A Changeling for All Seasons Vol. 5 #BDSM #boxset #BBW #bisexual #holidayromance

A Changeling For All Seasons 5 (Changeling Seasons (ebook) 5)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Christmas Magic by Anne Kane: Tali hopes the Christmas Magic of the Sugarplum Ball is strong enough to get Jax into her bed.

Blitzened by Elizabeth Jewell: Christmas Eve rolls around, Nick gets a yen to kindle some holiday spirit in his human boyfriend’s heart

Emmy’s Wish by Ayla Ruse: Will this little Elf get the huge (male) present she wants?

Santa’s Treat by Camille Anthony: Plum’s been a very good girl, and the treat she wants is Santa.

Christmas Stalkings by Cassidy McKay: What’s a Christmas Elf to do when he wants to sex up the North Pole a bit? Make adult toys, of course!

Wrapped Around by Megan Slayer: Taygan’s going to make Luc’s holiday one he’ll never forget — complete with the real Santa, peppermints, and hot sex.

Stranded by Sean Michael: Can this threesome turn a Christmas disaster into a Christmas delight?

Santa’s Claws by Stephanie Burke: Santa’s going to see to it that his Elf and the naughty human to whom he’s bound have a very Merry Khristmas… or else.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

 

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Under and Over It by Megan Slayer #BDSM #GayRomance @MeganSlayer

Under and Over It

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox

 

Regan Finley’s photography makes the local music scene shine. He’s four months from his final exhibition and graduation. But instead of preparing for the party, he’s fretting about his exhibition theme — bondage and passion. There’s one person he wants to make his exhibition come to life, if he can convince his housemate to participate.

Camryn Tate plays the music that makes the young girls scream. He likes being a local rock hero. When he finds out what Regan wants for the exhibition, Cam has to make a decision. He can let Regan have his commanding way and get the pictures he needs for the exhibition, or he can walk away from the best roommate and friend he’s ever known… all because of a little ball of nylon rope.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or pre-order for November 8th at retailers

  

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Megan Slayer

“Have you come up with a theme for your final project?”

Regan jerked his attention to the sound of Camryn’s voice. “Excuse me?” They’d been housemates for almost six months and known each other for a year beyond that, but this was the first time Camryn had shown real interest in Regan’s artwork.

“I’ll use English.” Cam crooked one brow. “The big theatre show or whatever you all call it is in less than a month and half. What’s your theme or idea or the art term for project thingy?”

“It’s an exhibition at the Kline Gallery and yes, I’ve got a theme picked out. The title is still up in the air.” Regan held his breath for a beat. “Right now I’m going with Confined Obsession.” Well, that was part of the title, anyway.

Regan stared at Camryn with no idea what Camryn was thinking as he stared back with his drop-dead gorgeous green eyes. Regan stifled a groan. The guy could model professionally. Cam spent just enough time at the gym to be sculpted without getting too veiny, and he was one of those rare creatures who didn’t have a ton of body hair all over the place. Regan swore Camryn Tate was made for photography.

Too bad Cam never bothered to volunteer to be Regan’s model.

Instead of speaking, Camryn nibbled on the corner of his mouth, no doubt deep in thought. The longer he stayed silent, the more Regan’s skin crawled. He wasn’t totally sold on the project theme, but he didn’t have much choice. “Confine” sounded so harsh… he wanted something equally emotional, but better said.

“How do you suppose you’re going to show this confinement? I mean, it sounds like you’re talking about someone being in jail.” Camryn strummed his guitar, his fingers gliding over the strings to create a melody Regan had never heard before.

“It’s a working title.”

“That makes more sense.” Cam closed his eyes and nodded in slow motion, caught up in his new composition. “Did you have to submit a timeline or anything? I’ve got exactly five weeks to get the bones of my music comp project done. I’m stumped. I thought maybe if you had a plan, your hyper plotting would rub off on me. It worked at mid-terms.”

“Plotting?” Regan snickered. Here he’d thought no one recognized his latent OCD tendencies. Cam got him, as always. Regan stared at the computer screen. He felt a little better about his unspoken choice for the show. “Well, the plan was to show people in the midst of everyday activities but with the confinements and constraints put upon them by society. You know, like Cassidy and her son… Skylar with his suit and tie.” Me and my sexuality with a roommate who doesn’t know I want him for more than platonic reasons.

Yeah, there was no way in hell he’d throw that in. Camryn knew Regan was gay. Regan didn’t exactly keep his taste for men hidden. But Regan wasn’t interested in showing himself in the photographs — he’d worked too damn hard in the space of four years obtaining his photography degree to do a series of self-portraits. Besides, his internship at Rock Monthly wasn’t going to up and disappear because of his sexuality. Max and Skylar loved Regan’s take on capturing the musical community in photographic form. But the friendship with Cam might crumble if love were injected into the scene.

