulled on her black hooded sweatshirt. The car shifted to the side as Officer Sullivan entered and levered his bulk behind the wheel.

He waited until she had fastened her seatbelt before he started the car. Laurel’s gaze slid over the array of weapons lining the car. Magical weapons clipped into racks side by side with conventional firearms, their soft glow visible to Laurel.

Able to see magic, unable to wield her own power, the last female of a clan stretching back eons, unwilling to assume her role as clan leader and unwilling to produce an heir, Laurel chewed her lip as the car shot forward bringing her closer to her great-uncle’s house.

Laurel shifted in her seat and drummed her fingers on her knees. “You worked for my mom and dad, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

Laurel stared out of the window. A familiar ache settled in her chest. There were some things even magic couldn’t protect you from. The ratty buildings gave way to well-kept streets and high-rise buildings. The sidewalks were crowded with people scurrying to work and school.

“Do you think the humans ever get it? Like, do they know about us? Really get it? Other than the ones we make consorts?”

“Humans see what they want to see. If they ever understood how powerful supernaturals are, they would freak right the fuck out. And try to exterminate us. Again. All of us. Their unwillingness to see and believe is what keeps us safe.” He tapped the pistol on his belt. “And this.”

Laurel shuddered as the car slowed and stopped.

Officer Sullivan turned off the engine and preened in the rearview mirror a moment before he turned his head to face Laurel. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black. Unless it’s that dark roast crap. Then make it white as a virgin’s wedding dress.”

Officer Sullivan’s loud guffaw exploded in the quiet of the car. “You got it.” He left the car.

Laurel glanced at the tarnished Saint Christopher medal stuck to the car’s headliner and rolled her eyes. A group of humans rushed past, small children and their adults, animated and laughing, their voices muffled by the car window. The gentle ache in her heart blossomed into full-blown longing. Laurel blinked the grit of exhaustion from her eyes, leaned back against the headrest, and rehearsed the story she would spin for her great-uncle, hoping he would listen, knowing he would not.

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Meet the Authors

Brenda Murphy

Brenda Murphy (she/her) writes erotic romance. Her most recent novel, Double Six, is the 2020 Golden Crown Literary Society winner for Erotic Novels, and Knotted Legacy, the third book in the Rowan House series, made the 2018 The Lesbian Review’s Top 100 Vacation Reads list. You can catch her musings on writing, books, and living with wicked ADHD on her blog Writing While Distracted. She loves sideshows and tattoos and yes, those are her monkeys. When she is not loitering at her local library, she wrangles twins, one dog, and an unrepentant parrot

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. For a free short story, information on book signings, appearances, work in progress snippets, previews and sneak-peeks, sign up for my email list at: http://www.brendalmurphy.com/

https://www.facebook.com/brenda.murphy.75
https://www.instagram.com/quinbysideshow

Megan Hart

Megan Hart writes books. Some of them use bad words, but most of the other words are okay. Some of them hit bestseller lists and win awards and some don’t, but that’s the way it goes. She can’t live without music, the internet, or the ocean, but she and soda have achieved an amicable uncoupling. She loathes the feeling of corduroy or velvet, and modern art leaves her cold. She writes a little bit of everything from horror to romance, though she’s best known for writing steamy fiction that sometimes makes you cry.

Website: www.MeganHart.com
https://www.facebook.com/readinbed
https://twitter.com/megan_hart

Fiona Zedde

Fiona Zedde was born under the Jamaican sun but now makes her home in Spain. Since getting the writing bug, she’s published around thirty books and short stories, mostly about black queer romance, including the Lambda Literary Award finalists, Bliss and Every Dark Desire. Her novel Dangerous Pleasures received a Publishers Weekly starred review and was winner of an About.com Readers’ Choice Award for Best Lesbian Novel or Memoir.

At this very second, she’s probably writing another book, and it has 100 percent chance of having queer romance and queer women in it. Her pseudo-healthy obsessions are French pastries, English cars, and Jamaican food.

Website: www.fionazedde.com
http://www.facebook.com/fiona.zedde
http://www.twitter.com/fionazedde

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Playboys (box set) by Ana Raine #LGBTQ #contemporaryromance @AuthorAnaRaine

These playboys have everything they desire – except the love that will change their lives…
 
Garden of Silence: Oliver is a fifth generation gardener who works at the elite Haver House for Nathan Haver. Nathan’s son, infamous playboy Charles, inherits everything — including Oliver. Now Oliver must choose between Charles and Haver House…

Interpret: When Jacob steps out of the shadows, Pyotr knows he should run. Jacob is everything Pyotr wants in a master, but is his recklessness too much — or just enough?
Twisted: When Pip’s friends Max and Bentley come home from college, they both want more than just friendship. Pip starts to wonder if he really needs to choose at all.

Without You: Maxwell is kind, hardworking, loyal… and six years older than Bennett. When they met, Bennett was just a kid. But now Bennett’s an adult, with adult desires. And he’s waited long enough.

Publisher’s Note: Playboys (Box Set) contains the previously published novellas Garden of Silence, Interpret, Twisted, and Without You.

Get it at Changeling Press

Preorder for May 28th at online booksellers

Praise for Without You (Playboys 4)

“Scorching hot and quick, but deep. Max and Bennett are an interesting couple. Ana Raine writes them with sympathy and cunning… I couldn’t put this book down. I’m looking forward to more books in this series and to going back and reading the others before it. Grab a copy of Without You. You won’t be disappointed.”

— 4 Stars from Nymphaea, Long and Short Reviews

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ana is still figuring out what she wants to do with her life, although social work seems to be the most likely. Her best friends are a box of chocolate and her kitten who always sit beside her while she writes. When Ana was in high school, she often wrote about the LGBT community, but now her work is less…innocent. Ana enjoys writing anything and everything, including BDSM, dragons, shifters, magic, and more.