Tempting Officer Mason by Cameron Allie #PNR #NewAdult #NewRelease #ContemporaryRomance

Tempting Officer Mason (Love Me or Leave Me 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

For years Riley has been trying to tempt her brother’s best friend into a relationship. She knows Heath has feelings for her, yet he continually thwarts her attempts to seduce him. When he finally agrees to one night with her, he puts steep stipulations on their involvement. Is Riley willing to meet his conditions, knowing it’s only one night?

The night Riley shows up unannounced at his house, shock keeps Heath from turning her away. After that first taste Heath knows he needs to distance himself, but when he shows up to her brother’s engagement party with another woman, he wonders if this time he’s gone too far.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Cameron Allie

Riley put the car in park, looked up at the darkened house, and for the tenth time told herself this wasn’t a bad idea.

She couldn’t believe she’d let Scott pawn off the job of watching his friend’s cat while her brother went away with his girlfriend for the weekend. But Heath was out of town and would never know she’d been sneaking around his house.

Not that she planned to snoop. No. She was just here to give the cat some company.

An argument could be made that because it was the middle of the night she really shouldn’t be there. But Heath was away. He’d never know. So what was the harm?

Hopping from the car, she headed for the front door, her purse in one hand, the spare key in the other. She’d already been to see the cat that morning. She’d spent an hour playing with Sage before feeding her and giving her fresh water. Riley had felt bad leaving the poor thing alone, but it felt weird to be in Heath’s home when he wasn’t there. Hell, it was weird to be in his home at all. He made a point to never invite her over.

On multiple occasions he’d made it clear her interest in him was one-sided. He’d actively avoided her since the dreadful night she’d asked him out. Not that he’d allowed her to get close to him before that.

The porch was dark, so Riley struggled a bit to fit the key in the lock. She looked over her shoulder again. Midnight wasn’t the safest time to be out alone.

It was probably a mistake, but after the disaster of a date she’d just endured, she didn’t relish the idea of going home to her empty apartment. She’d rather curl up on the sofa in Heath’s living room and cuddle with his cat.

It wasn’t like she was going through his sock drawer to see how many condoms he kept stocked in his house. She wasn’t going to sniff his shirts or peek in his closets. She was just doing what her brother had asked. Checking in on Sage.

She pushed open the door, and using the light from the street, set the key on the table by the door. Quietly she shut the door and turned to search for the light switch.

That was when someone grabbed her.

Riley screamed, but it did her no good as she was shoved face-first against the wall. Something cold and hard was pressed against her back. A gun. Aimed right between her shoulder blades.

Her purse fell to the floor.

A gruff voice cut through the darkness. “Don’t move.”

“Oh… okay,” she said on a shaky breath. She pressed her eyelids together and tried not to tremble. Who the hell had broken into Heath’s house? Who was dumb enough to break into a cop’s home?

Quickly, yet thoroughly, his large hand began to roam over her. The gun was still shoved against her skin, as his palm shifted down her side, then slipped beneath the hem of her dress to inspect her thighs, and the space between them.

Confused and scared, Riley swallowed.

She tried not to jerk away from the hand as it frisked her. It was intimate, yet professional. Whoever he was, he was fast and practiced. He knew what he was looking for. He wouldn’t find any weapons on her. She never carried a weapon, and in her little black dress she wouldn’t even know where to hide one.

His hand skimmed along her other side and up to her bust.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” The hand paused on her breast. “Who are you?”

“Please, I…” Slowly his words sank in. Her panicked tone vanished. “Your house? Heath?”

Surprised, he replied, “Riley?”

“Oh, thank God.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? It’s my house! What the hell are you doing breaking into my house? It’s damn near midnight!”

It was after midnight, but she wasn’t about to correct him. “I came to look after Sage. Scott’s out of town and asked me to look in on her.” Riley tried to relax her stance. Her hands were still against the wall and his gun was still pressed against her. His warm palm still cradled her breast. “Can you put the gun away, please?”

The metal was removed. He placed the gun next to where she’d set his house key. “No way did Scott mean for you to come here so late at night. What the hell, Riley? Were you looking to snoop around my place?”