“Who’s going to be in the pictures? Sarah? Skylar? Cassidy might do it. Why don’t you ask Marcie — she’s hot for you.”

“They might do it, yes.” Not quite the way Regan had planned, but they might get involved. “I kinda had an idea who I wanted for the model, but Marcie isn’t on the list. She’s in love with you.”

“Yeah?” Camryn looked up from his guitar, still riffing the bouncy tune. “Well, I am hot, but she’s not my type. Too thin.” He bobbed his brows in time with the music. “Aren’t I so full of shit? Now for the model. Anyone I know?”

“Your ego certainly is intact.” Regan gathered his wits. If he didn’t just say what he wanted, the moment would pass. He swallowed hard. “You — I want you for the model.”

How wasn’t that a whisper? Shit. The declaration in the mirror had come out so much stronger when he’d practiced earlier that morning.

The strumming stopped, and the color bled from Cam’s face. His eyes widened, making Regan’s pulse skip about five beats. “You want me? I don’t know what to say.” He placed his hand on his heart in a dramatic fashion. “It’s all so sudden. I don’t have a speech planned.”

“Drama king.” Regan rolled his eyes. Hell, yes, he wanted Camryn, and not just for photographic purposes. When Camryn looked at Regan, his knees turned to jelly. He wanted those eyes fixated on him as he did devious things to Cam. Looking lovingly down at Regan while Cam swallowed him to the… oh, God. Regan needed to get out and get laid. He’d known lots of guys, both gay and straight, and as far as he knew, Cam wasn’t gay — just theatrical.

“Can I keep the guitar?”

Guitar? Regan forced himself to surface from the Cam-induced haze. “Sure.” For a while, anyway. What Regan had in mind didn’t include the instrument, but keeping it with Camryn had merit. “Actually, yeah, I do want you to have the guitar. I’ve got an amendment to my idea, and you playing will work perfectly. When’s your next gig?”

“Tomorrow night at the Barricade. I’m sitting in with the Taylor Rogers Band for the May Day Festival. Tony’s sick.”

“Score one for you.” The stage at the Barricade had the best lighting for photography. Reds, greens and blues all shimmering off the singer and players. Yes, that would be great. “I’ll be there.”

“You know, I’m excited. You never come see me play.” Camryn strummed the guitar once again. A smile built on the corner of his mouth. “I like it, so don’t wuss out.” Cam toyed with the tuning pegs. “And I know you’re going to get a huge head, but I’m kinda looking forward to being in your pictures. The folks in the music building think you’re the bomb.”

Regan sighed. He wanted to tell Cam not to fuck around with compliments, especially with the music people. At twenty-six, he was too damned old for empty flattery. Sure, Regan loved doing the photos — capturing the heat of the performance was what he lived for. But damn, he hated being on the hair trigger. Four months without even so much as a date sucked balls. Regan scooted back into the safety of the couch. If he kept his mouth shut, Camryn would never know how much Regan wanted him for more than a good headshot.

Camryn stood and stretched. “I’m cashing in. Tomorrow will be late enough. May Day is a blast but man, the night is long, and I want to look good in those pics.” He placed the guitar in its stand and raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in messy spikes. “Sleep and composition class tomorrow.” He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped in the doorway. “Have you — have you ever had a burst of creativity right when you really needed to crash?”

“That’s why I pull the all-nighters. Not because I have to turn the project in the next day. It’s the flow, the zone. Can’t knock it when it shows up.” Cam nodded, and a lock of his ebony hair slid over his forehead. “Yeah.” The smile grew. “Night.”

Once Camryn left the room, Regan covered his face in his hands. Creativity had walked in the door the moment he met Camryn down at the commissary. He probably wouldn’t have paid attention, but Camryn sat on the steps and sang that Queen song so loud, Regan couldn’t help but notice. Cam knew all the words, even when Freddie Mercury and the bass line garbled it. He didn’t shy away when Regan sat down, instead making room for him on the concrete step.

Regan sighed. The moment Cam stopped playing and smiled, he’d fallen head over heels. And Cam had no idea.

 

More from Megan at Changeling Press …

When she’s not writing the stories in her head, Megan Slayer can be found luxuriating in her hot tub with her two vampire Cabana boys, Luke and Jeremy. She has the tendency to run a tad too far with her muse, so she has to hide in the head of her alter ego, but the boys don’t seem to mind.

When she’s not obsessing over her whip collection, she can be found picking up her kidlet from school.

She enjoys writing in all genres, but writing about men in love suits her fancy best.

Megan can be found at https://www.facebook.com/theauthormeganslayer.

