Angel Falls Volume 1 by Stephanie Burke #PNR #UrbanFantasy #interracial #gay #LGBT @changelingpress @Flashycat

Angel Falls Vol. 1 (Angel Falls 6)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Renee George
Genres/Themes: Box Set, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Bisexual and more,
Cougar, Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures, Gay, Interracial

 

With the town of Angel Falls, Maryland, on their side,
broken wings will learn to fly once more.

 

Most people avoid Angel Falls. They say it’s filled with crazy geeks and weirdoes. And they’re right. But Angel Falls has the best geeks and weirdoes anyone has ever met.

Broken Wings: Angel, foundling turned NFL star quarterback, and Klintic, a Fae warrior prince, have both been tested in the fires of torment and anguish and managed to survive to find each other. That the ex-footballer and the betrayed prince manage to discover each other is a miracle. With the town of Angel Falls on their side, broken wings will learn to fly once more.

Snake: Snake’s lived a good, long life and is comfortable doing tattoos and body modifications in her shop. But when young Ethan comes to her, he opens more than memories to her past. He unleashes a love she could never have anticipated. A May/December relationship will never work, but with a little magic and the secrets held in the town of Angel Falls, maybe together they can give love a second chance.

Sunspots: Bryan Adams finally has a date with the man of his dreams — Winston Macapthy, RN, descendant of a sun god and a caracal shifter to boot. Finally the geeks are going to come out on top. But if Bryan’s less-than-perfect physique doesn’t put off the handsome shifter, then kidnapping, torture, and running for their lives might.

Or it may just be another perfect weekend… perfect for the small Maryland town of Angel Falls.

Publisher’s Note: Angel Falls Vol. 1 contains the previously published novellas Broken Wings (M/M), Snake (M/F), and Sunspots (M/M).

 

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available in ebook and print

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Stephanie Burke
Excerpt from Broken Wings

“I’ll get back with you in a few days, Rich,” he finally said, cutting off his agent.

“Good.” Rich sighed, as if knowing Angel wasn’t invested in the conversation at all. “I’ll wait till I hear from you.”

“All right.” Angel started to disconnect the call, but Rich’s voice stopped him.

“There’s some reporter sniffing around about a ‘where are they now’ piece, Angel. I told him to fuck off, but I have a feeling he’s not going to give up so easily.”

Great, Angel thought, cursing mentally as he thought of being hounded once more by a media who felt they had a right to put his pain on display. Apparently the pseudonym hadn’t been enough to keep him under the radar. “Thanks for the heads up,” he nearly growled at the phone. “But I think I’m safe here.”

“It’s damn hard to find you in that twisted, crazy zone where you currently reside.” His agent laughed. “I’d keep my eye out just in case. The reporter’s name is Jonathon Greely.”

“Thanks, Rich. And goodbye.”

Angel disconnected the call and moved deeper into the woods. He braved the trails regularly in a bid to exercise his injured knee and clear his head.

It hadn’t been easy getting to the point where he could feel connected with life again, but the exercise and the fresh air helped, as did the acceptance of the people who lived here. They could care less about who he was or what had happened to him — they just accepted him as a shy recluse who fit into a town already half occupied by shy recluses.

It was great.

He was about to turn back home to stare at his computer screen again when he heard the screaming. It sounded like someone was stabbing a peacock with a pitchfork.

He turned toward the sound, his feet automatically moving him at a swift pace deeper into the woods, into a place he rarely visited. Before he reached its source, the screaming stopped.

“Damn,” he murmured, wondering what he would find when he got there. He had high hopes that whatever was attacking the poor creature had fled and that maybe the poor prey hadn’t died.

He’d just rounded a small copse of maple trees when he saw the body.

“Good God,” he gasped, looking around to see if whatever had savaged the poor man was still nearby.

And it was a man, wearing ripped pants and slashed boots. He was bare-chested save for a pair of ill-fitted costume wings attached to his back.

Moving around to the man’s head, Angel dropped to his knees and pulled what seemed like mountains of dyed hair out of his face, wondering what the green goo that covered him was. It was tacky, the consistency of drying paint, and it liberally splattered the poor man’s form.

But the man was breathing. When Angel pressed his fingers against his neck, he could feel the steady pulse beneath his soft, warm skin. The man wasn’t exactly pale. No, his skin tone was dusky with an olive tint. His body under the grime and fake wings was fit and muscular.

“Hey. Hey, buddy. Can you hear me?” Angel asked, tapping him on the face, not wanting to move him in case of injury. “Hey.”

He tapped the man again, looking around to find the cause of his injury. The ground wasn’t torn up as it would be if he’d been defending himself. The trees and even the grass in the small clearing remained undisturbed. Unless the man had been dropped out of a plane, Angel couldn’t see how he’d found his way onto his property wearing a set of wings…

“Wings,” he muttered, shaking his head. Maybe this was one of the citizens of Angel Falls. Maybe he was a geek who’d invented some kind of flying machine and had tried to test it, with disastrous results. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. A few years ago, an incident with a jet pack had torched a good half-acre of his land and the inventor, a fifteen-year-old boy who was way too young to be playing with jet fuel, broke a thumb on Angel’s property.

Angel reached for the wings and — “Damn it!” He quickly pulled his hand back as what felt like a hell of a lot of static electricity zapped his fingers.

Shaking his fingers, he again tried to get the man to respond. “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”

He was about to give up on waking his avian visitor to call 911 when the man’s eyelids fluttered.

