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.

Twitter | Goodreads | eMail

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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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Changeling Press LLC | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes

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.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

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

Giveaway

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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.

Wake Me by Angela Knight #darkfantasy #bdsm @AngelaKnight

Wedding Photographer Chloe Hart has just been dumped when she receives a mysterious gift — a painting of a handsome knight in a heavy gold frame worked with what appear to be magical sigils. She promptly hangs the painting up in place of her cheating ex-boyfriend’s portrait.

That night, she has the most delicious dream of Lord Radolf of Varik, the medieval conqueror who has just seized her castle. He seduces her in a red-hot encounter that makes her forget all about ol’ what’s his name. The next night, Radolf is back, this time as the captain of a pirate ship. Night after night, Radolf and Chloe act out some deliciously erotic scene from her favorite guilty-pleasure romance novels. And every single dream seems utterly real, down to the last scent and taste.

What Chloe doesn’t realize is that what’s all fun and games for her is desperately serious for Radolf. He’s been a prisoner for eight hundred years in the castle of a witch, and he can’t escape until he can find a woman who cares enough to free him. Is Chloe that woman?

Even as the two begin to fall in love, a new and horrible fear grips Radolf: what will the witch do to Chloe?

Get it today at Changeling Press

Preorder for May 14th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight

Chloe Hart eyed the newspaper with all the enthusiasm of a woman surveying a dentist’s chair before a root canal. “Don’t be a wuss, Chlo’,” she muttered to herself, and picked up the paper.

Gripping it like a club, she marched back into the house to the kitchen table, where a bracing cup of coffee and a Danish waited to fortify her for the coming ordeal. She tossed the paper on the table, plopped down in her chair, and picked up the mug. An incautious sip scalded the tip of her tongue.

At Chloe’s lisped obscenity, Rhett Butler looked up from his Tender Vittles with an inquiring “Meow?”

“Ignore me, Rhett,” she managed around her boiled tongue tip as she unfolded the newspaper with a series of grim snaps. “Just having a bad morning.”

Happy to comply, the muscular black tom settled back down over his bowl. Like his namesake, he frankly didn’t give a damn. But as she’d told her dog-loving buddy, Amanda Rice, there was something to be said for blunt feline honesty.

Chloe paged past a murder, a house fire, and a really spectacular pileup on I-26 to reach the account of her personal Waterloo. She found it on page four in section C.

The bride smiled her familiar grin from a dozen yards of tulle and seed pearls, clutching a bouquet of white roses that cascaded to her silk-covered knees. Chloe could almost hear her mother sniff that a woman with three kids had no business in that much white. From a professional standpoint, she herself thought the composition was a little off; the tilt of the bride’s veiled head and the position of her flowers didn’t quite lead the eye in the proper flow.

“That’s what you get for using a cheap photographer, you backstabbing bitch,” she muttered at the photo. “Then again, if I’d shot you, I wouldn’t have used a camera.”

Without bothering to read the description of the wedding — she wasn’t that big a masochist, thank you — she closed the newspaper and looked at Rhett. “As God is my witness,” she drawled in her best mock-Scarlett O’Hara growl, “I’ll never be a sucker again.”

Knuckles rattled the storm door. Chloe looked up in surprise. Amanda wouldn’t bother to knock, and she wasn’t expecting anybody else. “If that’s Debbie and Chris, stopping by to beg for forgiveness on the way to the honeymoon,” she told the cat as she got up to answer it, “You have my permission to attack.”

Rhett yawned and twisted around to lick his furry backside.

She looked back at him. “Or you can do that. Does express the general sentiment pretty well.”

Chloe opened the door to find a man in a familiar brown uniform, a huge box tucked awkwardly under one arm. “Delivery,” he said, and juggled his electronic clipboard into her hands.

She took it and signed her name in the window, eying the package. “Wonder who that’s from?”

He shrugged, supremely indifferent. “Looks like a picture to me.”