Big, Blooming, & Wild by Isabella Jordan, Michelle Hasker, and Tuesday Morrigan #BDSM #BBW #PNR #scifi #interraciallove #boxset #RomanceBooks

Big, Blooming & Wild! (Big, Blooming & Wild! Multi-Author 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

These trees have been waiting all their lives to find their women!

Suffering Sassafras by Michelle Hasker: When Gayle settles into her new home in the mountains in North Pennsylvania she meets two of the sexiest men she’s ever seen. These two have a sex appeal she can’t resist — until she stumbles upon them making love in their backyard.

Tied & Tempting by Tuesday Morrigan: Yahara does not do nature. As far as she is concerned, Central Park is all the green the world needs. Kauri does not like humans. They care nothing about the world that is their home. But he must mate. And with a human. Once he catches sight of the tall, dark-skinned full-figured woman that is Yahara, he decides humans aren’t so bad.

Two Fine for Pine by Isabella Jordan: Botans Charles and Christopher have found a wonderful home in Cana, Virginia. When Vanessa Arnault hits town, the twins know their woman has finally arrived — big, beautiful, and exotic. There’s just one problem. She has an idea for a signature line of puppy palaces and kitty condos for her affluent friends back in NY and Paris. Charles and Christopher must win her heart, and claim her as their mate, or risk being cut down and used to make a miniature Taj Mahal for her pet poodle Pierre.

Mulberrilicious by Michelle Hasker: Trisha lost her job due to the economy and her fiancé to a skinny chick. Now she’s moved to Missouri to be with her sister, where  she runs into the two handsome hunks who own a neighboring property. Both want her, and neither cares that she’s a BBW. What she doesn’t know is that they’re not what they seem to be. Oh, and they’re already lovers!

 

Get it NOW at Changeling Press

or preorder for October 4th at retailers

   

 

 

 

The Master Arrives by Julia Talbot #BDSM #romancebooks #NewRelease #LGBT @juliatalbot

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Kane loves his job waiting tables at Club Endless, but even though he’s a sub, he never dates the Doms from work. A bad relationship and a tendency to rush into things has left him cautious, which is why he’s so surprised at his reaction to Master Jess.

Jess is bored and a little jaded, thinking maybe he might let his membership to Club Endless lapse. Then he sees Kane in a whole new light, asking the young sub out on a date away from the club. Kane doesn’t want to rush into things, but they seem meant to be — if they can just get past Kane’s fear of picking the wrong man.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

 

or pre-order at retailers for September 27th

 

   

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Julia Talbot

Jessup Halliday felt… old. Far older than his thirty-six years.

The entry to Club Endless was still timeless black and chrome and the hostess who took his membership card was young and sleek in a black sequined sheath and heels. Her hose even had seams up the back, marching in a straight line. Perfect in every way.

He was a founding member of Club Endless, and while it had changed with the times, it was as amazing as it had been when it first opened, while managing to stay current.

So why was he feeling… jaded?

He sighed. Maybe he needed to let his membership go dormant for a while. Write it off as a contribution or something. Take a long vacation in Italy. He loved Rome. Or maybe the coast.

Mmm. Italy. Yes, that was just the ticket.

He knew he’d hit on the perfect idea after the hostess slid his membership card, then headed for the dining room.

“Good evening, Master Halliday.” The server, one of his favorites, led him to a table. “Italian tonight.”

“Yum. Northern or Southern?”

“You have several choices. Shall I tell you, or would you prefer to read the menu?” Kane held out his chair.

“Oh, I think you should tell me. I do love your voice.”

Kane blinked, then beamed at him. “Let me get your water, and I’ll be pleased to recite them.”

It amazed Jess, really, how little it took to make people happy. He needed to remember that, and stop wallowing in his ennui.

Kane was back in a flash, laying out his water and silverware, which was all polished impeccably. “There now. Are you ready, Sir?”

“I am.” He sat back, watching Kane’s mouth as he spoke,

“Very good. For primi, we have risotto al funghi, polenta with caramelized fennel and onions, or cacio e pepe. Do you need any ingredient lists?”

“Mmm, no. They all sound lovely.”

“They all smell amazing.” Kane chuckled. “For secondi, we have veal saltimbocca, bistecca Fiorentina, or baccala alla vicentina, served with an arugula salad and garlic toasts.”

So, rice with mushrooms, corn grits with fennel, or pasta with oil and pepper. Normally didn’t indulge in veal, so it was the steak or the salted cod cooked with milk and anchovies… Hmm. “I’ll have the risotto and the baccala, I think.”

“Brave! I haven’t been able to make myself try the fish.”

He tilted his head, almost certain he was being flirted with, which was new from Kane. “You’ll have to try mine.”

“Oh!” Kane blushed. “Thank you, Sir. Let me get that order in for you. Do you care for soup or grissini?”