She swallowed. He was pissed. And rightly so. She’d probably scared him half to death, but he’d done the same to her. “I was coming home from a date and thought I’d stop by to check on her.”

“She’s a cat. She’d be fine until morning.”

“Right.” Of course she would be. Riley failed to mention her own need for company, for someone to talk to. No way would she admit to Heath that she was lonely. “You aren’t supposed to be back yet.”

“I came home a day early. I was in bed when I heard the front door open. What was Scott thinking by sending you?”

“Sorry. I’ll go.” Riley tried not to let her hurt show. She could cry when she got home. It wasn’t like she had much else to do. Then a thought occurred to her. Was he alone in bed, or did he have some random girl here? He always seemed to have a different date each time she saw him. “I’ll let you get back to whoever you left in bed.” She couldn’t keep the venom from her tone.

“I was alone in bed.” His hand tightened on her boob. “Naked, alone, and enjoying a nice little dream, until I was woken up by someone sneaking into my house.”

Naked? Wait. “I wasn’t sneaking!” she protested.

He rested his other palm on the wall, next to hers. His chest pressed against her back. In her ear he whispered, “What would you call it, then?”

She didn’t know if they’d ever stood this close before. She gulped. “Your hand is on me.” She wanted to smack herself in the head. Way to play it cool.

“You want me to move it?” He almost sounded excited, turned-on. It gave her hope. Hope she knew better than to have.

She closed her eyes. She could smell his aftershave.

Should she make him remove his hand? Yes.

Did she want him to remove it? No.

 

 

Fire’s Heat by Kate Steele #boxset #contemporary #cowboyromance #RomanceBooks @changelingpress

Fire's Heat (Duet)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Who knew love could be so dangerous?

A Sure-Fire Cure: Betrayed by a former lover, veterinarian Dean Conlon knows how dangerous love can be. But his attraction to the handsome horse breeder, Scott Whittaker, is immediate and undeniable.

While Dean struggles against his own fears, Scott wages a tempting campaign of seduction. But someone else is in love with Dean and they’ll do whatever it takes, including murder, to claim Dean for their own.

New Year’s Fire: Unless Dean finds a way to mend the breach between his lover and himself, the start of their New Year is going to be anything but happy. Dean hopes to stir the banked embers of their passion and set this New Year’s Eve on fire.

 

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SNEAK PEEK

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Steele
Excerpt from A Sure-Fire Cure

Dean woke to a thumping reverberation in his head. Groggily he sat up. A split second of confusion gave way to understanding when he realized he was hearing pounding at the front door instead of suffering some strange, mutant headache. Grabbing his jeans from the chair near the bed where he’d dropped them earlier, he pulled them on, not bothering with briefs. He buttoned a few of the lower buttons while stumbling to the entrance in the dark.

Switching on the living room lights, he unlocked and opened the door to find a tall, broad-shouldered man waiting. Piercing blue eyes captured his from a ruggedly handsome and tanned face that was framed by thick, wavy and swept back sun-bleached hair.

“Doctor Conlon?” The stranger’s voice was firm, deep and demanding.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got a mare that needs attention. She’s about to drop her first foal, but she’s having trouble.”

“Why didn’t you just call?”

Dean was pinned by that brilliant blue-eyed gaze. “I wasn’t taking the chance that you might put me off. This mare’s valuable, Doc. I don’t want to lose her or the foal.”

“I never ignore calls for help,” Dean answered pointedly. “Let me get the rest of my clothes.” He strode back to the bedroom, quickly finished dressing, then returned to the living room to snatch his car keys out of the ashtray resting on a small side table.

“You won’t need those, I’ll drive.”

Dean glared at the man. “You’ll have to bring me home.”

“Not a problem.”

He saw the determination that sparkled in the man’s eyes and nodded. Wordlessly, he grabbed his medical bag and the pair of boots waiting near it. “Let’s go.”