“Yeah,” Angel encouraged, speaking a little louder. “That’s it, buddy. Come on and open those eyes for me –“

The injured man’s eyes fluttered once more and then blinked open. His eyes — the color was shocking Angel nearly jumped back before he realized the solid black had to be contact lenses.

Calling himself all kinds of a fool, he moved in closer. “Hey? Buddy?”

Cosxgrturve exzline gzlk,” the man gasped, his tongue twisting the incomprehensible words.

“Slurred speech.” Angel spoke to himself, already reaching for his cell. This looked like it might be serious —

Cosxgrturve kzilei jemanzr!” the man said, his voice steadier.

“Calm down, buddy –” Angel rested a hand on the man’s shoulder when he suddenly lurched as if to get up. “Hey!” But the man braced a hand on Angel’s shoulder and fought to rise.

Not wanting him to hurt himself more — brain injuries could be tricky, as his year in the NFL had taught him — Angel braced the man as he lurched to his feet. Suddenly he was looking up into a dark-eyed visage that was staring back at him.

The man was big, and for Angel to say that was telling. Angel himself stood at six feet seven inches tall, a formidable height for a quarterback, but this man — he had to be about a foot taller than Angel.

And as Angel stared, his mouth open in shock, his cell dangling unused from his hand, the man arched his back and the wings fluttered. Then, as Angel tried to figure out how the massive things were attached, there was a zap that felt like a milder form of that earlier static electricity, and the wings began to glow faintly…

More from Stephanie Burke at Changeling Press…

 

It’s in the Mix by Ayla Ruse #PNR #UrbanFantasy #RomanceBooks @changelingpress @AylaRuse

It's In The Mix (Wit & Wizardry Multi-Author 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Magic,
Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures

 

Mix 1 part narrow minded fairy with 1 part human bachelor:
get 2 parts love everlasting…

 

Asling is not happy to be tending bar in a human pub. Her fairy aunt predicted she’d find love by the next full moon, and that means she should be back in Ireland — not in the middle of Massachusetts.

Despite the happy married lives of his friends, Daniel is content to remain a bachelor. After all, the pretty new bartender may want to come home with him. Why spoil that with a relationship?

Something might have happened on its own, but a mischievous pub owner slips each of them a Wit & Wizardry brew known to contain a powerful love potion. Before either can say a word, Aisling and Daniel find themselves tumbling headlong into love.

Unfortunately, all is not happily ever after. Aisling does not want to love a human, and Daniel believes he’s unfairly pressured her into being with him. When the pair settle down to breathe, can they discover something deeper to bind them, or will daylight make the heady effects of a potioned brew fade away?

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Ayla Ruse

Dirv walked into the break room, looking down at his clipboard. A Russian leshy, Dirv ran the pub for the leprechaun Dunn brothers, owners of the Wit & Wizardry brewery. He was a tall, gnarled man of an indeterminate age, with long limbs and a nose to match. To see him grouchy meant he was having a good day, and she couldn’t imagine him being in love with anyone save the forests.

“I passed your sister, and the bar’s getting busy. Mitchell is ready for his break. You’d best get your winged ass out there.” He glanced up, and Aisling twisted her lips. “Don’t worry over the brews. I promised those trickster Dunns I wouldn’t sell them, and I won’t. Customs should come through tomorrow, then you can take it with you and begone.”

“That can’t come soon enough,” she muttered. Figured the man heard her.

“For me too. You think I appreciate my best bartender and waitress falling in love and running off, leaving me high and dry? It’s because of those blasted brews.” His bony hand pointed and shook toward the stacks of beer. “And you and your sister wouldn’t have to be working for me tonight. So don’t take it out on me, fairy. Take the blame out on those Dunns.”

Aisling had no idea why, but listening to the man rattle on, acting upset, amused her. He wasn’t truly mad, because he loved a good trick more than anyone else, but he also loved to gripe. “No problem, Dirv. I’ll head on out and tend bar for ya.”

* * *

Two hours later, Aisling had been asked her name so often she practically growled it out in answer. That or flat out ignored the question. She’d also been propositioned more than she had been in her entire life. She’d had to do her best not to gag whenever a human dared speak to her. All her senses were overloaded with smells of beer, food, human sweat, and the thick New England accent that jarred her ears. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it. Lena, her happy, peppy self, had checked on her a few times, for which Aisling was grateful, but her attention kept straying to the clock, counting down the minutes until she could take her own fifteen-minute break.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Aisling didn’t even bother looking up when the human leaned against the bar. She’d been hit on so often she mentally blocked all their talk. “What’cha be needing tonight?” she asked instead and swiped a damp cloth across the bar’s work surface.

She could have sworn he murmured the word, “you,” and her head shot up at that, but his warm smile told her she must have been mistaken. Once she looked up at him, though, she couldn’t look away. She should be disgusted at the mere presence of him, a human, but he had the perfect, classic dark Irish look — hair as black as the Hidden Fairy Caves, eyes as blue as the deepest reaches of the seaside springtime sky. To complete the package, even though he leaned against the bar, she knew when he stood straight he’d be tall and athletically lean. His face was chiseled, and he looked as if he’d fit in perfectly with the clans of old. For a brief second she even imagined him in a tartan. True, she didn’t care for humans, but she’d always loved the old stories of when fairy folk would interact openly with them. She would be the first to admit she’d not want those days back, but looking at him reminded her of the old lore, and she couldn’t help it. She sighed.

“Miss? Are you okay?” He grinned, and his deep voice shook her out of her musings.