“The breadsticks, please. I went without lunch today.” Suddenly the club seemed shinier. Not new, and not better than Italy, but he did like when a beautiful boy batted eyelashes at him. He truly did.

“Wine? There’s a lovely Chianti, or a pinot grigio.”

“The pinot grigio, I think, for the fish.”

“Right away.”

He didn’t bother to ask about the wines. Their sommelier, Grant, was something of a genius.

Jess closed his eyes, listening to the gentle clink of flatware on plates, the soft music that never managed to make anyone raise their voices to be heard over it. The murmur of conversation ran over him like water, the tables arranged so no voice ever carried too far or intruded on another table.

It was damnably lonely.

“Jess! Hey, buddy. Mind if I sit?” Deacon Calhoun stood next to his table when he opened his eyes, the big Dom looking very snazzy in gray slacks and a blue silk shirt.

“Not at all.” He liked Deacon very much. “No Geoff tonight?”

“He’s preparing for a scene. We’re giving a spanking demo tonight.”

“Ah. No dinner for him.”

“Exactly. He’s having some quiet time and some broth, but I want some red meat, I think.”

“By all means, then. I hear there’s steak Florentine.”

Deacon sank into a chair. “What little bird told you that?”

“Kane is on tonight.”

Head tilting, Deacon stared at him for long seconds. “Have you taken him as a lover recently?”

“What? No. No, in fact I was thinking of taking a hiatus, maybe a vacation. Paris. Rome. I feel… worn.”

“Oh.” Deacon sat back. “I’m sorry. Something about your expression when you mentioned Kane…”

“Master Deacon. How are you this evening?” Kane handed Deacon a menu. “Here are the specials tonight. May I bring you some water?”

“Please.” Deacon smiled at Kane, and was given a gentle curl of lips in return.

Huh. Maybe he was getting flirted with. Kane certainly didn’t offer to read the menu to Deacon.

“Be right back.” Kane gave him a smile that was completely different, and Jess couldn’t help but feel it deep in his belly.

He’d been so… disinterested in everything, and he couldn’t have imagined it would be someone so familiar to him who might spark that bit of desire. Not that Kane wasn’t lovely. He drew glances with his silver gilt hair and gray eyes, his form lithe, almost delicate. Men, and probably women, would write poetry about such a beautiful boy.

“You know he’s between Masters, right?”

 

More from Julia at Changeling Press …

Julia Talbot lives in the great Southwest, where she’s embraced hot and cold running rodeo, cowboys, and everything from meat and potatoes to the best Tex-Mex. A full time author, Julia believes everyone deserves a happy ending, so she writes about love without limits, where boys love boys, girls love girls, and boys and girls get together to get wild, especially when her crazy paranormal characters are involved.

Website: http://juliatalbot.com

Blog: http://caferisque.blogspot.com

 

 

Unknown Desires by Jax L. Kramer #BDSM #GayRomance #LGBT #NewAdult #secondeditions @changelingpress

Unknown Desires

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Contemporary, Gay, New Adult

 

The instant attraction Michael feels toward his new Dominant, Mr. Johns only grows stronger each day. Spending time together in the dungeon is always a fun, unique, and unpredictable experience. Only Mr. Johns can take him to places he’s never known existed. The pleasures of pain and the highs of sub-space were once unimaginable, but now Mr. Johns truly owns him body and soul.

For Michael the most startling emotion is the fear he feels when he’s earned a punishment. Although punishment is meant to be feared, Michael is more afraid of being dismissed. He’s certain each mistake is a step closer to being sent away. No punishment could ever hurt as much as Mr. Johns giving up on him.

Is it possible for Mr. Johns to have any real feelings for Michael, or is has Michael set himself up to be hurt worse than ever before?

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Jax L. Kramer

“Michael, come to me.”

Her voice has that silky tone that always sets my heart to pounding. Today is the day and I have no idea what to expect. I rise gracefully to my feet in one smooth motion as I’ve been taught. Standing straight with my shoulders back, my chest out and chin up, I walk directly to her, my eyes remaining straight ahead.

The man standing with her is taller than I am, about 6’3″. He’s built bigger than I am and I suspect he’s older than me though I’m nineteen so that isn’t a surprise. I can feel his eyes inspecting me.

My nerves are getting the best of me but I don’t move. I control my breathing and wait for my next command. Domme Shannon told me that she had found a male Dominate she believes I’m compatible to serve. I had been stunned and I’m not entirely comfortable with belonging to a man. My family wouldn’t ever accept it. But I’d requested that she find a Dominant she believes will be best for me, regardless of gender.