Following the man out, he secured his door and pocketed his keys. In front of the house stood a fairly new truck, dark and shiny in the glare of the outside light. Dean walked around to the passenger side, climbed in and buckled his seat belt after settling his boots and bag on the floor. He leaned back, closing his eyes. His driver, already in place, started the truck and took off.

Dean took a deep breath, willing his nerves and stomach to calm down. It was disconcerting even under the best of circumstances to be pulled unceremoniously from a sound sleep; his head spun with the tiniest bit of disorientation that always seemed to cling for a few minutes whenever he was abruptly awakened. His body needed time to adjust.

Opening his eyes, his gaze was pulled to the motion of the driver’s hands on the steering wheel. In the glow of the dash lights, Dean watched every move. The hands were large and sinewy, the fingers long, broad and tapered; they looked strong and capable. Dean had a fleeting flash of his dream and felt his belly tighten while a tingle threaded its way down the length of his cock. For one unguarded, sleep-befuddled moment he wondered what it would be like to have those hands gliding over his skin.

He came to with a snap and took himself firmly to task. Dean suddenly realized that he had no idea in whose company he was, or where they were going. Clearing his throat, he managed to rasp out his question. “By the way, who are you?”

“Scott Whittaker. I live about five miles from here, on Westover Road. Don’t know if you’ve been by the place, but I’ve got a few acres and some horses.”

Dean stared. A few acres and some horses? The Whittaker place was large, to say the least. He had no idea exactly how big the spread was, but it was more than just a few acres. The property had rolling hills and flat pasture, all neatly fenced and well groomed. The Whittaker appaloosas were some of the most well known and sought after of the breed, both in the U. S. and abroad. When Dean had bought his veterinary practice from old Dr. Dennison a few months ago, he had read the files left behind, including the Whittaker’s. He had wondered if he’d hear from them, or if they’d take their business elsewhere.

“I’ve been by your place, Mr. Whittaker. You’ve got some beautiful acreage, and from what I’ve seen, some fine-looking horses.”

“Call me Scott.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Scott. You can call me Dean or Doc, I’ll answer to either one.”

“Glad to meet you, too, Dean. Sorry I had to drag you out of bed.”

The rich, low rumble of Scott’s voice traveled over Dean’s nerve endings and made his stomach do another twist. He took a deep, calming breath, only to find it flavored by a subtle scent that intrigued and tickled his nostrils. It was a full-bodied aroma that wove its way into Dean’s nostrils, wafting in to tickle his palate. It smelled faintly of horse, but mostly of man. There was warmth to it and a teasing, almost spicy musk that caused his groin to tighten yet again.

“Not a problem.”

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kate’s love of books started from the moment she read those fateful words: run, Spot, run! It took her awhile to discover that she didn’t have to just read and imagine, but that she could also write stories and so here she is writing romance and loving it. Like chocolate – her ultimate favorite food, with pizza running a close second – writing became addictive. Whether it’s paranormal, contemporary or science fiction about werewolves, otherworldly creatures or the average Joe, she can’t get enough.

As for the everyday details, Kate lives in a turn of the century house located in the midst of Indiana farm country, and is kept company by family, along with demanding dogs, contrary cats and a pair of occasionally sweet, and definitely noisy, lovebirds. When not writing, she reads, is an enthusiastic grower of iris, and a fanatic fan of Japanese manga and anime.

More from Kate at Changeling Press…

Website: http://www.katesteele.com

 

 

 

Tainted Son by Emily Carrington #PNR #UrbanFantasy #LGBT #shifters #GayRomance #NewRelease @changelingpress @CarringtonEmily

Tainted Son (Wolf Schooled 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Biting is central to werewolf society, from discipline to lovemaking, but David is unable to tolerate this most important cultural sharing. When he falls for a wolf who longs to bite him, he must overcome his past or spend the rest of his life alone.

Liam is a werewolf with the ability to change his human guise. He’s always been able to fool others… until he meets David, who not only sees who he really is but how he truly feels. But Liam has a deep craving, something he continually confuses with rage, and this just might drive David away.