It did have the right dimensions — four feet across and more than a yard wide, but only three or four inches thick. Curiosity piqued, Chloe accepted the heavy parcel and hauled it inside as the delivery truck roared off. She tossed it down on the kitchen table and went in search of a pair of scissors to attack the packing tape. “If it’s a portrait of the bride and groom,” she told Rhett as she dug through the kitchen drawer, “your litter box is gonna get filled with little bits of photo paper.”

Ripping off a strip of the heavy brown cardboard, Chloe lifted her brows at the intriguing sight of bare, tanned chest and a tight male nipple. “I take it back, Rhett,” she murmured. “Somehow I don’t think this is going in the litter box.”

Ten minutes later, the box lay ruthlessly demolished on the floor, and the oil painting it had contained stood propped on the kitchen table.

Chloe stared reverently.

The knight sprawled in sleep across a tumble of rich sable fur, one hand resting on the jeweled hilt of a sword. It looked as if he’d stripped and fallen asleep after a battle.

He was a big, blond Viking of a man, his hair cropped short, a neat beard framing his lush sinner’s mouth. His starkly handsome face looked as though it had been carved by God’s own chisel, but if so, He’d been in a hurry. There was something a bit crude and brutal in the angles of the knight’s cheekbones and big, square chin. Luckily, those features were balanced out by a regal Roman nose and thick blond brows. The whole effect was intensely masculine — and just a little intimidating.

So was the rest of him. He had the build of a man who’d spent his entire life swinging a blade in an era when losing could cost you your life. He’d cut it close a time or two; his brawny body was slashed here and there with scars that reminded Chloe of a tiger’s stripes.

“Really big hands, too,” she purred under her breath, eying his long fingers and broad palms. Unfortunately, one of the pelts lay across his hips in a pool of sable, preventing her from determining if the interesting bits lived up to those hands.

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. Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine gave her a Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for best erotic romance and best werewolf romance.

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

Naughty & Sweet by Megan Slayer #agegap #contemporaryromance @MeganSlayer

Kelly Fenn came to the Honey Dripper seeking what she thinks is an easy way to make cash to pay off a loan. Martin Malachi is the one man she never expected to find, let alone fall in love with.

Martin’s not looking for a girlfriend, but Kelly needs a job. When he suggests an offer Kelly can’t refuse, she’s got a choice to make. Will she risk her heart for a chance at forever with a man fifteen years her senior, or walk away?

Get it Now at Changeling Press

Preorder for April 30th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Megan Slayer

Martin sat at the desk counting the take from the night before. Lots of customers meant the club was busy and would hit the quota, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed counting the receipts. He should check the liquor levels in case they needed to order more. He needed to go through the pipeline and replenish the beer kegs, as well.

He hoped they’d have a decent night tonight, too. He liked seeing the club full. A busy club equaled brisk business and happy dancers.

A young woman walked into the foyer. He swept his gaze over her — fresh-faced, sweet, co-ed type — not the kind of girl who worked at the Honey Dripper. The exotic dancers tended to be on the jaded side.

Martin frowned. “Excuse me? Can I help you?” He shut the lid of his laptop.

“Hi.” The girl’s eyes widened. “I’d like to apply for a job.”

“A job? Here?” Her blue eyes captivated him, and were those freckles? Blood rushed to his dick. He had a thing for girl-next-door types. He wasn’t a fan of younger women, but something about this one spoke to him.

“Yes.” She rested her hands on the desk. “Please?”

She’d pulled her dark blonde hair into a ponytail and her T-shirt stretched across her ample bosom. Martin stifled a groan as she licked her lips. If the innocence she projected was an act, then she was damn good at it.

“Hello?” She waved her hand. “Sir?”

God, he’d love to hear her call his name or Sir in the bedroom. When she waved again, he blinked. “Huh?” Shit. He hadn’t been listening to her.

“I’d like to apply for a job.” She tapped the desk. “Here.”

“At the desk?” He needed to screw his head on straight. “Doing what?”