“Come, Michael,” Domme Shannon says, leading me from the small, sparsely decorated bedroom. She and the man walk casually in front of me, letting me get small glimpses of him. He’s muscular with dark brown hair the same shade as mine. He’s wearing an expensive suit but I can’t spend much time looking him over. I’m led into the office. They sit and I’m instructed to kneel on the floor beside the man.

“Michael Edwards, this is Mr. William Johns. He is looking for a long-term partner and I know that he can give you the guidance you need. Look him in the eyes and answer his questions,” she commands before turning the interview over to him.

Most Doms do not want eye contact. He’s different.

He is nice looking with a strong jaw line. His cologne is pleasant, smelling of some kind of spice. He looks over a folder in his hand, taking his time, letting me wait.

“Michael, most of your hard limits are things that I don’t do.” He pauses as he continues to read. “There are some things that you haven’t tried yet, you marked them as things you would be willing to have demanded of you. Is that correct?” He watches me closely.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer.

“If I demand something and you decide that you can’t tolerate it again, we can discuss changing it to a hard limit.”

This statement requires no reply but my stomach twists as I wonder what he’d like to demand from me. The room falls silent as he looks through the rest of my paperwork and places it back into my folder.

“You are looking for a full time placement and you are employed full time?” His voice is deep and gravelly. It has a sexy quality to it.

“Yes, Sir.”

“What type of work do you do?”

“I work for a construction company, Sir,” I reply. My nerves are increasing as this interview continues and I center myself again.

“If we decide to make this a long term partnership, will you be willing to quit your job?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer, but I feel conflicted about it. It’s a great job for someone without an education.

“You’re nineteen?”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply.

“Would you be willing to attend college?”

“Yes, Sir.” This is a surprise. I’d given up the idea of going to college.

“Good,” he says. “If I take you on as my submissive, my rules are not up for debate. I am very strict and trouble will not be tolerated. Punishments will be as severe as required and you knowingly agree to that?”

“Yes, Sir,” I answer. I need this from him and hope fills me unexpectedly. Until now I hadn’t realized how much I needed this. Why do I like the idea of being punished by this man? The idea that something might be wrong with me grows spontaneously.

He looks to Domme Shannon and nods.

“Michael, go wait in the hallway,” she commands.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answer.

I take a place far enough from the door to allow private conversation. I stand at parade rest with my feet at shoulder width apart, my arms behind my back. They come out of the office half an hour later.

“Michael, gather your belongings. You’ve been accepted into the service of Mr. Johns. Do not disgrace me. You will not be accepted back here if you mess up this opportunity. Understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answer quickly. “Thank you.”

“You’ve done well and you deserve this. Don’t keep your Dominant waiting.”

I walk briskly to my room and grab my bags. I’ve had them packed since I was told I had an interview today. I hadn’t known what to expect. Another trainee stated that most males are taken by women. I don’t know if that was at their choosing or not. I hadn’t set any such parameters on mine. I wasn’t told until today that a man had been found for me. My feelings, though conflicted, are happy if I’m honest about it.

Carrying my bags, I find Mr. Johns waiting by the door. “Come,” he says simply.

I follow him to a black SUV. Another man waits by the car and he opens the door for Mr. Johns before taking my bags. I wait as he opens the trunk and puts them inside. He then opens the other door for me.

Once in the back seat beside Mr. Johns I sit straight as I’ve been taught. The silence stretches and I begin to inspect my fingernails. It’s an old nervous habit. Mr. Johns’ hand covers mine, stopping my fidgeting. Electricity shoots through me and my breath catches.

“Look at me, boy,” he says and there is a subtle difference in his tone now, strong and demanding. “I expect eye contact unless I tell you otherwise, and no fidgeting or I’ll punish you.”

I meet his eyes for the second time. They are a deep blue and his dark brown hair has a slight curl to it. At a guess he’s in his early thirties. He looks a little like Liam Hemsworth, only more muscular. He is a handsome man.

“You will call me Sir or Mr. Johns. I will not repeat an order. You are to obey any command given immediately. I will give you a copy of the household rules when we get home. Failure to follow them will result in punishment whether you are aware of the rule or not. I suggest learning them quickly. I will add rules specific to you as I get to know you better. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he replies. “Do you have any questions?”

“Yes, Sir,” I answer. My voice sounds nervous even to me as I concentrate on not picking at my fingers. “I was wondering how I’m to pay for college if you want me to quit working?”

“I will pay for you to go to college,” he answers. “I want you to be well educated and you’re still a young man.”

“I’m not sure I would be comfortable with that, Sir,” I answer.

He nods. “You don’t need to be.”

My head is swimming. “I feel like a prostitute.”

