New Release: The Adorable Snowman by Stephanie Burke #ParanormalRomance @FlashyCat @changelingpress

Cover Art by Karen Fox

Serendipity Collins is minding her own business, driving along in West Virginia in the worst blizzard in years, when a strange creature appears out of nowhere and she runs him down.

Ta is on a mission to get away from the humans who captured him. He only wants to get back to the gate point to find a way home when he meets her — the mate of his dreams. Now he only has to convince her they are perfect for each other… if they can survive the hunters who are after him and battle Serendipity’s own private fears.

Ta is nothing but determined, Ren is nothing but stubborn, but before the storm comes to an end, maybe they will discover a way to make this fairy tale a reality and melt the ice that encases her heart.

Get it at Changeling Press

Preorder for March 12th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Stephanie Burke

“Holy shit.” Serendipity squinted at the shadowy figure running toward her RV. Who in their right mind would be out in this weather? Goodness knows she wasn’t anywhere close to right in the head. That was why she was somewhere near West Virginia, off Highway 85, trying to find a place to park. Any clearing would do at this point because the weather was becoming unpredictable, and visibility was nearly gone.

There were very few vehicles on the road, including salt trucks. And when the salt trucks stopped running you knew you were in deep shit.

But there was a figure, moving at a rapid clip, and coming straight for her — and he wasn’t stopping.

“Damn it,” she hissed, slamming on her brakes as the person stopped right in front of her. “Fuck!”

Her tiny RV started fishtailing, the back end whirling out of control as the back tires tried to find traction on a solid sheet of ice and snow. Quickly, she jerked the wheel in the direction the RV was skidding and began to tap the brakes, her hands and arms locked onto the steering wheel.

The RV began to spin, and Serendipity let out a squeal as it made a complete circle before hitting something with a loud thump and then sliding to a stop. Never had she ever been more grateful for a total lack of traffic. She sat there for a moment, her heart racing, breathing like a bellows before she recalled the thump.

“Shit!” she gasped, unclipping her safety belt and swinging the driver’s side door open.

An arctic blast of cold wind and hard snow hit her in the face and stole her breath. She looked around, the eerie pink/black color of the sky sending an ominous shiver up her spine, but she shook off the feeling of impending doom and stepped out into the storm.

It was like the wind was blowing sand instead of a snow/ice mix. Serendipity squinted as she looked over the road, her feet in their fuzzy blue boots slipping before finding purchase. She slid-walked over to where she thought she’d heard the thump and began to scan the area around her truck.

“Hello?” she called out, wrapping her arms around her body. The cold weather leached the heat from her skin. “Hello? Anybody? Are you hurt? Can you hear me?” The wind forced her words back at her like a slap, and she began to panic even more. Had she imagined everything? No. There was a man… she was sure of it.

Her body began to shake in reaction to the adrenaline building up in her system. Her eyes were watering. She prayed she had run over Bambi or something instead of a person.

“Hello?” She was about to give up her search and head back to the RV for a flashlight and her snowshoes when she heard a moan.

Spinning toward the moan almost landed her on her ass, but she managed to windmill her arms and plant her feet so she didn’t land on her butt as she moved toward the sound.

“Hello — Oh, sweet –“

There was a man lying in the snow.

She raced over, slipping and falling to her knees. Scrambling through the slushy buildup on the road, she came to a stop in front of a still form.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, reaching out to touch a bare shoulder. The person was lying on their side, his or her face obscured by a long tangled fall of white, curly hair.

The shoulder quivered and the moan sounded again. Serendipity rolled him — yes, that was a male face — onto his back.

“Hey.” She softened her voice as she brushed the wet hair from his face. “Hey,” she repeated, and his eyes opened. “Whoa.” She had never seen such pretty but strange eyes. They were gold, like a sunburst, and they were surrounded by a huge band of bright purple that almost matched the storm-torn sky.

“Whoa?” he repeated softly, blinking up at her before closing his eyes again.

“Hey, no! Don’t do that,” she begged. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“Sleep,” he repeated, his whole body shifting in the cold snow, like it was the most comfortable mattress and blanket he owned.

“No.” She shook his shoulder and his eyes opened again. “No sleep. Not out here.”

It was about then that she noticed her victim was totally nude. Covered by his fall of hair, it appeared that this guy was well built, and only his long locks hid his naughty bits. But her eyes should not dip down because she was the one who hit him in the first place.

“Oh, shit,” she gasped, amazed that he wasn’t blue and dying, as exposed as he was. She had to get him back to her RV before he froze.

“Hey.” She shook him again, hoping against hope he didn’t have any internal injuries. “We have to go.”

“Go,” he repeated, but this time he didn’t lie back down. This time his eyes stayed on her face for a good moment before he began to struggle to his feet.

“Yes, go.” She nodded, reaching out to grip his arm in both of hers, trying to haul him to his feet. “We need to go.”

After a cold moment that felt more like an eternity, Serendipity got him to his feet, and then she froze once more. Damn, he was tall.

Standing fully upright, he was about a foot taller than her five foot five. But she only had a moment to marvel because he began to stagger.

“Okay,” she crooned, not knowing if she was trying to calm him or herself. “We got this. We can do this.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

Preorder: Loved by a Kraken by Alexa Piper #DarkFantasy #ParanormalRomance @prowlingpiper @changelingpress

A demon and a coder find themselves falling in love while witches try to pull them apart.

Cover Art by Angela Knight

Fian needs to find a suitable plus one for his brother’s wedding, and since his demon brother is marrying a human, Fian decides to bring a human to the wedding as well. If he gets lucky, he might even find one who isn’t dull or dumb.

Kiara gave up her life in the city to move to a small town where she sells jams, except she isn’t sure why she did that. Coding was her love, and jams were not. Then, just after she broke up with her ex because he cheated on her, a handsome stranger walks into Kiara’s store and from there straight into her dreams.

While Fian discovers humans come in more flavors than he had thought, jealous witches close in on Fian and Kiara. Will the coder and the demon be able to find love despite the wicked magic? And are tentacles still amazing outside of dreams?

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3dgxYh2

Apple: https://apple.co/3prtA1c

Kobo: https://bit.ly/3quFQPN

Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/37k2F1c

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

Fian looked out over the sparkling ocean that sat like a bowl of diamonds beyond the shores of the Morpheus-Realm. In his human form, he heard the waves come crashing in and recede like an eternal, rhythmic drumbeat. Fian reached for a smooth teal rock the surf had dragged in and tossed it toward the lapping water. It fell short.

“Fuck it,” Fian said. He could feel the anger shift his skin color from normal human to blues and greens. “I’ve had enough of that pompous ass.”

The pompous ass in question was Fian’s brother, just as demonic as Fian, but much prettier with his shark skin and sleep-deep mako eyes.

They had met two hours earlier at the carnival, upon Mikano’s request. Fian had assumed it had something to do with the Human Liaison Unit Mikano was a member of, a band of singularly skilled demons who helped other demons with measured demonic behavior so that humans could continue to believe the demons of the Morpheus-Realm were, in fact, just things that popped up in their dreams.