“Um…” She blushed, and her confidence seemed to vanish. “Dancing?”

“You know it’s nude dancing, right?” She didn’t strike him as the type to strip without a stiff drink and a double dare.

“I do.” Her blush deepened. “Sure. Yeah. I know.”

“You’re twenty-one, right?” He wasn’t above moving and selling illegal booze, but the Malachi family refused to hire anyone under the age of twenty-one.

“I am.” She withdrew her wallet from her bag. “Want to see?” She opened the case and produced her driver’s license. “There you go.”

He read the information, then shined the card under the special light. The holograms and embedded strip shimmered. If this was a fake, then it was the best fake he’d ever seen. The holograms were hard to counterfeit.

“What are you doing?” She frowned, knotting her pretty features together.

“Making sure it’s legit.” He handed the card back to her. “Kelly.” The name suited her.

“Yes.” She smiled. “Kelly Fenn.”

“You’re a college student?”

“Yes.” She put her license back in her wallet. “Do you want to see my student ID?”

“No.” He should talk to her in one of the offices, instead of the foyer. “Let me call Amanda over. She can cover the desk.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Whatever you’ve got to do.”

He tapped his phone, summoning the woman who normally manned the desk. He sent the text, then turned his attention to Kelly. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked. “I’m twenty-one, in my third year at Green College. I’m studying film history, and I’d like to get a position working with a museum or in the film industry cataloguing movies. Ideally, I want to work here in Cambridge in the little museum, creating digital and film content for the museum as well as cataloguing the films and clips in the archives.”

“Ah.” He gestured to Amanda, who’d just arrived. “I need you at the desk while I speak to this applicant.”

Amanda crooked her drawn-on eyebrow. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“What?” Kelly sighed. “If you can’t take me seriously, then I give up.”

“You’ll never work here with that attitude.” Amanda took her place behind the desk. “Good luck.”

Martin groaned. He liked Amanda, but not in a romantic way. Her sense of humor didn’t gel with his, and she tended to look at the world in a pessimistic manner. “Thank you.” He picked up the laptop and gestured to Kelly. “Ready?”

“Sure.” Kelly inched around the desk.

Amanda grabbed Martin’s arm.

“Hang on,” Martin said. He directed Kelly to the conference room. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He left her alone and returned to the desk. “Yes?”

Amanda rested her hands on her hips. The dress clung to her curves and showed too much cleavage, but she did her job and brought in customers. “What’s the deal?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “What’s your beef?”

“She’s young.”

“She is.” He knew and couldn’t do much about it, but most of the girls who danced at the club were under twenty-five.

“She’s not dancer material.”

“Nope.” He could’ve told her that when Kelly first walked into the building.

“Yet you’re wasting your time on her.” She crooked her eyebrow again. “What’s gotten into you?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

Author’s Website | Facebook | Instagram

Release Blitz: Caleb by Summer Stanton #ParanormalRomance #LGBTQ @EJBookPromos

Title: Caleb 
Series: Carnal Pleasures Series
Author: Summer Stanton
Genre: M/M/M/M, Paranormal, Fated Mates, BDSM, Romance
Release Date: March 11, 2021 

Caleb Knightly is a Professional submissive at Carnal Pleasures. After escaping a dangerous situation and reluctantly being turned into a Vampire, he is finally happy with his life. He doesn’t need, or want, anything else. Until fate decides to turn his world upside down—again.

Callum Rutters and Eli Dran have been together for an amazing sixty years. They love the time they spend playing together at Carnal Pleasures. Their complex relationship keeps things interesting and they couldn’t be happier. Until fate throws them into the path of someone they never knew they needed. Now, they have to convince Caleb that being bonded doesn’t mean he’ll lose his autonomy. Instead, he’ll gain a family, something he thought he lost a long time ago.

Just as the three men are beginning to find their footing and learning how they work as a three, Eli’s past returns to haunt him, and fate steps in once more. This time in the form of Lucian Drake, local Pack Alpha. Lucian doesn’t know what to make of the threesome, he just knows he wants more with them all, in whatever capacity they’ll allow.