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. You said you wanted… ?” She tried to focus. He gave her his order, but nothing registered because she was so caught up in simply listening to his voice.

“Did you get that?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh, um, forgive me.” She rubbed her temple as if she had a headache. The noise is getting to me, I think,” she lied and averted her eyes so she wouldn’t be looking at him. “Can you tell me again what you’d like?”

“Three house beers, please. I understand the Wit & Wizards aren’t available tonight?” He sounded amused, which both made her upset and made her blush. She didn’t like the dual feelings so she ignored both to focus on her temporary job.

She answered the man while pretending to work her cloth over a stubborn spot on the bar.

“You’d be right. There’s been a recall. It’s nothing bad. The taste was a little off. You know those Dunn Brothers. If something’s even a little off, they’re not happy.” Why was she rambling?

She stepped away to put distance between them and to pull the longnecks from the cooler below the bar.

“No, I don’t, actually,” he said.

“What?”

“The Dunn Brothers. I don’t know them. Who are they?”

“Well, they’re –” sniveling, slave-driving, demanding Leprechauns “– um, they’re the triplets what own the Wit & Wizardry Brewery.”

“Fascinating. I take it from your accent you know them well?”

“I work for them.”

“Wow. You’re straight from the source, so to speak. Being put to work here must be the very definition of excellent customer service.”

“Being put to work here is called punishment,” she muttered.

“How so? My name’s Daniel O’Hare, by the way.”

“Oh, never you mind. Nice to meet ya, Daniel.” She set the opened beers on the bar top at the same time as he reached for them. She allowed their hands to brush. Allowed because she’d kept a clear touching distance from the humans tonight. But with this man, something told her that she had to know what he felt like.

More from Ayla at Changeling Press…

 

Sky’s the Limit by Mychael Black #PNR#UrbanFantasy #GayRomance #LGBT @changelingpress @mychael_black

Ice and snow are cold. Ice dragons are definitely not!

 

Sky's The Limit (Wit & Wizardry Multi-Author 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures,
Gay, Second Edition, Shapeshifters

 

Despite his last name, Kelly Snow despises winter. He hates being cold and tromping through snow and ice. So, naturally, he’s called to inspect and catalogue a hermit’s vast library… in the mountains.

Dregan Stone has been around long enough to amass an enormous collection. Instead of gold and jewels, however, his hoard is made entirely of books — so many he’s lost track of what he actually has. He needs help getting his hoard organized, so a friend recommends a librarian.

Kelly and Dregan couldn’t be any more different, but neither man can deny the bizarre magnetic attraction between them. Dregan refuses to believe what it means, but that’s the least of his worries. What happens when Kelly discovers just what sort of man he’s working for?

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Mychael Black

“I hate snow.”

Kelly stared out his driver side window at the cold, wet blanket with which he shared a name. Autumn, spring, summer — any would do. But winter? No, thanks! He sighed and got out of the car, nose wrinkling when his boot sank into at least five inches of snow. The wind had stopped blowing, thank God, but he swore the temperature had fallen a hundred degrees by the time he reached the huge house high in the mountains.

Actually, huge didn’t quite fit. More like… massive. Castle, maybe? Surely, it rivaled any mansion in the big cities. Brick walls towered over the circular driveway, windows lining them. The double entrance doors could easily fit six grown men in a row, with six more guys sitting on their shoulders. The whole place looked more like a house belonging to a fairy tale giant.

One of the doors opened, revealing an older man in classic butler dress. Kelly carried his laptop bag while pulling his wheeled suitcase behind him. When he reached the butler, the man smiled, breaking the stereotypical stoic demeanor.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Snow. Master Stone is awaiting you in his library.”

“Thank you, Mr… ?”

“Just Joseph, if you will.” Joseph gestured to himself. He took Kelly’s suitcase handle and stepped aside.

Kelly entered, his gaze caught immediately by the sweeping grand staircase dominating the foyer. It tapered up from the floor to a broad landing, then continued upward on either side. A statue of a dragon, of all things, stared down from the landing.

Joseph shut the door and walked around Kelly. “I will take your suitcase up to your room. Master Stone doesn’t like to be kept waiting. This way, please.”

Great. A stuck-up hardass for a client.

Joseph left Kelly’s suitcase at the foot of the steps and led Kelly off to the left. Halfway down the hall, he knocked on a door.

“Yes?”

Kelly instantly recognized the deep, rumbling voice from the one he’d heard on the phone. A shiver moved up his spine.

“Mr. Snow is here, sir.”

“Show him in.”

Joseph opened the door and stood aside.

Kelly walked into the room, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. “Holy…”

The door shut quietly behind Kelly, leaving him alone with his new client.

Dregan Stone emerged from somewhere among the books. Dark hair touched his shoulders, and pale eyes reflected his stern expression. In any other circumstance, Kelly would’ve given anything to look his fill — or more. But Dregan Stone was a client, and no matter how fucking gorgeous, Kelly wasn’t about to cross that line.

“This is only one section of my library. I will show you the rest, but it is your job to organize it. I have business dealings I must attend to, so come along.”

Snapping himself out of a daze, Kelly followed silently. He would’ve at least shaken the man’s hand, but Stone seemed to be hyper-focused on work. So be it. Kelly could easily play along.

Stone pulled open a room divider to reveal what Kelly quickly realized was the bulk of the man’s book hoard. Three stories tall, and nearly as big as Kelly’s entire apartment, the library overflowed with books. There was no way in hell the man owned forty thousand books. Kelly would bet his life’s savings there were at least half a million books stacked, piled, shelved, and scattered on every available surface.