In the Morpheus-Realm, the rules of physics and reason were somewhat malleable, though Mikano could have explained the metaphysics perfectly, could have even given a mathematical example. The carnival was bright with colorful balloons and demons that could shape their limbs like stretchy dough. One could hop into a large soap bubble and find themself drifting over the spectacle until it broke and cotton candy — brightly pink and sticking sweetly to one’s skin — broke one’s fall. Eel demons drew electric sparks from their bodies and formed them into animals that walked or flew or breathed fire. A jellyfish demon read the dreamers’ palms and told their fortunes while her hair remained shifted to the ephemeral and luminous veil of her demonic jellyfish self.

Fian and Mikano had opted for the Ferris wheel rather than sharing a soap bubble. It was always entertaining to watch dreamers squeal when the bubbles broke, and the Ferris wheel offered a clear line of sight. Mikano was munching away on a bucket of caramel popcorn.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Fian knew Mikano was smug in the way only older demon brothers can be, but he’d looked especially smug today.

“Well, Tickle –” Fian had flinched at the childhood nickname. “– I am in love.”

As it had turned out, his sharp-toothed brother had found a human — a surfer of all things — for whom Mikano had fallen, fins over teeth. Fian had no explicit intel on the surfer’s feelings, but since Fian had been roped in as Mikano’s best man for a kitschy beachside wedding, he supposed there was at least exasperated defeat there. Nightmares knew exasperated defeat was Fian’s default when it came to feelings about Mikano.

Fian, thinking over the meeting on the Ferris wheel while the ocean in front of him looked calm as ever, reached for another rock, deep vermilion and blood warm. His agitation made his hand shift and the suckers of his kraken nature appear there. The rock tasted of salt and darkness. He tossed it, but he couldn’t quite detach his suckers in time, and the rock just slammed into the surf-wet beach, a half a tentacle length short of the teal one.

“Fuck it,” he told the rock. “I need a plus one.”

GIVEAWAY

For a chance to win a handmade bookmark by Harley Wylde, do one of two things (to double your chances, do both):

1)         Leave a comment.

2)         Subscribe to Alexa Piper’s Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gRJq3T

The giveaway will run from March 4 to March 12 and is open to US residents only. The winner will be announced here and in my March 13 newsletter and must provide a mailing address in the US to receive the prize. Winners must be at least 18 years old. No purchase necessary to enter. Void where prohibited.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. She loves writing series, and her Fairview Chronicles follow a ragtag gang of supernaturals who try to make their city safer. Mostly. Her second series, Dusk & Dawn, explores banter and the trappings of a world in which Vampires, Werewolves, and the Fae live alongside humans. Elvenswood Tales is a new series that expands the Fairview universe.

Website: www.alexapiper.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gRJq3T
Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AlexaPiperWrites/
Fb group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/255026848996374/?source_id=106711636486332
Twitter: @ProwlingPiper
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/piperthewriter/
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alexa-piper

Arkham/Along Came a Demon by Marteeka Karland #ContemporaryRomance @MarteekaKarland @changelingpress

Bones or Demons, no one messes with our women or they face nasty consequences.

Arkham (Bones MC 5)
Rain — When a team of rough looking men start nosing around the slums of Rockwell, I make it my business to know what they’re up to. One in particular catches my eye. I want him. And when I let him take me, I’ll savor the experience until it’s time to go.

Arkham — The little pixie warrior’s strong and capable but scarred inside and out. I’ll take her to Bones MC, where she’ll be protected. But who’s gonna protect her from me?

Along Came A Demon (Shadow Demons 1) A Bones MC Romance
Merrily has no idea what her father has done, but he’s managed to throw her and little Bellarose into the middle of a mob war. A desperate flight lands her in the arms of Alexei Petrov. The man is everything she knows she can never have, but she wants him with every fiber of her being. Just who are these demons in the night, and why does she welcome this one’s embrace?

Billionaire Alexei Petrov is part of an elite group, The Shadow Demons — Vigilantes hell-bent on protecting their city. Which is how he finds the most desirable women he’s ever seen. One problem. She’s on the run from the mob.

**WARNING** The men of Bones MC and Shadow Demons can be violent, but they’re protective to a fault, and they’ll do whatever they have to, to protect the women they love. If you think you can handle their brand of loving, read on!

Get the paperback at Amazon!

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Marteeka Karland
Excerpt from Arkham

“What the fuck are we still doin’ here? We cleared this sector yesterday.” Arkham wasn’t usually one to complain, but this micromanaging shit was for the birds.

“You pay, we come play.” Torpedo was the top man in the field on this mission. He and Arkham took point as they walked down the street. They weren’t in Afghanistan or Tripoli, or Ukraine. They were in a moderately sized city in the good ole U. S. of A. called Rockwell. ExFil had been hired by a group of disgustingly rich hero wannabes to help locate a runaway. Kid had been missing for three days, and his mother, who was a member of the staff of said disgustingly rich hero wannabes, was more than frantic. They insisted the child was in this area of the city. How they knew that he didn’t know, but orders were orders.

“How the fuck do these guys know that kid’s in this part of town?” Goose had been vocal about his protests from the get-go. All of it because of the micromanaging. “We’ve searched high and low. The kid ain’t here.”

“It’s not like we’ve got anything else to do. We’re gettin’ paid by the hour. They want us to look here, we look here.” Shadow was the newest patched member of Bones and probably the most levelheaded and calm person Arkham knew. “We just flex some muscle if we see anything suspicious and be ready to bean someone if they need it.”

“Yeah. Way wide latitude,” Arkham grumbled. “I don’t like this.”

“Cain knows these guys personally,” Torpedo said. “If he says go, we go. We follow orders.”

“Ain’t never been good at following orders.” The back of Arkham’s neck was tingling like a son of a bitch. Never a good sign. “’Specially not from no pretty-boy, badass wannabe.”

“My understanding,” Torpedo explained, “is that these guys are the real deal. Seems Cain served briefly with Azriel Ivanovich. He’s part owner of Argent Tech.”

“The company that makes all those pretty gadgets Data is always forcing us to use? I hate the bastard already.” Arkham wasn’t opposed to technology per se, he just hated being forced into it. “Most of that shit is just used to dumb down the real work. I mean, I can fuckin’ shoot straight and follow a compass. And I don’t need a fuckin’ leash shoved up my ass in the form of one of those fancy GPS things he hardwired into our radios and phones. Hell, even our fuckin’ bikes are tracked. Where’s the end?”

“You’ll have to take that up with Data and Cain.” Torpedo shrugged, his body posture letting Arkham know Torpedo was just as vigilant as he was, even while carrying on the conversation. “I just make sure you use it.”

“Next thing you know he’ll be wantin’ to tag us with some kind of chip under our skin.”

“It’s already being discussed.”

Arkham stopped dead in his tracks. “I will bust a motherfucker up.”

Torpedo looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Gotcha.”

Everyone laughed.

“Motherfucker.”