“No, you’re not being paid for sex. I want you at home and I want you educated. It’s a win-win for us both. Don’t over think it. I’ll go over the classes with you and decide what will benefit my schedule.” He watches me silently for a few minutes. “I will not waste my time or yours if I feel this isn’t going to work out. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” I wonder what else this arrangement will entail…

 

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Find more titles by Jax L. Kramer at Changeling Press…

 

Jax L. Kramer grew up listening to tales told around the campfire under the stars with the hooting of an owl piercing the night. Jax now lives in Oklahoma and has a daughter, mother and sister who are supportive of the stories crafted by her. Now you’re invited to join the campfire circle. Hurry…it’s not polite to make the Storyteller wait!

 

 

Dragon in Training by Emily Carrington #BDSM #DarkFantasy #GayRomance #LGBT #shifters @changelingpress @CarringtonEmily

Dragon in Training (Dragon in Training 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy,
Dark Desire, Gay, Shapeshifters, Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures

 

Dragon Food: Something is hunting along the Gulf coast of Florida, and Mark Tavery is tasked with finding it. His expertise in dragons is his pride, but he can’t say the same about his romantic relationships. When he picks up a lamp during his investigation, he’s shocked at his instant attraction to, and all-consuming need for, the genie inside. Mark’s greatest desire is to have Luke in his life and in his bed, but giving in to the promise in Luke’s touch means Mark runs the risk of killing the genie he loves.

Dragon Fire: Luke is a genie with almost limitless power, but it does him no good when his lover, Mark, won’t let him have the two things he really wants: for Mark to rely on him as an equal partner during magical conflicts, and to be dominated in bed. Will Luke ever get the chance to prove that he can be both strong in the field and the perfect submissive in the sack?

Dragon’s Bane: Atlas, a genie-god with nearly limitless power, has one task. He must find the modern equivalent of Cerberus and kill it. He discovers the three-headed dog’s incarnation are three figures that surround his current master — Dan’s current lover, Reese, Mark, a water dragon and Reese’s obsession, and Luke, Mark’s genie. Mark and Luke find their memories are altered and untrustworthy. One thing is clear: Only their love for each other can save them — and everyone at SearchLight — from Atlas completing his terrible final task.

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington
Excerpt from Dragon Food

Being trapped in a lamp for twenty years at a time wasn’t as unpleasant as it sounded. Damn lonely but not unpleasant. Luke, like all genies, was able to make his prison a palace, and as long as he kept busy, each time of confinement went swiftly. He’d been alive for over ten centuries; what was a score of years?

This stint was almost done. He went to the covered clock that hung on the other side of the room, walking easily with the almost imperceptible rocking of the lamp under his feet. His last mistress, after getting what she most wanted, had tossed his prison over the side of a boat, and he’d been forced to go with it.

He brushed the clock’s velvet curtain aside so he could study the face. The hands read April 2004, and he nodded. Almost twenty years had passed. His lamp would be picked up soon. Goddess, God, or fate always made it so.

Luke grabbed his wrists and stretched upward, wincing at the satisfying series of pops that walked up his back. “About time.” He shot a glance at his bookshelves. “This time, I’ll bring back more books.” He leaned backward and rolled into a handstand. Facing away from the clock now, he headed for his closet. Its doors slid back, disclosing outfits that reflected the many centuries of his existence. His first-meeting wear would never be current, but that didn’t matter; peacock behavior was for mortals.

He laughed. “Says the man who keeps almost everything he wears in any century.” He curled down into a crouch, then stood, shedding both boxers and T-shirt with two fluid movements. “Maybe a traditional genie turban…” Brushing clothes this way and that on the closet’s bar, he didn’t at first feel the summoning tingle that started at the roots of his hair. “Or a business suit?”

The tingling spread down to his neck and then out to both hands. Luke scrabbled for his boxers. “Wait! I’m not ready!”

“Use your magic, stupid,” spoke up Benji’s voice. His maker was long gone, but his voice seemed to always come at the best and worst times.

He laughed again and started to think himself into a pair of swimming trunks, but the summoning tingle encompassed his whole body. Naked, his own powers frozen for the moment of transport, he was sucked out of the lamp.

Well, he was definitely going to make an impression. He grinned inside himself like a fully risen sun. Best case scenario, his new master would be blind, and thus his nudity wouldn’t matter.

Transport complete, the tingling feeling receded. Hovering above the water like a leaf in an updraft, Luke gazed down at the man who treaded water below him. His new master’s eyes were hidden by what Luke assumed was a newfangled version of the scuba mask his last mistress had worn on occasion. Dark brown hair like bittersweet chocolate made little plastered curls on his forehead and neck, and his face was lightly tanned.

“Put some clothes on!” Benji all but screamed, and Luke snapped his fingers.