“You will begin work promptly at six every morning,” Stone said, intruding on Kelly’s awe-struck, reverent silence. “We break at noon exactly for lunch. Then resume until dinner at seven in the evening. I have a business to run, so I will not be available to assist you with the library. Do you have any questions?”

Kelly glanced at his hot-but-grouchily-stoic client. “When do I start?”

“Now.”

“Good.” Kelly entered the library, laptop bag sliding off his shoulder. “I will see you for dinner then.”

Stone nodded once and left Kelly to it.

Demon’s Grotto by Kate Hill #PNR #DarkDesire #Vampires #Shifters @chagnelingpress @katehillromance

Demon’s Grotto, where monsters sate their lust. Will you spend the night?

 

Demon's Grotto (Demon's Grotto 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Dark Fantasy, Dark Desire, Shapeshifters,
Vampires, Werewolves

 

Ben wants Laura to reconsider staying overnight at Demon’s Grotto, and he has information about the club’s history that should convince her. He tells her three creepy love stories, hoping she will change her mind.

Rise of the Creature: When a mad doctor brings a dead man back to life, only his beautiful assistant can make that life worth living.

The Demon Within: A man on the run stops to rest at a rooming house, not knowing that it’s the hunting ground of a gorgeous succubus bent on devouring handsome guests.

Don’t Cry, Wolf: An ad for a maintenance man at a bed and breakfast is answered by a former soldier who’s harboring a hairy secret. The business’s lovely co-owner becomes involved with this sullen hunk who’s more than she imagined possible.

After hearing these stories of love and murder, will Laura decide to spend the night at Demon’s Grotto?

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Hill

Despite the cold, misty night, Laura felt optimistic and excited, like she did whenever she was about to start a great story. Demon’s Grotto, the new club that had opened in a very old building, would be an amazing topic for an article. She’d already heard good things about the club. The name itself was an attention grabber, and the place seemed to deserve that dark, dangerous label.

She’d heard rumors that it was haunted. Staff and customers alike had seen, heard, and even felt a lot of strange things since the place opened. With her keen interest in the supernatural, Laura couldn’t wait to get to work. She didn’t think ghosts, demons, and werewolves were real, but she liked to fantasize and she also knew that many people liked to believe. In all her years of writing about paranormal creatures, she had never actually met one and doubted she ever would. Like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster, some things were meant only for entertainment. After all, you can’t find proof of something that doesn’t exist. Yet her job wasn’t to prove anything. She was just here to tell an enticing story.

Pausing outside the club, she gazed up at the old building that had once been a rich family’s mansion. The current owners had kept the old style, even through renovations. The ornate building was stained sable. The front door was black with red lettering that stated the club’s name and hours.

Laura was about to step inside when a man of average height wearing a wrinkled gray suit approached. He had thick black hair, a square jaw, and rich brown eyes that had an almost haunted expression.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re Laura, right?”

“Yeah. Do I know you?”

“You called the owner about coming here to write a story about the place.”

“Yes. Do you work here?”

“Sure. Yeah. When I heard you wanted to spend the night here to write your story, I knew I had to talk to you first.”

“Why? Do you mind if I take notes?”

“No. Go ahead.”

“What’s your name, by the way?”

“Ben.”

“And what do you do here, Ben?”

“I’m the maintenance guy.”

“Oh. So you must know all about the building.”

“More than I ever wanted to.”

“So why did you want to talk to me, Ben?”

“See that coffee shop across the street? Can we go there?”

“Why don’t we just go in the club?”

Ben’s dark eyes shifted toward the door. He shook his head. “No, Laura. I don’t feel like I can speak freely in there. If I’m going to tell you everything I know, it can’t be within those walls.” For the first time he truly nabbed her interest.

“Okay. Sure. We can go to the coffee shop,” she said, adjusting the strap of her laptop case more comfortably on her shoulder.

He headed to the coffee shop, and Laura followed. It had started raining harder, and when they stepped inside, they were both soaked. After ordering, they took their drinks to a table near the window.

From there, they had a clear view of Demon’s Grotto. A couple of people went in, and a few others came out. It seemed like a normal club. “That place has been bad news since the time it was built,” Ben said, breaking her thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“It was built in the early 1800s by the Damp family. Frederick Damp brought his wife and four kids over from England. Within two years of moving into the house, three kids and his wife died. One son, Raymond, survived. He married and had twin girls. When they were sixteen, one twin went crazy and killed the other. She was committed to an asylum and died there a couple of years later.”

Laura curled her lip. “That’s terrible.”

“It doesn’t get any better. Before they were killed in a carriage accident, Raymond and his wife had another child, a son, Martin. He married, but poisoned his wife, and then he drank the same poison himself. They had one child, Cyril, and this is where the story really gets strange.”

Laura chuckled. “Stranger than that?”

Ben didn’t return her smile, but stared at her with those dark, haunted eyes. “Much stranger than that.”

Molten (Box Set) by Kira Stone #scifi #aliens #alienencounters #GayRomance #LGBT #NewRelease @changelingpress

 

Mostly humanoid, definitely alien, sentient liquid metal.
Not what Dolan had hoped for in a lover.

 

Molten (Box Set) (Molten 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Futuristic, Paranormal,
Sci-fi, Alien Encounters, Gay

 

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Mostly Humanoid, definitely alien, sentient liquid metal. Not what Dolan had hoped for in a lover.