Though he continued the disgruntled conversation, Arkham was only half paying attention to his brothers. Their actual mission was extremely vague. All they seemed to do was patrol the poorest section of the city and give people mean looks. They’d questioned every single person they saw, but no one had seen the boy. Arkham had no idea if he believed any of them or not.

The streets were mostly dark at night. Though the streetlights were replaced almost daily, by the end of the day they’d all be broken out again. Drug deals routinely went down in rundown buildings in the process of being renovated, though the team from ExFil had stopped some of it during their search. Drug sales continued regardless. Arkham thought Bones more suited to this than ExFil, but their employer had insisted on the paramilitary version. While Bones was the rough and ready MC, ExFil was the more disciplined and civilian accepted military-like organization run by Cain. This city needed the military, not the outlaws. Conditions had seemed to improve somewhat, but there was still a long way to go. Oh, well. Not his turf. Not his problem.

“How the fuck did a place like Argent Tech end up in this shit hole? It’s no bigger than Somerset and has way less to offer. Not to mention at least a third of the city is nothing more than slums. These people certainly don’t benefit from the tech giant.” Shadow had that part right.

“I agree, brother,” Arkham said. “Not sure what our goal here is, but it seems like more of a policing effort than searching for a missing kid. I’m ready to tell ‘em all to shove it up their ass.”

“The point is for us to give Ivanovich and his associates the help they need in locatin’ a missin’ child. And they are tryin’ to better the place.”

“You’re just trying to defend Cain’s decision to take this job, Torpedo,” Arkham groused. “You don’t like it any more than we do. If they’d let us do this our way, we might have found the kid already. That’s what’s pissin’ me off.”

“Ain’t sayin’ you’re right. Ain’t sayin’ you’re wrong. But if you don’t shut the fuck up about it, I will turn Suzie on your ass so quick it will make your head spin. Stunner might have let her use most of the red and green glitter on him, but I know where there’s a whole fuckin’ tub of pink glitter, and I’ll point her in the right direction.”

That got a laugh from everyone. Evan Arkham snorted. “Harsh, brother,” he grumbled.

They passed the next hour in silence. Still, that tingle between Arkham’s shoulder blades persisted. They were being watched. Had been since they’d gotten off the Goddamned plane. “When I find that son of a bitch, Imma throw him a beatin’.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Goose had turned and was facing away from them now, guarding their six as they slowed their trek down the sidewalk.

“Someone’s been watchin’ us since the second we got off the fuckin’ plane.” Arkham tried to watch his area, but he knew the threat was from above. Now that he’d mentioned it, he gave up all pretense of pretending not to be actively seeking their stalker. He raised his gun to the rooftops, putting his infrared goggles in place. Everyone followed his lead.

“I thought I was just being paranoid,” Goose muttered.

“No.” Arkham had learned long ago to listen when that sensation was trying to tell him something.

Just as they rounded the corner, Arkham spotted him. “Got the bastard,” he muttered. “Two o’clock, theater roof. He’s got a rifle scope, but I can’t confirm a weapon.”

“Copy that,” Torpedo said. “Shadow, you and Arkham fall back. See if you can go up the back way and get him from behind. We’ll patrol the alley to the west. If he follows us, should be easy pickin’s for you guys.”

“Radios on,” Arkham ordered. “I’m not losing anyone to a rookie mistake.”

“Got it,” Shadow and Goose confirmed on top of each other.

“Up the east side. And don’t kill him unless he deserves it.”

“He already deserves it for giving me a headache, “Arkham said, readying his rifle.

“Bastard has it coming.” Torpedo didn’t argue. Arkham was a hard ass, but he wouldn’t make a kill unless it was warranted. They all knew it and didn’t insult him by suggesting otherwise.

Shadow was the best partner he could have for a situation like this. The man’s special talent was disappearing into the shadows. Hence his name. Arkham was good, but he let Shadow take the lead on this one. If Arkham was spotted, Shadow would already be in position to defend him. It hurt to admit the big man was better than Arkham at anything, but truth hurts sometimes. Only meant Arkham would be working on that particular skill set even harder.

It took them seven minutes to gain the roof and another one to lay eyes on the target. He was slender, small. A boy? Arkham stayed put for several minutes. Shadow followed his lead, not breaking cover before Arkham gave the word.

The kid followed the perimeter of the roof, never taking his eyes from the team below. If he knew they were light two men, the kid didn’t seem overly concerned. He stopped right next to Arkham. He could have reached out and touched the boy. Two more steps, and he’d run into Arkham. Instead, he stopped, never taking his eye from the scope.

“You’re all clear,” the kid said. “They’ve made a circle around the theater. All four of them. If you’re going to take them, now’s the time.”

Three things registered for Arkham. First, his team was about to be ambushed by an unknown number of hostiles. Second, the kid wasn’t a boy. It was a girl. Third, she was deliberately deceiving whomever she was talking to.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

The Square and the Circle by Mikala Ash #steampunk #RomanticSuspense @Ash_Mikala

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

A murder at a séance. In an age of rationalism and science, spiritualism has taken hold of the popular imagination. At the home of Lord and Lady Summerhayes, a séance ends in a horrific climax — a man is drowned in ectoplasm! Impossible! But there’s nothing Elizabeth Hunter-Payne and her Investigation Bureau like better than to investigate an impossible mystery.

Victor Drake was at the table and tried to save the hapless victim. His smoldering good looks and irresistible allure take Elizabeth’s fancy, and her carnal desires are reciprocated. Together, can they solve the mystery? Another thrilling adventure set in a steampunk world of airships, steam-powered aircraft, and swords disguised as lavender umbrellas.

Get it Today at Changeling Press

Preorder for March 5th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Mikala Ash

Lavender Umbrellas and Death at a Séance

Tuesday, January 10, 1860

“A murder at a séance,” I repeated incredulously. “A séance? You mean ghosts and such?”

Lord Arthur Summerhayes was an elegantly dressed white-haired man in his early seventies. A military background I surmised, as he wore enormous and immaculately clipped side whiskers, made popular by troops returning from the Crimea. In his youth, and clean-shaven, I believe he would have been a handsome man.

“Indeed I do, Mrs. Hunter-Payne. I’m talking spiritualism, mediums, apparitions, spirit controls from beyond the veil, and communicating with the beloved dead. The whole battalion, if you have my meaning.”

I was taken aback by the notion, and I struggled for a response. I knew spiritualism had become a popular pastime lately despite this being the age of rationalism, and surrounded as we were by very real advances in science and engineering. Airships droning away above the city and steam-powered aircraft patrolling the clouds were common sights now, as were Cumberland cabs steaming along every street and thoroughfare. Submarines skulked beneath the waves, and automatons had even entered domestic service. The list of technological marvels was endless. Gone for the most part was the age of horse and carriage in which I had been born.

I’d read in The Times that after the war in the Crimea, and the more recent mutiny in India, both of which incurred such great loss of life, there had arisen an ever growing desire of the bereaved to contact their lost loved ones. Spiritualists, those purporting to be able to contact the spirits of the dead, had conveniently materialised to meet the demand.