Swimming trunks appeared. He sank into the water, cradling the lamp under one arm to keep it from floating away. In the same breath, he buried his magic within himself, rather like covering a neon pink and spiky-bad haircut with a hat. Any other magical beings within a hundred meters of him would know where and what he was, but those farther away would have no idea he was here unless they were seeking his magic-signature specifically. Partial anonymity would help him focus on only his master.

His magic safely hidden away, he smiled at said master. “Hello, Master. My name is Luke.” That hadn’t been his name when Benji had made him a genie; he’d adopted the new name some hundred fifty years ago. He swam forward a few strokes, surreptitiously checking out their surroundings. A mostly empty beach was visible in the middle distance. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought he might still be in the Gulf of Mexico, where his mistress had dropped him. The water was ocean-buoyant with salt, and calm. He hadn’t been summoned to save his master from drowning.

His master pushed up the mask, revealing blue eyes just a shade lighter than the water around them. He laughed, a deep, rough purr. “Whichever of my coworkers hired you, tell them you had me going for a minute, especially with the mirrors or whatever you used to appear naked in midair, but I’m not interested in any one-night stands.” He pulled the mask back down. “Oh, and tell them — whoever they are — that they don’t know my taste in men at all.” He struck out for shore.

That was the first frustrating part: convincing his new master that he was in possession of a genie. The second would come when Luke had to explain the rules. Well, soonest begun and all that.

Luke did another check of the beach. There were people there, but none of them seemed to be staring in their direction. They were alone out here in the water. He vanished, reappearing in midair before his master’s eyes. “Can you explain this?” He rolled over on his back, tipping his head back so he could look at the man in the water. “What’s your name, Master?” Not that it mattered. Masters and mistresses usually didn’t want you to use their name; it was just something to ask so the silence wouldn’t rush in. He hated silences. They were annoying.

“I’m Mark,” his master said. “Of SearchLight.”

Luke didn’t recognize that name, but it was apparently significant to his master.

“I don’t know how you’re doing this,” Mark said, “but there’s surely a trick of science involved.” He swam under Luke, who resisted the urge to roll over and keep him in view.

Mark passed his hands under Luke, not quite touching him.

He could feel the heat of those hands, and he wanted to move just enough to make the contact, however brief, skin to skin. Mark’s voice — steady like a professor’s but rough as if he used it as a weapon — called to all Luke had denied himself for far too long. This new master looked nothing like Jesse, but that somehow made Luke’s desire okay.

“Okay,” Mark said, “this is sophisticated.” He sounded intrigued. “What kind of technology?”

Luke turned over. “You’re a man of science?” Why couldn’t he run into someone who believed in anything and everything? No, that would be too easy.

“More or less.” Mark’s eyes shone like a mirage. Yes, he was intrigued. “Is this some new science?” His eyes flicked to Luke’s swim trunks. “You’re not hiding some kind of…” He shook his head, muttering, “Nothing’s that small, and this isn’t Star Trek.”

Not understanding the reference any more than he knew the meaning of SearchLight, Luke ignored it. If he had to know, he’d find out. “I promise, I’m not using any sort of scientific find to stay suspended up here.” He made his trunks disappear for a moment, waited until Mark’s jaw had dropped far enough and his cheeks had colored before poofing the trunks back into place. “See?” His gaze flicked down to the water, and he wondered if Mark was sporting an erection or if that was just the play of light on water.

“Yeah… I see.” Mark started for the beach again, tugging once, harshly, at his swim trunks. “Will you answer a question?” His voice was unsteady, but when he glanced over his shoulder, that gleam was still in his eyes.

Fighting the need to swim under Mark, maybe even touch him, Luke said, “Sure.” He sank back into the water and swam beside Mark. “You’re a little confused, right? Let me try to help. I’m a genie, and you rubbed my lamp.” He paused. Twenty years was too long to go without a tease or two. “Feel free to rub other things.”

His Private Dancer (The Jordan Brothers) by Megan Slayer #BDSM #DarkDesire #RomanceBooks #eroticbooks @changelingpress @MeganSlayer

His Private Dancer (The Jordan Brothers 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Contemporary, 2nd Chance Romance, Dark Desires

 

I want what I want, no question — even her.

Dashiell “Dash” Jordan runs the city of Shaker with an iron fist. Whatever he wants, he gets — except the woman he craves, who hasn’t been available. He’s waited long enough, and nothing will stop him, not even her bastard ex-husband or her con artist father. But once Dash sets his sights on her, will she allow herself to be owned, or will she walk away a second time?

Christy Lane never loved anyone the way she did Dash. She knew the danger of being with him, but she didn’t care. Then Dash left her. She tried to put her life back together, but that life included marriage to a perpetual cheater, being thrown out of her father’s church, and working in the only job she can get — stripping. Then Dash reappears. The memories of their life together rush back — the scenes, the passion and craving. She doesn’t want to be a plaything, but he’s offering her the world. Will she allow him to own her or end their second chance before she’s hurt again?