Molten: Condemned to serve as an indentured miner on a backwater way station, intergalactic translator Dolan knows more about Molten, the liquid metal that fuels Parkeet station, than most. So when he’s ordered to mate with a being that on first contact looks like a pool of the stuff he’s been mining, he’s less than enthusiastic. But his alternative is death.

More Molten: Dolan and his Molten lover, Zian, are on a mission — collect the bits of Molten that have been blown all over the galaxy. Can they rescue the younglings and return them to the Molten home world without blowing up this universe — or their relationship?

Molten Mayhem: Trapped in an escape pod with his mate’s future dependent on him, anger and the need to find Zian drive Dolan to escape, but time is against him. Will Dolan’s rescue bring the couple together or will it separate Dolan and Zian for good, and signal doom for the Molten race?

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kira Stone
Excerpt from Molten

I started stroking my schel — cock to many of you humanoids — and let my brain drift to sexual places I’d enjoyed in the past. My one and only session with the Orgasmatron. Threesome sex with the male twins from Fortunas Delta. And the one that just made my toes curl — a yearly fuck from the demon sex club on Trios.

And then there was him. The one I’d never had but always imagined to be somewhere. The one I looked for in every crowd. The one every other encounter failed, if only marginally, to equal.

Though I became instantly hard and ready to rock, the egg chose that moment to melt. Deform. Puddle.

Nothing will put a wilt in a creature’s sexual enthusiasm like having your partner disintegrate before penetration, let alone afterward. Unless, of course, that’s how they get off. But I’d never come across one who did that, and I didn’t feel that was the case with my egg partner.

The egg did this kind of melting thing, and then this pulsing thing, and then it just kind of ran together and began to rise. Not even a ripple crossed its surface as it took on another shape. That action alone should have told me something important but I didn’t figure out what until later.

When this organism finished re-morphing, it was my turn to collapse. Faint, really. For what I saw before me was not an egg, but the male of my dreams. No, I don’t mean the kind you have when you shut down for an hour in the rejuvenation chamber and wake a bit sticky. I mean the real mental fantasy I had when I was, err, egging on the egg. The perfect male I’d pictured but never met.

Now I know anything on Parkeet Station is labeled as humanoid as long as the being has at least two arms, two legs, one head and walks vaguely upright. All other details are optional and haphazard.

This humanoid was the best formed being the known multiverse had to offer. He had these golden eyes that fluttered open and closed with waves of emotion, and hair that hung in bronze streaks braided with gold to his waist.

His forehead had become so blue it was nearly black, but the color softened as it headed down his body until the tips of his toes were solar flare white. Plus he had all the right pieces in all the right places. So fucking gorgeous I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t breathe. Until my body reminded me that if I wanted to go on looking at him I required oxygen.

So I did that breathing thing again, and he still remained. My living dream. And, see, the thing is, he doesn’t really exist. My dream is just that. There’s no being I’ve seen in any dive, slave auction, or any other palace that resembled this creature. But there he was, standing in front of me, so he had to be real, right?

A morphing egg. One who knew what I liked. Egg sex then became not only possible, it just had to happen or my brain would implode. The concept of hearing “no” from those incredible azure lips just — no, not going there.

I stood and pointed at my chest, thinking I should at least attempt to introduce myself. “Dolan.”

It… he… turned his head as if considering this. “Xzavia’n.”

Right. The word sounded exotic and sexy, but he could have been talking about his mother for all I knew. But for now, I considered that his name. “Hello, Xzavia’n.”

His mouth crooked in a smile and I had the feeling he was trying hard not to laugh at my pronunciation. “Zian,” he supplied.

OK, that sounded like a name and one I could handle. I took another step closer to him and brushed my thumb against his cheek. His skin was extraordinary. Not plastic, not fur, and yet both. “Hello, Zian.”

He reached for my face and I anticipated a similar gesture, but he ran his fingers through my hair, tugging my face close to his, and kissed me. Deeply. Leisurely. As if exploring my mouth had no equal pleasure.

Bowie’s Angel by Lynn Burke #MCromance #bikerromance #eroticromane #NewRelease @AuthorLynnBurke @changelingpress

 

Can Bowie cut through the blindfold of lies and surrender to the truth in his heart?

 

Bowie's Angel (Devil's Outlaws MC 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Contemporary, Dark Desire, MC Romance,
New Adult, Silver Fox

 

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When a barely-legal blonde with a lithe, young body shows up at the Devil’s Outlaw MC strip joint to audition as a dancer, Ian “Bowie” Davies wants nothing more than to burrow between her long legs and claim her. She’s too young for his dominant side though, too innocent for the sharp edges of his darker desires. And way too hot to let another man touch her — a thought that has his hands itching to use his signature knives against any bastard who messes with his angel.

Hannah Harris ran away from home at age eighteen, desperate to escape the prison of her strict parents. Determined to delight in the sins her father preaches against, she puts her ballet talents to work, using a stripper pole to make a living. Dancing for Bowie and his blade has her panting to explore some of the “firsts” she planned to save for her future husband.

But when Bowie and his brothers attempt extortion beyond her parent’s ten thousand dollar reward for Hannah’s safe return, she’s left with a difficult choice. Offer up the evidence to put the notorious biker gang behind bars, or protect Bowie and chalk the shitshow up as a lesson learned and begin her independent life anew — without the lying bastard who owns her heart.

Can Bowie cut through the blindfold of lies on Hannah’s eyes and surrender the truth in his heart to win her back?