Séances, as I understood them, were ritualised gatherings of people in a darkened room sitting in silence around a table, holding hands, awaiting a spirit to contact them through the auspices of a medium. For some it was an amusement; merely a parlour game. For others it was an earnest and sorrow-fuelled desire to contact lost loved ones. Newspapers made light of the pastime, ridiculing believers and taking particular glee in exposing frauds and charlatans. The church proclaimed it sacrilegious, no doubt believing the practice subverted their monopoly over the afterlife.

That was the extent of my knowledge and my interest. I understood quite intimately the emotional need of the bereaved to have some form of contact with their loved ones. My thoughts rested always with my late husband Jonathan who had been killed in the Crimean War. I had given the possibility of actually contacting him scant regard, thinking it slightly foolish whenever the thought arose. Though I would give anything to see him again, and know for certain he was at peace, I admit to being highly sceptical of the notion of mediums being able to accomplish the task. Jonathan lived in my mind, and in my dreams; an ever-present reminder of the deepest love and consuming passion I could ever hope to experience. I glanced at his portrait, and my longing for his company struck me like a blow to the chest.

“I need your help,” Lord Summerhayes said urgently. His face was creased in anxiety, his faded blue eyes pleading. “Or my wife and I shall be ruined. Not that I care for myself. I am old, ready for whatever is next. It is for my wife that I fear.”

“I’ve not any experience in spiritualism,” I said carefully, in case Lord Summerhayes was a believer.

“Devil of a thing. Absolute nonsense, of course,” he said. “But murder nonetheless. Man drowned by ectoplasm.”

Just in time I stopped myself from appearing particularly obtuse by repeating the unfamiliar word. I was aware, however, of my mouth hanging open and thought that I must appear quite vacuous.

His lordship continued. “In my own drawing room, would you believe. Terrible slimy stuff. Ruined the carpet. Dashed inconvenient.”

Until that astounding announcement my morning had progressed prosaically enough, though it did bring with it a touch of novelty.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.

Merlin’s Legacy Vol. 2 (paperback) by Angela Knight #DarkFantasy @AngelaKnight

Aliens, vampire Knights of the Round Table, and a wolf in her Burning Moon. Love can be complicated.

Master of Passion: When blue-skinned aliens try to kidnap combat news cameraman Adam Parker, the attempt is foiled by a sword-swinging Knight of the Round Table and his witch partner. However once the vampire knight removes his helmet, Adam realizes Sir Baldulf is the father who abandoned him and his mother. Ulf swears he and Opal Cassidy are Adam’s only hope of survival, but Adam wants nothing to do with either of them. Opal doesn’t want anything to do with the handsome, cynical mortal, either. But orders are orders, so seduction it is.

Master of Honor: Cheryl Parker thought she was an ordinary woman — a nurse, a mother, a single parent. Now an alien spirit who has made her immortal. And not only is her ex back, he’s really Sir Baldulf, a vampire Knight of the Round Table. The good news is, he still loves Cheryl. The bad news is, he thinks the creature inhabiting her is a potential threat to humanity. The worst news is, there is a threat — and it could well kill them all.

Master of Desire: Half-Sidhe billionaire Conal Donovan’s rich people problems include his ex, evil Fairy goddess Siobhan, who sends a team of werewolf terrorists kill his family. He’s rescued by Helena Baker, African American, former FBI agent, and wolf-shifter, who’s best friend is a gun inhabited by a retired death god, so she can handle werewolves. She’s less sure about the handsome white guy with the talking phoenix and the relentless commitment to protecting his sisters. Especially considering that she’s in her Burning Moon — the werewolf version of heat. Her pheromones make Conal just as interested in her as she is in him. But is their growing love real? And what will happen when the hormones wear off?

Get it at Amazon

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight
Excerpt from Master of Desire

“I’m hungry.”

“You just ate. Last week you had two Fomorians and a troll.” Helena Baker turned the page, trying to concentrate on her romance novel. The roses that covered the arched wooden arbor cast cool, sweet-smelling shade over the pages. Maeve’s palace was surrounded by glorious gardens, and the arbor’s cushioned wooden bench was her favorite spot to enjoy them.

She glanced up from her book. The palace looming over the trees was breathtaking in its fluid Sidhe architecture, white marble blazing in the golden afternoon sunlight. I’m living in a Fairy tale. When she remembered she used to be an FBI agent, it was enough to give her psychic whiplash.

“That was last week. I’m hungry now.”

“What you are is bored.” Why wouldn’t he shut up? She was almost at the good part. Sexy, threatening Daegan was about to dominate Gideon. These days reading a BDSM romance was the closest she came to getting any. And she needed some. So, so bad. Her Burning Moon hormones were driving her insane. Swear to God, it gets worse every year.

“But it’s your job to provide for me.” His voice was way too close to a whine.

“My ‘job’ to keep you from killing people.” Turning the page, she glared down at him. “Would you please let me read my book in peace? Or do I need to put you in the Box?”

“All right, all right! You get so bitchy this time of year.” His tone brightened. “Maybe we could release some of that pent-up aggression by hunting a serial killer. Remember that DCN piece about those murders in…”

She held up one finger, frowning. “Hear that?”

“What?” Liam said.

“It’s the Box, calling your name.”

“But…”

“That’s it!” Helena picked up the Desert Eagle and started to stuff him into the enchanted holster on her belt. “You’re getting quality time in the gun safe.” An hour in the Box would shut him up and give her a little privacy for a foursome with Daegan, Gideon and her new vibrator.

Liam promptly turned into a rocket launcher. She almost dropped him before she managed to get a good grip again. “The hell? You trying to shoot me in the head?”

“Of course not.” Lacking vocal cords — or a mouth, for that matter — he had to use magic to generate speech. “You’re my priestess.”

“For the last time, I’m not your damn priestess. I’m your keeper, and my job is to make sure you don’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve to die. If I weren’t immune to magic, you’d be trying to convince me to shoot myself.”

“I’d never do that. You’re the best priestess I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, in the sense I’m the only one you haven’t managed to kill. Yet.”

“I am a death deity.”

“A retired death deity. You swore to obey me, Liam. Change. Back.”

“Fine. Keep your flea collar on!” Sparks exploded, leaving behind a very ladylike Smith & Wesson with a pink grip.

Helena glared down at him. “Now you’re just being insulting.”

“Helena?” Maeve’s voice rang out over the garden, sharp and urgent. “Where are you?” Normally the Mother of Fairies could sense anyone on the palace grounds, but her magic rolled off Helena like water off a mallard.

Helena’s head snapped up as she rose from the bench, gun in hand. “Here! What’s wrong?”

“Werewolves have captured Conal Donovan.”

Liam cursed in a language that had been dead since the last ice age. Thrusting him into his belt holster, Helena leaped into a dead run. “Coming!” Conal Donovan might be a Changeling — half human, half Sidhe — but he’d also saved the life of Maeve’s granddaughter at considerable risk to his own. That was the kind of debt the Mother of Fairies took seriously. Since the goddess’s magic had no effect on werewolves, rescuing him would fall to Helena.