 

Get it now at Changeling Press or Pre-Order for June 7th at retailers

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SNEAK PEEK

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

Liam Abernathy volunteered at the medical clinic on the SearchLight Academy campus three days a week. He’d been given a special dispensation so that his required “work with humans” in his second year was modified. All students had to work with humans during their time at the academy, but Liam was allowed to serve magical creatures as well. This duty, however, was limited to six hours a week, and he’d discovered he really liked helping people. He was even considering changing his major from tracker or negotiator, to possibly medic. That would require extra schooling and he didn’t really like that notion, being filled with restless energy to do something with his life, but the idea of helping people tempted him.

He would have probably decided to pursue a medical career already if it wasn’t for his strange psychic ability. Patients and medics alike didn’t appreciate not knowing who exactly they were talking to and Liam’s ability to shift appearances was off-putting.

Today was Frost Thaw. This morning he had volunteered to work an extra shift because he hated this particular werewolf holiday. It happened every thirteenth of February, just a day before the humans’ Valentine’s Day, and in Liam’s opinion it served an equal purpose. If you were mated to someone, it was a time to exchange gifts and get laid. For everyone else, it was a reminder of what they didn’t have — either never possessed — or had had taken away.

For Liam, it was the latter. He’d moved to the US from England when he was nineteen. Two miserable years ago. His lover, who he’d met while the other werewolf was on holiday in London, had stayed with him a total of three months. Then he’d abandoned Liam. They hadn’t made love, knowing this would mean instant mating under the old laws, and Liam should have taken that as a sign that they weren’t meant to be together. Instead, he’d taken the resistance as the other werewolf’s ability to hold himself in check and show good sense.

As it turned out, he was needed today. He couldn’t quite get a sense of what had happened. The campus was locked down tighter than a drum and everyone was told, via text or over the computer in the case of employees, to stay where they were and not venture outside their buildings. If they were between buildings, they were to get to the security office as quickly as possible, where “your ID can be verified.”

Liam had been working since six that morning. Shortly after sunrise, another text message came to everyone: the threat has been neutralized. Only that.

Apparently, the higher-ups, who usually didn’t bother to explain what was going on, were keeping to their pattern. Maybe half an hour later, the casualties started arriving. Most were brought in on gurneys, but there weren’t enough of those and so wheelchairs were being used.

Assigned to comfort waiting victims or families of the same, Liam felt like he wasn’t much use while every medic on duty and those who could be called went to work.

So, he was hanging around, trying to stay out of the way, when the last of the victims were brought in. All of these were ambulatory, shock in their eyes but not too much damage done to their bodies. They were arranged in three rows of chairs and told to wait. Many of those who had been so unceremoniously seated began to talk among themselves. Some were grumbling about being required to sit when there was nothing wrong with them. Others were venting about not being able to keep comforting the ones who had been hurt.

Liam approached, thinking to soothe their nerves. Instead, he caught the scent of blood and followed his nose to where another werewolf sat sandwiched between a dragon of some sort and someone who smelled half Fae. The werewolf’s shirt was torn to expose one arm over the elbow joint. Like all the other walking victims, he’d been wearing something around his neck that left bruises.

Liam crouched in front of him. “Hi there,” he murmured, catching the werewolf’s gaze. “What’s your name?”

“David Holstein.” He looked away. “I’m fine.” He flushed, probably because he’d realized Liam was a werewolf too and could smell a lie. “Not badly hurt.”

That was true, but there were different kinds of hurt.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Carrington has been writing m/m erotic romance (specializing in urban fantasy) since 2010. She is currently branching out into the other letters of the LGBTQ rainbow. She lives in Maryland with her guide dog. For short stories about the main and side characters in her books, please visit her website.

More from Emily at Changeling Press…

Website: http://emilycarrington.com

Blog:http://goodreads.com/author/show/4619715.Emily_Carrington

 

Master of Fate by Angela Knight #DarkFantasy #PNR #interracial #shifters #vampires #NewRelease @changeilngpress

Master of Fate (Merlin's Legacy 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

ABOUT THE BOOK

Davon Fredericks is on a self-appointed mission to keep Mad Alys sane. And that job’s never been harder.