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lynn Burke

I sauntered through the doors of the Devil’s Strip Club like I owned the place even though my knees shook. Barely eighteen in a twenty-one and up only biker’s lounge, I had a mission and I wouldn’t be turned away.

Owned by the notorious Devil’s Outlaws, the “no-colors” club had been packed night after night from what I could tell from my tiny, third-floor apartment two blocks down the street. My new roommate, Cadence, danced in a nicer place closer to D.C., and had said the money was great when I told her I needed a job. Without a car, though, Devil’s convenience couldn’t be beat.

Muffled music thumped in the enclosed entryway, slipping through the tightly closed double doors ahead of me. The bearded, tattooed man on a stool beside them took his time checking me out from the tips of my black stiletto boots, up over bare thighs to the tiny leather skirt that hid the goods. A peek of my belly button and toned skin of my midriff gave way to a red halter top that showed off what little cleavage I had, my long, blonde hair waving over the small swells. The man’s focus snagged on my plump lips that shimmered with pale gloss, but eventually, he shifted his attention to my eyes, made up with makeup to make me appear older than the innocent soul I was.

“Hey,” I said, popping one hip out and smacking my lips together, while noting his shoulders, easily three times the width of mine, packed a mass of muscle beneath his black, button-down shirt. “I’m here to see Bowie.”

The man’s blue-eyed gaze slid back down over me. “He call you in?”

A broke-as-hell runaway desperate to make it on my own, I wasn’t above lying to get what I wanted, but the man stared at me as though he could read right through me. Partial lie, then.

“No.” I fought to keep my jitters contained. “But I heard he’s looking for some new skin onstage.” I slowly turned around to give him another look, arms held out at my sides, hoping like hell Cadence’s borrowed outfit would do the trick. I had to get caught up with rent, help with groceries, and I had a mile-long bucket list to tackle. Skydiving and learning to fly a plane didn’t come cheap.

Ever since I was a toddler, I’d always loved having eyes on me while dancing ballet. Now that I’d found independence, I wanted that feeling of owning the world rushing through me. What better way than to dance for much needed cash?

“Think I’ll do?” I lowered my voice, adding a breathless tone like the girls in some of the porno I’d finally gotten to fill my brain with — thanks to Cadence.

“I’d fuck every hole of your sweet body.” He stood and adjusted the massive bulge between his thighs.

Needing every advantage, I let my attention linger even if the guy did nothing for my hormones. “That a fact?” I asked, lowering my voice even more. “Think Bowie will see me?”

“He’ll want that pouty mouth of yours wrapped around his cock, that’s for fucking sure.”

In his dreams…

I flashed a smile, tipping my chin down to peer up at him through my lashes, so far out of my comfort zone the rush of adrenaline hit me like a high — not that I knew what a real high was. But, no longer hindered by religious, overly protective parents, I planned on sinning until I burned in hell. “What’s your name, big boy?”

“Brewer.” He held out a meaty hand, and I let him swallow mine whole.

As I’d hoped, his eyes filled with lust at the big boy nickname I’d offered.

“I’m Hannah.” My real name — its innocent sound matching every inch of my untouched body, but hardly my mind or soul. Finally on my own, I planned to live like my parents hadn’t ever allowed.

“Send me in?” I asked in my breathless tone again, pushing aside thoughts of my mom and dad, and how much they might be hurting because of my disappearance.

“Sure thing, baby girl.” His dress shirt tightened against his massive pecs as he twisted to push in the door beside him. “Good luck.”

The thumping bass of the song blaring through the open room heightened my heartbeat, its steady beat twinging through my pussy. A song to fuck to at eleven in the morning — not that I knew what that was like just yet.

Unable to keep from grinning, I stepped inside.

I’d done a ton of research online and asked Cadence a million questions on what to expect, but it didn’t prepare me for the interior of the biker’s strip joint. Dim overheads, flashing lights, the scent of booze, cigarettes, and colognes flooded all of my senses. Alive with life, alive with the scent of sin.

I licked my lower lip hoping for a taste, but satisfied with breathing it deep into my lungs.
The main stage lay directly ahead, lounge chairs pushed right up against it, allowing the few men seated to reach up and actually touch the kneeling, topless redhead jiggling her boobs at them.

Bills tucked into her little black thong, crotch-less, I noted, as she stood and bent over, giving the men a view of her bare pussy. I stood, rooted to the spot as the door clicked shut behind me, my smile fading. Did this Bowie allow customers to touch the dancers even if the girls didn’t want them to?

Cadence had said there was a no-touchy policy where she danced — unless they consented and danced in private rooms.

Lower lip between my teeth, I watched a full minute, recognizing most of the moves I’d learned over the past two months from Cadence, but the dancing girl escaped behind a curtain as the song ended, whatever virtue she had — if any to begin with — still intact.

A blond guy manned the bar where three patrons sat to my left, his focus on my legs. Toned from years spent in ballet and long, they definitely made up for my lack up top. Lifting my lips into what my new roommate assured me was a “come hither” look, I sauntered toward the bartender.

Hazel eyes, scruff, and a button-down black shirt similar to Brewer’s, open to reveal his hairless, tattooed chest… Not bad. Not bad at all.

He wasn’t the one, though. He didn’t give me that oh, mercy, yes feeling I would have to have before handing over my virginity. I planned on sinning a whole bunch, but that piece of me — that was something I’d held onto long enough that waiting for someone special set steady in my head.