However, Eli isn’t the only one facing danger and Lucian will have to fight, not just for the three men he is growing to love, but for the Pack he’s spent his life building and protecting.

Separately, the four men are vastly different, but together they have something extraordinary. It may not be conventional but it can be all theirs—if they can survive.

*The Carnal Pleasures series will be a mixture of various M/M and M/F pairings following the lives of the employees and patrons of the club. While this series has romantic elements, not all books will be romance. Due to language and explicit sexual interaction, it is recommended for readers 18 and up*

 

Goodreads Review – “There’s never a dull moment.”

Goodreads Review – “This book gives you everything you want in a book, the drama, the heat, the chemistry, the suspense and more…”

Goodreads Review – “This book is by far the best in the series”

 

Summer Stanton loves three things: books, coffee, and writing. After spending years dreaming about being a writer, she finally took the plunge.

She loves pushing her limits and writing about things that are close to her heart. She tries to put as much real-world stuff into her work but enjoys being creative and taking liberties when she can. Her books are full of love, family, and strong friendships and mostly have happy for now endings.

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Guest Post: Unmasked (box set) by Angela Knight #urbanfantasy #actionadventure @AngelaKnight

UNMASKING THE HEAT

By Angela Knight

I’ve always thought comics were sexy.

That may seem a little weird, until I tell you I discovered comics about the time I hit puberty. When I was twelve, my grandmother passed away, and my mother took me to a therapist. He had an enormous stack of Batman comic books in his lobby, and he gave them to me. I took them home, and I was hooked.

The Batman artist of my teenage years was Neal Adams, who made Batman look sexy and tormented — and basically naked as he chased Catwoman all over Gotham. One of my favorite Pinterest images recently is of Bats holding Catwoman with her whip wrapped around his throat. (Though the Batman of my imagination has always seemed more of a sonofabitch Dominant than anything else. It isn’t much of a stretch. That character is a bit of a bastard even in 1990’s cartoons.)

Years later, my first published work was in comics – a three-issue mini-series called Cycops about three cops with computers implants in their brains. I basically used the same idea in my Time Hunters series for Berkley Sensation. Like the Cycops, the Warlords had the abilities to draw on brief explosions of superhuman strength.

Power has always fascinated me. For one thing, I believe we have more of it than we think we do, something we often discover only when we’re backed into a corner.

That’s why I write the stories I do – about people waging desperate battle against evil for those they love. It’s only then they discover their inner superheroes, realizing they have more strength than they ever knew. We become our own superheroes only by being tested.

Besides, with great power come great sex!

Unmasked (Box Set)

Things get hot when heroes take off their masks — among other things!

Hero Sandwich: When Meg Jennings finds herself at the mercy of a pair of kinky heroes, she discovers keeping a wicked secret can be good, dirty fun.

Voodoo: Voodoo is tired of waiting for Lynx. Time to show him everything she can do with her psychic superpowers.

Taming Jack: Lark Anderson is determined to save Deputy Jack Ramsey — even if it means accepting an inhuman invader.

Natasha and the Android: When Natasha is kidnapped by an android supervillain who wants to find out why humans are so obsessed with sex, she realizes the dark side has a lot more going for it than she thought.

Masks & Mistletoe: From rescuing a ten-year-old from an evil Santa to celebrating a BDSM Christmas, superheroes Lock and Ultra explore discipline, dominance and the kinky way…

Publisher’s Note: Unmasked (Box Set) contains the previously published novellas Hero Sandwich, Voodoo, Taming Jack, Natasha and the Android, and Masks & Mistletoe.

Get it at Changeling Press

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight
Excerpt from Hero Sandwich

Meg Jennings stepped out onto the roof of her apartment building, her boots scraping on the concrete. Below, horns honked and an eighteen-wheeler growled in acceleration as a fire truck wailed its way down the street.