Alys Hawkwood is the most powerful seer among the witches of the Magekind. She’s seen a lot of horrors in her visions, but this is the worst: the destruction of the Magekind. The only way to prevent the deaths of everyone she cares about is to allow their worst enemy to kidnap her. Her only hope of rescue is her vampire partner, Davon — the man she loves — and the one she can never have.

To carry out her plan and save them all, Davon must pull off the impossible: take on a dragon and countless alien enemies alone. But his most deadly opponent is Alys herself…

 

Available now at Changeling Press or Pre-Order for June 7th at retailers

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SNEAK PEEK

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Angela Knight

Davon Fredericks watched the rich crimson liquid swirl in the cut crystal glass as he rotated his wrist. The roots of his fangs ached.

He took a sip, and the taste exploded on his tongue, sending a jolt of magic lancing the length of his spine. Heat streamed into his groin at the flavor, the scent, the sheer, erotic essence of Alys Hawkwood’s blood.

His gaze slid over to her as she sat next to him on the dark tufted leather of the couch, watching Netflix on an enchanted tablet. Alys looked barely twenty — quite a trick for someone born when Shakespeare was writing Hamlet.

Twelve years ago, if someone had told Davon he’d be partners with an Elizabethan, he’d have put that idiot on a psych hold. He’d considered himself a thoroughly rational man, a believer in science and logic. He’d had to be. He was a twenty-first century African American trauma surgeon in Chicago, a city where it wasn’t easy to be either black or a doctor. He hadn’t had time for woo-woo crap — until a witch offered him the chance to become a vampire and save humanity.

Now here he was, immortal partner to another beautiful witch.

And Alys was beautiful.

Her skin was a couple of shades lighter than his own deep bronze, since she was the daughter of an African vampire father and a Caucasian witch. Her lean, muscled body was a product of centuries of fighting for the survival of humanity — and a tendency to forget to eat unless Davon nagged her.

A riot of gleaming midnight curls sprang from her elegant head, framing a delicate, angular face. Huge eyes of a deep cinnamon brown balanced the swoop of her wide nose and the lush curve of her mouth. Soft, vulnerable lips parted as she laughed at something on her screen, showing the white edges of her teeth.

God, Davon hungered for that mouth. He’d wanted to kiss her the first time he met her, and he still wanted it ten years later. And he wanted to taste a lot more than her mouth, starting with the smooth length of those golden thighs, only partially concealed by a tiny pair of yellow shorts. A matching silk shirt bloused over her pretty breasts, drawing his attention to the hard nipples tenting the thin fabric.

Davon’s fangs gave another throbbing pulse as his cock hardened. Yeah, no.
He dragged his gaze away by sheer force of will, focusing his attention on the oak wainscoting that ran around the house’s library. That section of paneling was intricately carved with magical symbols designed to amplify Alys’s magic. Though they’d shared the big Tudor-style mansion for ten years, he was still finding new flourishes in the decor.

Whenever Alys felt anxious, she conjured something beautiful. The unicorn tapestry that covered one of the library walls had appeared following the last battle with King Bres. Davon’s near death at the hands of a troll had resulted in a stained-glass portrait of Merlin. He suspected every statue, rug, and carved ceiling beam in the house owed its existence to post-battle anxiety.

The whole place was the three-dimensional equivalent of Pinterest page therapy — lovely, whimsical — and ever so slightly OCD.

Aaand his erection had finally deflated, thank God. He blew out a breath in relief. He and Alys didn’t have that kind of fuckbuddy partnership. Damn it.

Mostly to keep his mind off his dick, he asked, “Any word on what Bres is up to?” Nothing could kill an erotic mood quite like a magic-using psychotic who wanted all humans dead.

Alys looked up, intelligence burning like a flame in cinnamon eyes. “The Fomorians have gone quiet. I have a feeling he’s up to som…” Her voice trailed off.

What looked like a wave of ink flooded Alys’s sclera and irises, drowning her eyes in black. Points of light burst against the darkness, stars igniting in the eternal night. Oh, hell. She was having a vision.