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Megan Slayer

“Did you see this?” Tate Moore strolled into the office. “Dash?” He threw the newspaper on Dash’s desk. “I have found you a wife.”

Dashiell Jordan moved his tablet out of the way and accepted the newspaper. He needed a lot of things in his life, but not a wife — at least not a random woman to be his wife. He wanted his high-school sweetheart.

“Sir, you need to see her.” Tate pointed to one of the photos. “I bet she’d be a good wife.”

He turned the paper around and scanned the images. None of the women was his girl. He wasn’t even sure which one Tate meant and didn’t care. He knew where his woman was and when the time was right, he’d bring her home. “Why would you pick this one?” The woman was pretty enough, but not right. Her hair was too dark, her eyes were brown, and the smile didn’t match the one he remembered. Besides, she was way too young. “No, thanks.”

“Sir, you’re too picky.” Tate folded his arms. “I get it. You want the right woman, but you’re lonely and I’m tired of women who claim they’ve been with you… they come around and insist they’re your girlfriend. They think they should live here.”

“At the club?” Dash laughed. No one outside of his circle of close associates knew where he lived. He brought lovers to the hotel. Never to his home.

“Remember Sasha? She keeps stopping here. She thinks you’re together,” Tate said.

“I never slept with her.” He’d given the woman money and a place to stay because he’d felt sorry for her, but he hadn’t been attracted to Sasha.

“But she is telling everyone within earshot that she’s your girl. She says she’s a kept woman,” Tate said. “You have to set the record straight.”

“Jesus.” Being notorious meant he drew a certain type of people into his orbit, but this was too much. “Pay her tab, get her a ride, and make sure she gets home.” He couldn’t push too hard — not in this instance. Sasha struck him as the type to use the courts to get what she wanted — money. If he danced around her a little more, she might get the message. If not, he had other ways of getting rid of her.

“Is that it?”

He glared at Tate. “Yes.”

“Yes, sir.” Tate left the office.

God damn it. He hated how he’d been turned into a commodity. Sasha and the others didn’t love him. They loved the money and status he brought. They wanted the relative fame of being associated with him. They’d never be able to handle the danger or stress of his life. They’d want him to settle down and create a family. Not going to happen.

He sighed. The woman he wanted wasn’t far away, and once the paperwork went through, he’d have her in his arms. He longed to kiss her — not stolen kisses or hidden embraces. Not playing games in the dark or under the threat of being caught, but having her on his arm for a night out. Once he had her, he’d never let Christy go. He’d found her, but refused to demand her to become his woman.

His phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts. He read the identification screen. Clint, his brother. He tapped the button to retrieve the call and set the phone to speaker.

“Yes?”

“I hear you’re looking at buying the building on the north side of the Copa Room,” Clint said. “The Sandborn building?”

“Yes, I want to expand.” He turned the paper over without really looking at it, then flattened the page. He noticed the photos of exotic dancers in an advertisement for one of the clubs. The girls weren’t his type of woman, but he appreciated beauty. Maybe this week she’d be one of the featured dancers.

“Well, they want two hundred thousand, but because it’s vacant, we can talk them down,” Clint said. “A hundred-fifty thousand is more reasonable.”

“Why, if you know what to do and can get the price down, aren’t you negotiating? Clint, I’m one of your only clients.” None of the dancers caught his fancy, but he kept looking. He’d found proof Christy was stripping in one of the clubs, but hadn’t come across her yet. “Well? You should be in the business with me. We should be a team.”

“Because I don’t want to live with the danger. I like being legitimate,” Clint said. “But I’m already negotiating. They’re coming down on the price, so stay tuned.”

“Danger isn’t the only thing I live with.” He doubted Clint got death threats or was shot at on a regular basis. He turned the page of the paper. A slew of ads for strip clubs decorated the space. He looked over the images of the dancers for the one he wanted. There she was, right where he’d expected her to be — Chastity Lane at the X-Caliber Club. Time to visit. “Do you know the X-Caliber Club?”

“Dash.” Clint groaned. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? And no, I don’t. I’ve never been to a strip club. Father made sure my handlers didn’t take me to one. Why?”

“I heard nothing past a hundred-fifty thousand. If you can get the deal going, do it,” Dash said. “I’ve gone to a couple clubs, but not the X-Caliber.” He remembered how his father sheltered Dash’s oldest brother. Their father wanted Clint to stay clean and be the face of the family. Good for public relations, but bad because the family had never left the nightclub business. Clint had a head for real estate, but not running the string of entertainment hotspots.

“Who is she?” Clint asked. “I know it’s a chick.”

“Would you believe me if I said I found Christy?”