Restless, she strode to the roof’s edge. All around her, the lights of Manhattan glittered in the darkness as if the stars had showered down to earth. Meg stared downward, brooding.

She’d had no choice except to break it off with Richard tonight. Much as she loved him, she couldn’t keep tolerating his secrecy, his habit of disappearing, his evasiveness. She couldn’t even remember the last time they’d actually ended a date without him being called off by some mysterious phone call. Any explanation he’d bothered to give afterward always had the ring of a lie.

Meg had lived a double life long enough to recognize the signs in somebody else. She knew what she was doing in hers. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know what Richard was doing with his.

Maybe he was a hero, risking his life in the pursuit of justice. But there was something about Richard, something just a little bit dark, a little bit ruthless. That sounded more like villain than hero to Meg — and she wasn’t willing to go down that particular road again. She didn’t like where it led.

Even so, the expression on his handsome face when she’d told him it was over had stabbed into her soul. Pain and vulnerability were not emotions she associated with Richard Drake, billionaire captain of industry.

She’d found herself explaining. “I just can’t live with the lies anymore, Richard.”

A cool gleam of determination replaced the pain in those wolf-pale eyes. “We all have our secrets, Meg. And we all tell lies.” Then he’d walked out.

Now she glowered at the city below. We all have our secrets. What the hell did that mean?

With a huff, Meg stepped off the edge of the roof and into empty air. For an instant, she fell like a rock. Then the generators in her suit started pumping out lev-fields, and she rose slowly skyward like a soap bubble on the breeze.

Absently, she watched the traffic stream below her boots in a river of headlights. Was this what Richard meant? Did he know what she was? And would he tell anyone in that other life she suspected he led?

If he did, he might as well paint a target on her chest and declare open season. Too many pissed-off villains — and even a few heroes — had sworn to take revenge on Paparazzi for the photos she’d taken. If any of them ever found out who she was, she wouldn’t have a prayer.

It was hard to believe Richard would deliberately endanger her that way. But then, she didn’t really know him, did she? That was the whole problem.

Frowning, Meg stretched her body out in the air, letting the lev-fields cradle her in invisible lines of force. With one hand, she checked the bag attached to her equipment belt. Her camera gear was safely stowed, ready for the night’s adventures. Taking a deep breath, she slowly flexed her toes, triggering the acceleration controls in her boots. Instantly, she shot forward, propelled by the levitation fields rippling around her.

It was ironic, really. If her father hadn’t been such an adrenaline junkie, he could have been pulling in billions in patent proceeds. The American military would have paid a great deal for a suit that could both levitate its wearer and turn him invisible.

Unfortunately, exploiting his inventions had always held less appeal for Gerald Jennings than committing crimes as the supervillain Bankbuster. He and his partner Nightwolf had terrorized New York together, in between battles with superheroes like Cougar and Lynx. Which was why Gerald was doing fifty in Attica now instead of living the high life in Acapulco.

Meg was lucky she hadn’t gone down with him. When she’d turned fifteen, Nightwolf had lost a fight with Cougar and gone to jail. Her father hated working alone, so he gave her a lev-suit and forced her to become his sidekick, Sneak Thief. For the next two years, she’d lived in a constant state of terror as they used their suits in nighttime bank robberies.

Finally, Meg could take no more. She told her father she’d robbed her last bank. Enraged, Gerald beat her so badly, he had to take her to the hospital before he robbed the bank he’d targeted. Cougar and Lynx caught him that very night.

Bankbuster’s conviction freed Meg from her life of crime, but it also left her with a very big problem. Her mother was dead, and the money Gerald had left in an offshore bank wouldn’t last long. Though she was old enough to go out on her own by then, she had no way to support herself except minimum-wage jobs.

Meg briefly considered selling her own suit to the Army, but she didn’t know how it worked. Besides, admitting she had Sneak Thief’s costume wasn’t exactly a good move, given the charges hanging over her head. She had to find another way to make a living.

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. Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine gave her a Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for best erotic romance and best werewolf romance.

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