Maeve rounded a topiary unicorn and strode between towering mounds of Mageverse blooms toward Helena. Six feet, six inches of sculpted, regal beauty, the goddess radiated power like a storm front. Gleaming green hair fell around her shoulders, pulled back and bound with thin braids to reveal the elegant points of her ears. An emerald-green leather vest hugged her full breasts and bared powerful biceps, while matching leather pants and thigh-high boots made her muscled legs look even longer.

She was every bit the badass she looked, which was why the grim look on her face made Helena’s blood run cold. “What happened?”

“A team of werewolves broke into Conal’s house.” Maeve’s voice was clipped and crisp, but her peridot eyes held worry. “Essus was injured in the fight, but he managed to open a link to me. He says he can hear Conal screaming.” Her mouth tightened. “They’re torturing him.”

How many wolves?” Helena thrust away the memory of blowtorch pain as fangs ripped into her belly. Looking down to see a coil of something red…

“At least ten. But there’s worse news.” Her jaw flexed. “I tried to open a gate and couldn’t.”

“Siobhan,” Liam spat. The magical geas that bound Maeve and her daughter insured neither could use magic in anything directly involving the other. It was a devil’s bargain from Maeve’s point of view, but she’d have agreed to worse to save her granddaughter. Otherwise Siobhan would have killed the little girl despite Conal’s efforts to save her.

Unfortunately, the geas did nothing to protect Conal, which was apparently why Siobhan had gone after him. She had an uncanny instinct for the best way to hurt her mother. But why now? Helena wondered. It had been thirty years, for God’s sake. Figure it out after you save the hostage. “We’ll take care of it. Where’s Conal now?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Angela Knight’s romance writing career began in 1996, when she realized her dream of romance publication with Red Sage’s Secrets anthology. She is a New York Times best-selling author of more than fifty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Time Hunters series. Her career spans twenty plus years. Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine gave her a Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for best erotic romance and best werewolf romance.

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

ArrowStruck by Alexa Piper #RomCom #ParanormalRomance @prowlingpiper

Laurette is the luckiest Elf in all of New Elvenswood. His longtime friend the vampire Hugo and the human non-witch Charlie are both in love with Laurette, and he’s in love with them. Everything would be perfect if only those two would finally decide to move in with Laurette, quit their jobs, and spend all their time with him. And Laurette has plans to sway his lovers’ minds on Valentine’s Day.

Charlie finds herself tightly suspended between the attentions of one hot Elf and one hot vampire, and there is no place she would rather be. And then, a colleague decides he wants to claim Charlie, whether she’s in a relationship or not.

Enter Cupid, mistress of arrows and bringer of love, because loving the right person is especially important with spring warming hungry hearts… except not everyone agrees with the accuracy of Cupid’s aim.

Buy the Book:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2XOODzk

Apple: https://apple.co/3bPRlg5

Kobo: https://bit.ly/39BYH40

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Changeling Press: https://bit.ly/3bS6Bt8

Excerpt:

Arrow Struck (Elvenswood Tales 2)

Chapter One

The kitchen smelled wonderful, a cacophony of vanilla and cinnamon and chocolate. Yet Laurette had to admit that it looked more like an entrenched warzone with the large, centermost kitchen island being occupied by the freshly iced cakes on one side and by neat lines of cookies cooling on their racks on the other. What Laurette didn’t have to admit was that he was stress baking.

He turned his back on the kitchen island and faced the bain-marie in front of him where luscious chunks of chocolate were melting to velvety softness.

“Gertrude!” Laurette barked. “Bring some of the cakes into one of the sitting rooms. I need the space. And send Heinrich to go out and get more candy hearts.” Wait. I can make heart-shaped pralines. With a touch of insta-lust magic in the filling. “And marzipan! I am making pralines.”

“Milord, there are cakes in the sitting rooms already.” Gertrude had marched up to his elbow, her pointy hat just reaching up to the middle of Laurette’s upper arm. She was finally wearing the Valentine’s Day outfit Laurette had chosen for his pixie servants this year, a warm, raspberry pink with a tasteful line of darker hearts along the neck- and hemlines. They all looked wonderful in it.

“Well, I am not done baking yet, Gertrude. Find someplace to put the cakes.” And I need more berries. Well. I cannot head to Faerie to pick berries before I do a test batch of the pralines. Why do the high holidays have to be so stressful if all you want to do is charm your lovers? And why do my lovers have to be so difficult! “And send Kris out for more gold leaf. Tell them to get double what they did last time, and cane sugar as well.”

While having two lovers and caring for them certainly turned Laurette’s days — and his nights — less leisurely, he wouldn’t want to change any of that. Hugo was a prize he had sought for so long, but while it was just the two of them, the stubborn vampire humanist with the time consuming hobby of tending to people’s medical needs, had never crossed that borderline of friendship.

It had taken for Hugo to find Charlie and properly fall for the human non-witch born to a witch family to finally burn that border to ashes and make Laurette — Hugo’s closest Elven friend — into more than just a friend. And Charlie herself was dazzling in her own ways, her tastes contrasting Laurette’s, sometimes to his frustration when she wouldn’t let him tame her messy bun into something a little more sculpted, sometimes to his delight when she kissed Laurette as if she needed him like air or water.

Yet, she too was following her own hobbyist pursuits, heaping her attention on old manuscripts in the University Library’s archives. Laurette had never grown to like the building, and imagining Charlie there did strike an odd chord with his sensibilities. He would have much rather built her a nicer library to consume her days. Ideally, however, Laurette’s human lover would see the benefit in focusing on creating words and books to hold them rather than tending to the writings of others. I hope I can convince her of that, he thought.

Gertrude took three slow breaths, which pulled Laurette from his thoughts. “Would it be possible to send one or two of the cakes to the library? Perhaps milady would enjoy sharing them with her colleagues.”

Laurette stirred the chocolate. Ah, ready to pour over the pomegranate cookies like hot wax over a bare thigh. “That is actually not a bad idea. I need to write a card to go with the cake if we are sending it to Charlie at work.” If I get her to finally move in here, I need to make sure she gets regular flower deliveries to the office too so she doesn’t think me complacent. In fact, I should just switch to regular flower deliveries for her, period. “I should try making blood pralines to send Hugo, lest my silly vampire feels I single Charlie out with my doting.” I would send him flowers as well, but he’ll complain his delicate patients cannot tolerate the pollen or some silliness.

“You do dote on her a lot,” Gertrude pointed out.

Laurette turned to face the cookies with the melted chocolate, ready to do some drizzling. “Of course I do. The darling is human still, because Dr. Hugo has morals or some such thing. Get Dinner in here for some bloodletting and see if we have a suitable card while you prepare the cake for the library. The champagne and peach, I think.” The cookies looked appealing with the chocolate still warm and dripping off the edges. I’d like to have Charlie here to taste them so that I can taste the chocolate off her lips after. But this loneliness is what I get for picking lovers with hobbies. They called it work, of course, but that did little to change the facts. “We are packing some of these cookies as well, Gertrude.”