I drew closer, hoping he was Bowie, because the yes in his eyes sent another rush of adrenaline through me. The way he looked at me, I was sure he would hire me.

“Bowie?” I asked, needing to half-holler to be heard over the next song blaring in stereo through the place.

“No. I’m Darling,” he shouted back, holding out his hand. He added, probably reading the confusion on my face, “And yes, that’s my name.” I smiled the sexy smirk I’d been practicing and slipped my palm against his. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ditto, babe. Ditto.” He held my hand a bit longer than necessary, his gaze flitting down to my meager cleavage. “You’re here to see Bowie?”

“Yes.”

Darling released my hand. “Come on.” He edged around the corner of the bar I stood beside and motioned me to follow him across the lounge.

I ambled behind Darling, my legs shaking and insides trembling. Pressing a hand to my chest, I breathed deeply, trying to slow my heartbeat. Acting like a nervous wreck, voice shaking, would only get me tossed out on my ass. I needed to own this interview — if there even would be an interview.

Brewer’s words about the manager wanting my lips wrapped around his cock flitted across my brain, but I wouldn’t get on my knees for any man. No matter how pretty, how powerful, how dominant. Only eighteen, I was my own woman. Independent, and I would never give that up to live subservient ever again. If it meant flipping burgers until I could find something else, I would do it. I just really hoped I wouldn’t have to. I hadn’t worked a day in my life since my father’s job more than took care of our needs, and I wasn’t sure I would be too good at anything other than dancing.

Darling dipped his head at a mountain of a man in a red plaid shirt guarding a door marked “Private” and pushed through. I smiled up at the unsmiling man, setting aside more thoughts of my parents. They had their church to comfort them — the congregation that had always been more important to them than their only child.

You’re here for a job. Own it. I reminded myself of that while stepping over the threshold.

A carpeted hallway lay before us, a glowing, red exit sign at the far end. Two doors lay on either side, and another even longer hall cut back to our left, a handful of doors along its length, a set of stairs going up at the end. We continued straight, and the door we’d entered through snicked shut behind us, muting the lounge’s music.

“Bowie’s office,” Darling said, stopping at the door on the left. He knocked.

“Yeah!” The husky holler tightened my nipples.

Darling pushed the door in and stepped back, motioning me past him.

The scent of evergreen and something warm and mouth-watering washed over me. I moved inside, every inch of my skin tingling.

Framed pictures of nude women, in chains and gagged, tied up and panting, lined the walls, snaring my gaze and instantaneously dampening my panties. My lips parted before I could stop them sucking in a gasp. I’d seen my fair share of porn and naughty images since lighting out on my own, but none of them had turned me on in the way the stark black-and-white images on the office walls did.

Perhaps it was the combination of the scent flooding my nose along with the images, but desire to be one of those women swept over me, and I bit my lower lip against the rush of warmth between my thighs.

“Who are you?”

A shiver slid over my skin as the sexy, raspy voice caressed my ears. I turned my focus on the brown-haired man behind the desk, and my heart seized, robbing me of breath.

Caramel-colored eyes squinted from a clean-shaven face with the most alluring lips I’d ever set eyes on, perfectly bowed on top and plump on bottom. I wanted to lick across his mouth, see if he tasted like I’d always expected my first kiss would.

He stood, and my gaze stalled on the tight, black T-shirt hugging every ripple of his upper body. My mouth flooded with drool, and I swallowed. Sinfully sexy. Hottest man on the planet. Temptation in the form of an apple like Satan must have offered Eve, and oh, how I wanted a bite.

Loved by the Elite Commander by Jessica Coulter Smith #scifi #aliens #alienencounters #SFR #eroticromance @changelingpress

 

She’s the only hope for my people, our salvation.
I never thought I’d fall in love with her.

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Futuristic, Sci-fi,
Alien Encounters, Alternate Universe, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance

 

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My people are dying out, and if my generation doesn’t find compatible mates soon then my people will become extinct. When I hear of a race called Humans who are capable of breeding with Elorian males, I know we must find some and convince them to mate with single males on Elora.

Their home planet is too far from my own, but a ship of slaves crash-landed on X-2 five hundred years ago and many were of the Human race. It’s there I know I’ll find the females who will save my kind.

It never occurred to me that I would be the first to claim a mate, or that she would have been so horribly abused. Despite her horrific past, my sweet Marcy gives me a chance, and now that she’s mine I will do anything in my power to protect her.

 

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Cool Text - Excerpt 315284462333348

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Jessica Coulter Smith

The sun on the unforgiving planet beat down, making it hard to breathe. My parents were long gone, and there was no one left to protect me.

The colony I called home was a lawless place where men dominated and females were no better than slaves. I knew our history, had heard of my ancestors and how they’d been captured on another world, taken into slavery. Then the ship had crash-landed here, and the survivors had created a new home.

The alien slavers had died, but the slaves had all lived. Mostly Human, though there were a few other races that seemed peaceful most of the time. The others kept to themselves and didn’t interfere.

My mother had told me stories about Earth, the world our people had come from, and how wonderful it had been. The stories had been passed from her mother, and so on all the way back to the original Humans who had landed on X-2. There had been something called television and movies, music, and tall glass buildings that reached up into the sky.
She’d said that women had the same rights as men on our home planet, and were given a voice even when selecting leaders. It seemed a bit strange to me, not having known any of those things, but it was nice to think there was a place like that out there somewhere.