Though his heart had begun to pound, Davon didn’t move, didn’t do anything to interrupt. Alys was the most powerful seer among the Magekind’s witches. They all got flashes of the future, but no one else saw as clearly. More importantly, she could often predict how to avoid a horrific future, a talent not even Morgana Le Fay had.

So no, you didn’t interrupt one of Alys’s visions.

Not that what she learned was always welcome. Sometimes preventing one ugly future would trigger something even worse, so they couldn’t do a damn thing.

Which didn’t do a lot for her mental state. There was a reason they called her Mad Alys. Davon’s mission in life was making sure that shitty nickname didn’t become a reality.

He watched her expression, trying to determine whether this one was going to be another one of those situations. At least there were no flickers of terror and despair on her face, though the tightening line of her jaw suggested growing anger.

A kid must be involved in this. Nothing pissed Alys off like some asshole hurting a child. Often the asshole in question ended up very, very dead by the time she and Davon finished teaching him the error of his ways.

The blackness drained from Alys’s eyes as if someone had pulled a stopper in her skull, revealing her normal irises. She blinked at him, her gaze a little confused.

“Alys?” he asked.

The vague air vanished as her eyes snapped into focus. “We’ve got a mission.” Surging off the couch as if she’d been launched from a catapult, the Maja flung her arms wide.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight’s first book was written in pencil and illustrated in crayon; she was nine years old at the time. A few years later, she read The Wolf and the Dove and fell in love with romance. In addition to her fiction work, Angela’s publishing career includes a stint as a comic book writer and ten years as a newspaper reporter. Several of her stories have won South Carolina Press Association awards. Angela lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a detective with the Spartanburg PD.

More from Angela at Changeling Press…

 

 

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!

 

 

Austin’s Ward by Lynn Burke #MCromance #bikerbooks #RomanceBooks #NewRelease @AuthorLynnBurke @changelingpress

Austin's Ward (Devil's Outlaws MC 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: MC romance, Contemporary

 

As the Devil’s Outlaws Sergeant at Arms, Austin Butterbaugh has no intention of getting involved. A self-proclaimed bachelor for life, he’s endured a broken heart and refuses to suffer the same again. But the second Cadence Fraser crosses his path, with her long blonde hair and curves, she owns him.

Sleeping with a senator didn’t offer Cadence the ticket to a better life she’d hoped for. Instead, she’s on the run for her life, straight into a badass biker’s arms — as his ward, under the Outlaw’s protection. Although fire flares to life between them, and Austin satisfies her in ways she’d never known, fear has Cadence’s sights set on something more.

With the senator hell-bent on eliminating every trace of his indiscretions, bodies will fall in Austin’s determination to protect Cadence. Failure won’t be tolerated, even if saving her could mean losing her forever. Her happiness is all that matters, but can Cadence fight past her fears to see a future with Austin before it’s too late?

 

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Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of hot romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

The Darkest Joy by Dahlia Rose #DarkFantasy #DarkDesire #PNR #interraciallove @changelingpress

The Darkest Joy (Dark Love 1)

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

 

For Bliss, Caim would tear hell apart. To bring Caim to the light,
Bliss would sacrifice everything.

 

For a crime committed in the halls of heaven, Caim fell from grace to become one of the fallen. His punishment is to serve in the pits of the underworld as collector of the devil’s debts.

A thousand years in the servitude of demons is more than Caim can bear. Now he has a chance to be free and to find peace. He has found what he seeks most in the eyes and arms of Bliss Tadeo, a phlebotomist in a small town called Merry, North Carolina. With her eyes and her heart she has soothed the beast within Caim and given him a chance for redemption — if they can survive his ultimate escape from hell…

Publisher’s Note: The Darkest Joy (Dark Love 1) is an edited version of a previously published work by the same name.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Dahlia Rose

So beautiful. He watched her smile as she strapped a piece of rubber around a patient’s bicep. The smile was brilliant, kindly and full of encouragement as she slipped a hollow needle into the vein. She murmured reassuring words to ease her patient’s fears. The lifeblood of the man began to fill the tube. Even from far away he could hear her every word. She talked about the weather, and asked about children, a conversation to take a person’s mind off what was happening and help them into a happy place. Finally she was done and then she flashed that glorious smile once more. Perfection.