“Of course we are,” the pixie said. Then she finally went to find a suitable card and pass along his orders to the others. Dinner, the Fae who served as Hugo’s blood source while the vampire was spending more time at Laurette’s house, could be heard groaning when Gertrude informed him his blood was wanted in the kitchen. Dinner was not the most voluntary of blood sources.

It was a little over a week till Valentine’s Day, and Laurette was uncertain it was enough time to finish his preparations. After all, his ultimate goal was to sway at least one of his lovers to end their silly living arrangements and move into his house, and everything just had to be perfect for that.

* * *

~

Arrow Struck (Elvenswood Tales 2)
Alexa Piper
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

About Alexa Piper:

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. She loves writing series, and her Fairview Chronicles follow a ragtag gang of supernaturals who try to make their city safer. Mostly. Her second series, Dusk & Dawn, explores banter and the trappings of a world in which Vampires, Werewolves, and the Fae live alongside humans. Elvenswood Tales is a new series that expands the Fairview universe.

Website: www.alexapiper.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gRJq3T
Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AlexaPiperWrites/
Fb group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/255026848996374/?source_id=106711636486332

Twitter: @ProwlingPiper
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/piperthewriter/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alexa-piper

A Naughty Creation (Fairview Chronicles 6) by Alexa Piper #paranormalromance @ProwlingPiper

A Naughty Creation (Fairview Chronicles 6)

Aife has been pulled out of her own time into the present day, and is struggling with a strange new world she can hardly comprehend. The only constant that she knows, the only person that can even being to understand her, is Myrtis. Yet Myrtis is a vampire who hides his true feelings all too easily.

Myrtis knows loneliness and has sought it out. He knows the pain of love and loss even better. He swore to Aife that he would help her fit into this time. Loving her wasn’t what he anticipated when he met the druid, but it isn’t a feeling he will deny.

Elsewhere in the city, a creature brought back from the dead is longing for his freedom from the necromacress who reanimated him. Draining a druid’s power might just be the way to accomplish that, and so the creature sets out to become free, because alive simply isn’t enough.

Changeling: https://bit.ly/2WQ7wkY

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3oS0ZlN

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Apple: https://apple.co/385dLqh

Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/3oQlOhe

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

Aife paced through the midnight dark house, her bare feet hardly making a sound on the clean, smooth floor. There were a few lamps on, which was one of the new words she had learned since she had been dragged forward in time not two months ago. She now lived with a vampire in a townhouse and still had to get used to wearing jeans and drinking coffee. Focusing on the words helped, because more often than not, the things themselves were just too strange to comprehend, and Aife had thought more than once that her ignorance and stoic acceptance of them was easier than asking about the strangeness, never mind that Myrtis was always willing to explain whatever Aife did choose to ask with that unnatural patience he had.

Aife walked into the kitchen, her eyes drifting over to the refrigerator and the coffee machine on the counter. If she just focused on the words for these things rather than the things themselves, her head was often busy enough to not remember the life she had been dragged away from when a powerful spell had pulled her to the here and now. Focused on the words, she almost didn’t remember that her sister was long dead, and she almost forgot to imagine how hard it would have been for her sister, taking over the role of druid after Aife had just vanished, and her knowledge with her.

Tears were rolling down Aife’s cheek, and she quickly brushed them away.

“You are a night owl,” Myrtis said from the entrance to the kitchen. His blue eyes caught some of the faint light, which also shimmered down the length of his straight, black hair. His dark face, unusually matched with the brightness of his eyes, was void of expression. Myrtis had approached silently, because there were very few things Myrtis didn’t do in complete silence. Aife had thought she’d gotten used to it several times, but then Myrtis had made her jump, and she’d realized that the vampire still had the better of her.

Aife wiped her face with her hand before she turned fully toward him. “What is night owl?” she said, carefully following the sounds she’d heard.

“A person who likes being up at night. The word has two parts, night and owl.” He added the word for owl in her native tongue, a tongue that had died as Myrtis had explained, just like everything else Aife had known. It lived only between her and the ancient vampire now, and Aife was learning to think in English.

Night owl,” she said, tracing the feeling the word left in her mouth once more.

“Correct. Would you like some company, little night owl?” He stepped into the kitchen, though not in a way that felt oppressive. He also was no longer standing in the door, so if Aife wanted, she could just leave.

“I was crying, and you interrupted me,” Aife said, in her own language once more. With time, she had dropped some of the formality and was now addressing him as she might a friend.

The tall vampire’s bright eyes in his dark face shone as he took a step closer to Aife, though the fringe of his hair partially muted the intensity of his gaze tonight. Even without the silence and the vampiric strength, Myrtis was striking.

“I interrupted your crying in loneliness, Aife,” he said in that same, long-dead language, using a familiar address as well. “And I offer you my shoulder for all further tears you wish to shed.”

He got like that sometimes, and Aife wasn’t yet sure if she should send him off and tell him to keep his own company for presuming she desired his, or if she should just soak his beautiful clothing through with all her tears. She had never yet dared the latter, because the clothes of this age were all finespun stuff, finer than even the best weavers Aife knew could ever have hoped to produce. They were too fine for a simple druid like her, who had failed her people by leaving them, to suddenly own so many of them. Or that was what she told herself.

“Perhaps we can read a little,” Aife said, switching back to English. The way people lived now, the way they dressed… Yes, that was strange. It was downright foreign even, but reading fascinated Aife. The way a thought could jump from one head to the other through time and space by just those few lines on paper or even a screen — that was magic, just like the kennings Aife had learned ever since she’d been big enough for her mother to teach her the magic. Reading brought a rush like divining from the bronze rods did, the ones Aife used to use for her scrying and fortune-telling. Except the words caught like ghost thoughts on the paper held a different fascination for her. She had loved and was loving every minute of learning the skill of reading and writing.

“Certainly,” Myrtis said. He stepped aside and held an arm out for her to walk ahead of him. He had explained to her this was respectful and a show of good manners, and Aife had wrestled down the unease. Myrtis was a vampire still, and she had grown up with warnings to be mindful of turning her back to someone like him.

They read in a small room with glass walls on three sides. Myrtis had told her that it was one of the many charming oddities of the house. It wasn’t a proper winter garden, because it was too small, he had explained. Myrtis had called it a slice of a winter garden. It was just big enough for the couch and plants in pots sitting on the tiled floor or hanging suspended from the ceiling.

Aife sat and pulled her legs up on the couch while Myrtis reached for a book from the pile on the floor at his side. He turned on the reading lamp behind them, and Aife blinked at the sudden brightness. When the bright spots cleared out of her vision, she found that Myrtis had stilled completely, his gaze focused on her.

“What?” she said.

“You remind me of someone sometimes.”

“Is that… good?” She had to ask, because Myrtis hardly bothered to let emotions show on his face.

“Yes,” he said after a pause, but didn’t elaborate. “Here. Somewhere Beneath the Stars. Not easy, but worth the effort.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. She loves writing series, and her Fairview Chronicles follow a ragtag gang of supernaturals who try to make their city safer. Mostly. Her second series, Dusk & Dawn, explores banter and the trappings of a world in which Vampires, Werewolves, and the Fae live alongside humans.