Our current home was a nightmare. The red dirt coated everything, and the sun stayed bright and hot for all but a few hours out of each day. Unlike the Earth my mother had spoken of, women here had no rights of any kind. Whatever a man told us to do, we had to comply immediately or face the consequences. Some of my friends had learned the hard way exactly what that meant, and bile rose in my throat as I thought about it. Each punishment was made public to make an example of the woman who had dared to disobey. It didn’t matter if a man asked you to fetch him food, or strip off your clothes. We weren’t allowed to say no to anything.

I’d heard of females running and hiding. I didn’t know how true that was, or if they were even still alive if they had managed such a feat. The only shelters I knew of were the crude homes and buildings of our small village. Sometimes I wished there was a place I could hide as well. Men didn’t take wives, like my mother had said happened on Earth, and those who did choose a female to bear their children didn’t remain faithful to them. Women were cattle to be used as the men saw fit. Breeders, or a thing to play with.

I felt Bruce’s hand slide up my arm as he crowded me. Revulsion filled me, but I knew better than to pull away. I’d been his favorite for a while. Not his ‘only’, by any means, but his favorite. I’d have gladly given that honor up to someone else. The brute never cared if he hurt me, and I sometimes felt like he got off on making me scream. My body still wore the bruises he’d left the last time he’d forced my submission.

Better me than some of the others, though. In this lawless society men didn’t temper their needs for any reason, which meant even the teen girls were fair game. My mother had assured me on our home world something like that would have been cause for punishment, that men could be imprisoned for the things they did here. I often wondered if what she said was true, or merely a story to give me hope that life could be better.
There were times I wished both the aliens and slaves on the crashed ship had died that day rather than live like this another moment. Bruce’s hand tightened on me and he turned me to face him.

“You’re going to serve drinks to me and my friends tonight, Marcy. And you’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you?” he asked.

Like I had much of a choice. I nodded and refused to meet his gaze.

“Good.” His hand petted me some more. “After our card game, we’ll all have some fun.”

Oh, God! Anything but that! I knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t uncommon for Bruce to have game nights, and after they were well and truly drunk, they’d take turns with whatever woman had been serving them that night.

I tried not to tremble or give away my fear and disgust. By some miracle, I’d never gotten pregnant, but sooner or later that luck would run out. I’d either give birth to a daughter who would face the same fate as me, or a son who would become a monster. I couldn’t stand the thought of either scenario.

“Go brush out your hair and come to my place. Don’t be late,” he said.

Just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone. My body sagged and I couldn’t stop the tears that tracked my cheeks. I couldn’t do it! Not again. There was so much I’d endured since I’d turned sixteen and caught a man’s eye, but I knew I was slowly losing my mind. I should be grateful.

I’d been late in becoming a woman, my body not changing until much later than the others. Had I developed curves and begun my monthly bleeding at an earlier age, I doubted the men would have waited until I was sixteen. A few women in our small colony had already broken and taken their lives. I knew if I had to endure much more, I would follow in their steps. I refused to believe that my life was supposed to be like this.

I crept into the hall of the cracked and crumbling building we called home. As silently as I could, I managed to flee into the hot air outside. A breeze caressed me and gave me the courage to move forward.

Freedom! That’s what I tasted, what I smelled… No matter what happened, I wasn’t going back! I silently made my way through the winding path of crumbling buildings until I reached the outer wall. The guard at the gate had his head slumped, probably having had too much to drink.

I ran, my bare feet digging into the soil and broken bits of rock that served as a road to the other alien settlements. The original survivors had broken off into groups, and set up colonies on this small, dry planet. The trees beckoned, their brown and orange leaves crackling in the air, and I pushed myself, not daring to look back and only moving forward. I ran until my lungs burned and my legs ached. Pain pierced my side and I didn’t think I could go much further.

A few land vehicles had been salvaged from the crashed ship and still ran even all these years later. The Human colony had one, as did two other settlements. I heard one approaching and crouched, hoping to blend in with the scratchy branches and dead leaves lining the roadway. My heart pounded so loud I worried they could hear it.

A hand covered my mouth and I was jerked against a large, hard body.

“Quiet,” a male voice said in my ear. The accent was different from anything I remembered hearing before, and my body tensed, but I knew better than to fight. If anything, my life had taught me that to deny a male would only end in more pain and suffering.

The hovercraft drove past and the male holding me moved further back into the dead foliage. Once the sound of the patrol was gone, I was released. I stumbled, nearly falling to the ground, but the guy caught me, holding me against his broad chest. I stared at it a moment, then blinked and blinked again.

His broad gold chest. My panic rose again as I realized that none of the survivors on this world were gold.

I whimpered, but my upbringing in this hostile place had taught me not to fight. I hung limply in the stranger’s embrace and hoped that if he wanted to kill me, that it would be quick and painless. The fact I’d never seen anyone like him before made me tremble, and I worried about what would happen to me. When had a new race of aliens landed on X-2?

The sheer size of him was intimidating, as he towered over me and was rather broad. Not from fat, because his arms and chest appeared to be thickly muscled. His eyes seemed like liquid gold as I looked up at him. Long black hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, with a braid on either side of his face. His jaw was covered in a short beard and there was a scar along one cheek. Something flicked against my ankles and I looked down, gasping when I saw a long, slender tail. I’d never seen anything on two legs with one of those before. It was golden like him, with a puff of black at the tip. As I studied his face again, I realized there were three ridges across his brow that looked like some sort of hard plating.

“You’re safe now, female,” he said. “My name is J-Ril, and I mean you no harm.”