No one could see him as he walked down the corridor behind her as he had done for weeks now. He watched her work and at night he sat outside her window and watched her sleep. Her beauty took his immortal breath away and the normalcy of her life gave him hope for himself. After thousands of years one mistake made him who he was now. Only redemption could free him from his immortal torment, his dungeon, his curse. He sat next to her, invisible, as she wrote up charts at her small desk, in her space, her sanctuary where she worked. He inhaled the scent of hair like it was a fine wine. The dark tresses smelled like honeysuckle and vanilla spice. He wanted to run his finger down the creamy chocolate shoulder that was exposed when she took off her lab coat. When she turned, her nose was just a breath away from his, yet she did not know it. Her breath caressed his lips. It had the scent of the strawberry soft chews she liked to snack on at her desk. He stared into eyes that were like liquid chocolate. Her lips were full and she wore gloss that had a slight color of gold. Pictures of family and friends were all around her, trinkets of her human life that she treasured. One picture she favored the most and she looked at it every day. She caressed the silver frame with the word grandmother in raised letters. He heard her speak of the woman frequently, saw them go out to lunch, and watched as she hugged her with affection and love. He longed for an emotional connection, a bond with another person that couldn’t be broken, he craved…

The call jarred him from his place next to her. It was like a sledgehammer to his head. He hated when this time came around, he hated being away from her. But if he did not go to his duties the repercussion would be great and by the time his punishment was over a hundred years would have passed and she would be long gone. A frown darkened his face as he moved away from her. He promised to return to no one but himself. The next time he would reveal himself to her slowly, letting her know the man before she knew the secret. Next time. Her name was Bliss. Bliss… Bliss… Bliss, he repeated the name over and over in his head. She would be his Bliss and his salvation.

He felt it in the fiber of his being. He closed his eyes and phased out of this world owned by humanity and into a world no one wanted to see. The walls of rock were dark with soot and the ground scorched the soles of shoes. As he walked, the heat caused the rubber to hiss as if you had dropped water into a hot frying pan. He hardened his heart to the screams of torment around him, the pleas for mercy or even a drink of water to quench eternal thirst. Had he shown any compassion the consequences would be dire for him and for the person whose plea he answered. No, it was better to pretend he did not see the bodies chained to the rock walls or hear the lashes from Qumuel’s whip against the flesh of his captives as he passed.

“What took you so long, Caim?” The snarl came from the demonic lips of Belial.

His face was almost flawless in its beauty but it belied the pure evil hiding underneath. There was no one more malevolent; more filled with hate and destruction than Belial. Caim had long stopped fearing him; he looked at him now with total disinterest.

He leaned his shoulder against the steaming rock wall; it burnt a hole through the fabric of his black shirt down to his skin. It burned his flesh but Caim did not even wince. Such was the life of a fallen angel in hell.

“So no answer?” Belial asked.

“Why should I give you excuses, Belial? You are not my master, you only dispense assignments. You are basically a secretary. And as soon as I was summoned I came.” Caim replied mildly. It gave him great pleasure to see the flaming anger turn red in the demon’s eyes.

“Your insolence will not be forgotten. One of these days my revenge will be swift.”

“Said the demon to the fallen angel who lives in hell with him.” Caim scoffed unconcerned. “Why was I summoned? Give me my assignment, secretary, and go back to making coffee.”

With a snarl reminiscent of a lion’s roar Belial was on his feet. His tail lashed the desk in front of him and spilt it in two. Black ooze flowed from the wood and talons sprouted from Belial’s hands. Gone was the perfect man. Now, the face of a demon was visible and pure in its hate.

Caim took battle stance. From his back, black wings ripped their way through the fabric of his shirt. In his hands appeared a black sword. If Belial wanted a fight he would give him one, feathers against scales.

More from Dahlia Rose at Changeling Press…