Website: www.alexapiper.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gRJq3T
Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/AlexaPiperWrites/
Fb group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/255026848996374/?source_id=106711636486332

Twitter: @ProwlingPiper
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/piperthewriter/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alexa-piper

Preorder: Mad, Bad Bear by Kenna McKay & Jessica Coulter Smith #shifters #paranormalromance @AuthorKMcKay @kitcatjms

Cover Art by Angela Knight

Jessalyn Delaney has only known pain at the hands of her shifter ex-husband, a coyote who thrived on making her scream. When a brash Highland bear shifter insists she’s his destined mate, she knows better than to go down that path again. Except Tavish isn’t anything like her ex, and she can’t ignore how much she yearns for his touch.

Tavish MacBride is determined to claim his mate and her cubs, even if she’s human. The fact that her ex is causing problems is easily enough handled. As a bear, Tavish isn’t afraid of shedding a little blood. When the coyote harms his mate, Tavish knows he’ll have no choice but to take the shifter out. But first, he has a mate to claim… and what a claiming it will be!

Author’s Note: Mad, Bad Bear has a few violent scenes, bad language, and an alpha bear shifter who knows how to make his mate beg for more. There’s a guaranteed Happily Ever After, and no cliffhanger.

Available January 8th at Changeling Press or January 15th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Kenna McKay & Jessica Coulter Smith

Jess didn’t know why she’d thought she could escape. Eighteen years of marriage, of torment and fear, and she’d thought she was finally free. But could he let her go? No. It wasn’t enough that he’d dragged things out and not signed the divorce papers for months, but now he’d followed her to Scotland. It had sounded so simple. Take a trip with her girlfriends to get away for a while, leave the kids at home with the grandparents, but it was fast turning into a nightmare.

Nicholas didn’t seem to have any interest in the kids, even though they’d seen their fair share of his special kind of attention over the years. She didn’t understand why he wanted her back. Love had been missing from their marriage for a long time, if it had ever truly existed. All he did was belittle her, and that was on a good day. The other days he let his fists do the talking.

She felt the Scotsman approach, had noticed him the previous night, but the last thing she needed was a hookup. Men were the bane of her existence and she was much better off without one, right? Maybe if she found a nice man someday, one who would treat her kids like they were his own, then maybe she could see herself giving love another try. Too bad there wasn’t some magical way to know you were destined to be with someone.

“Lass.”

She refused to look up at him. If she ignored him, would he go back to the bar?

Gently, he pinched her chin between his large fingers and turned her to face him. She saw the concern and anger in his eyes when he noticed the bruise on her cheek. It wasn’t like she could hide it.

“What happened, lass? Who did this to you?” he asked.

“We don’t need your help,” her friend Monica said, a hand on her hip. “Just go back to your buddies at the bar. If you’re looking for a quick lay, you won’t find it here.”

The Scotsman held her steady gaze, his hand still gently holding her chin. “I’ll nae hurt her. I want to help.”

“You can’t help me,” Jess said. “No one can.”

“Now, lass. That cannae be true. I swear it, if you tell me who did this to you, I’ll see you avenged.”

Her eyes widened a little. “Avenged? What exactly does that mean?”

She had visions of a sword-swinging barbarian going after Nicholas, which almost made her smile. She’d love to see the look on his face if this huge Highlander went after him with a claymore. Her lips twitched.

“Ah, that was almost a smile there, lass.” His lips tipped up on the corners and her breath stilled. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a more handsome man before. What he was doing at her table she didn’t understand. “Tell me his name, lass. I ken just aboot everyone in this town. You tell me who’s responsible and I’ll see that justice is done.”

Monica snorted. “Yeah, because she wants a club-wielding caveman to beat up her ex. On second thought, that isn’t such a bad idea.”

“Ex?” the Scotsman asked.

“Her asshole of an ex-husband followed her to Scotland. It’s his handiwork you see on her face. I guess we should just be grateful he didn’t do worse.” She muttered something he didn’t quite catch. “I never thought he’d leave the US just to get his hands on her.”

Jess saw his eyes flare, then change from a mossy green to a golden brown, then back again. She thought it was just her imagination playing tricks on her until it happened again. Through the hand gripping her chin, she felt a tremor rake his body, as if he were trying to contain something within himself. Could he be like her ex? Were there others out there like him? The man was huge, and if he also had a shifter’s strength, she wouldn’t stand a chance. Yet, he’d seemed enraged by what Nicholas had done to her. Was it possible it wasn’t her ex’s shifter side that had made him so violent?

The Scot looked at Monica. “Do you have a picture of this ex? Do you ken where he’s stayin’?”

Monica snatched Jess’s phone off the table and began scrolling through the photo gallery. When she found what she was looking for, she flipped the phone around and showed the Scot the last family picture with Nicholas. Jess had meant to delete it, but the kids looked so happy in the photo she hadn’t been able to part with it.

The Scot looked from the picture to Jess. “Are those your kids?”

She nodded. “Piper is sixteen and Donovan is thirteen. You’d think it was the other way around, as tall as he is.”

“Your ex disnae look verra tall.”

Jess smiled. “He isn’t. The men on my side of the family are all over six feet tall. Donovan took after them.”

“I don’t know where the asshole is staying,” Monica said. “We’re at the Sheep’s Heid Inn and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’d found a room at the same place. The better to keep an eye on Jess and ensure she doesn’t have any fun.”

The Scot waved toward the phone. “May I borrow that for a moment?”

Monica arched a brow, but handed the phone over. The Scot rose to his feet and returned to the three men he’d been sitting with. Jess watched as they talked amongst themselves and didn’t miss the dark looks cast her way. When he returned, the men followed him.

The Scot handed the phone back to Monica and knelt in front of Jess again, taking her hand in his. The way his fingers wrapped around her smaller hand, the callused feel of them against her softer skin, sent shivers down her spine. There was heat in his touch, something she’d only ever read about. She watched his eyes do that weird thing again where they changed colors, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him about it.

Would you like to win a swag pack, book-themed charm bracelet, and a metal bookmark? Check out the release giveaway for Mad, Bad Bear at Rafflecopter.

*Giveaway is open Worldwide. Two winners will be announced after January 25th at Rafflecopter. No purchase necessary to enter. Void where prohibited. Must be 18 or older to enter.

Book Blitz: Holiday Magic by Alexa Piper #HolidayRomance @prowlingpiper

0 BANNER Holiday Magic by Alexa Piper Book Blitz

Welcome to Magic Pen Book Tours‘ organized book blitz for Holiday Magic by Alexa Piper taking place December 14-18, 2020!

Book Details

0 COVER Holiday Magic by Alexa Piper

Title: Holiday Magic
Series: Elwenswood Tales #1
Author: Alexa Piper
Release Date: December 18, 2020
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, MMF Romance (LGBTQ)
Type: Novella
Publisher: Changeling Press

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Blurb

A hot vampire or a hot Elf? Charlie could choose… unless she makes both of them her lovers.

Charlie, the only non-witch in a family of witches, has resigned herself to the role of the black sheep who doesn’t fit in. She lives a normal, boring human life, interrupted only by the occasional family visit over the holidays.

But even a normal, boring human can run into a vampire. Hugo might just be the caring, protective, blood-drinking boyfriend Charlie never knew she needed, even if her family will disapprove.

Before Charlie and Hugo can even go on a proper date, Fae try to ruin Christmas, and Charlie finds herself confronted with her vampire boyfriend’s very hot Elven friend. The three of them will have to take a trip to Faerie to save Christmas before they can figure out who gets to kiss whom first.


PURCHASE NOW!
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available now 1 Holiday Magic by Alexa Piper


Excerpt

The tram was climbing the part of New Elvenswood that had spread out over the sloping hills to the northeast. New Elvenswooders called it the Hills, Hillside, or even Upside. The valley, on the other hand, was usually just the Valley.

Charlie looked out the tram’s window. The November sky was hidden behind a lace-like veil of fog that gave the world a magical look. It pulled her mind toward fairy tales, toward Fair Folk on iridescent wings that made the holiday forests come to life with light and icy ornaments. Charlie looked away, looked down to the casserole of caramelized pears she had prepared for the Thanksgiving dinner. Magical. Though not for her.

Charlie had tried to worm her way out of spending Thanksgiving at her parents’ house, but her father and her mother had mounted a combined assault on their youngest daughter strong enough to render any lie of prior plans null and void. They had appealed to her emotions.

We hardly get to see you anymore, and you live just down in the Valley, her mother had said. You never come visit.

I’m almost done restoring that cabinet finally, and you promised you would help me, remember? Let’s do that over the weekend, her father had said.

In the end, Charlie had caved and agreed to come home for Thanksgiving dinner. She had determinedly not brought an overnight bag because she had no wish at all to stay the night, let alone the weekend, and spend it in her old room, her old bed, feeling like she had when she still lived at her parents’ house.

Charlie put the casserole down in the empty seat next to hers, fussed with her scarf and the suddenly itchy and too tight dress under it. Mom and Dad never make the twins feel that guilty, and they actually moved out of town.

The tram was almost empty, and Charlie got off at one of the last stops on this line, Oak Eaves. She readjusted her scarf again, pulled on her gloves, and stepped out of the warmth of public transport into the icy November air. It had started snowing just a couple of days ago, and here on the Hills, there was still a good amount more snow than back down in the Valley. Charlie crunched her way through the whiteness as the tram started speeding away past her. Her sighs turned into icy clouds.

“Miss! Excuse me?”

Charlie turned, and stared. “Ah, my pears!” One of the other passengers had her casserole dish in hand and was walking up to her.

“Sorry — you left this on the tram,” he said, and handed her the dish.

“Oh, thank you. You just saved me from embarrassing myself.” She looked after the tram, which was moving farther up the Hills. “Was this your stop?”

He had no cap on, no gloves either. His hair was dark and thick, already catching snowflakes like icing sugar, and there was laughter in his eyes. “No, not quite. But I’m afraid I had to get off to catch your attention.” He grinned. “Your mind seemed elsewhere.”

1 TEASER Holiday Magic by Alexa Piper

_____

Author Bio

Alexa PiperAlexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. She loves writing series, and her Fairview Chronicles follow a ragtag gang of supernaturals who try to make their city safer. Mostly. Her second series, Dusk & Dawn, explores banter and the trappings of a world in which Vampires, Werewolves, and the Fae live alongside humans.

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SPOTLIGHT: Silent Knight/Sleepless Knight (Duet) by Gale Stanley #HolidayRomance #LGBTQ @GalenStanley

Silent Knight / Sleepless Knight by Gale Stanley

Cover art: Bryan Keller

Genres: Gay Romance, Multiple Partners, Holiday

Length: Box Set

Page Count: 145

Silent Knight

Paul Stanton thought he had it all, a great job, a beautiful condo and a stable relationship with his boss, but when his lover dumps him for another man, Paul is forced to rethink his life. Rather than spend the holidays alone in San Francisco he visits his childhood home in rural Pennsylvania. But only a few days with his family is enough to convince Paul that you can’t go home again.

Paul leaves for the airport in the midst of a snowstorm. Stranded in the woods, a chance meeting with a hunter is his only option for survival. Paul knows the type, a backwoods bigot just like the men he grew up with, but what choice does he have? A few days with the hunter convinces Paul there’s more to Andy Reynolds than meets the eye. But is it enough to bind two men who have nothing in common except their sex?

Sleepless Knight

Andy and Paul are totally committed to each other, but when the two-year itch infects their relationship, Paul becomes distant and refuses to talk about it. Andy arranges a much needed vacation, but on the way home they pick up a hitchhiker who’s willing to trade sex for a roof over his head. Andy will do anything to make Paul happy, even if it means bringing another man into their bed. But is a threesome really the answer? Or will it drive them further apart?

Silent Knight Excerpt:

Andy studied his houseguest. Under different circumstances, Paul’s features would be extremely appealing, but right now, his high cheekbones were an unhealthy shade of pale, and his sensual lips were blue. He hoped Paul would accept his help. “Okay, let’s get you into bed.”

“I usually get dinner first,” Paul mumbled.

Paul’s attempt at humor was a good sign. Andy chuckled. “I’ll give you something to nibble on later, city boy.”

Andy helped his unexpected guest to the sleeping alcove. It was only across the room, but Paul leaned heavily on Andy, and by the time he sat on the bed, sweat beaded on Paul’s forehead. The man was obviously exhausted, but he tried to push Andy away when he attempted to undress Paul.

“Come on, city boy. You need to warm up.”

“I’m good.” Paul’s sentence ended with a shiver.

“You’re not good. You’re hypothermic and maybe frostbitten. Let me take your clothes off, and maybe we’ll save a few body parts.”

Andy’s harsh words must have gotten through to Paul. He stopped protesting and allowed Andy to undress him. When only Paul’s boxers remained, Andy surveyed his body with a clinical eye. There were no disturbing signs of frostbite. He just needed to rest and warm up. Paul might be cold, but he was also incredibly hot. Andy couldn’t help checking out his houseguest’s perfect golden tan. Obviously, the man was from a warmer locale. And Paul’s lean, muscular body, sprinkled with light brown hair, shouted gym rat. When Paul lay down on his back, Andy was surprised to see an erection escaping Paul’s boxers. He reached for the waistband to pull the shorts off.

Paul rose on his elbows and swore under his breath. “See anything you like?”

Sleepless Knight Excerpt

Los Angeles, California

Who gets fired from a stripper job? Un-fucking-believable. He’d missed one fucking last minute schedule change and the manager gave him the boot. At the last club, he’d got sacked for arguing with a customer who’d gotten too frisky.

Maybe he should try another line of work. Do you want fries with that?

Zach consoled himself with a beer at the Banana Bar, an upscale dance club he really couldn’t afford. He didn’t even notice the guy next to him until he felt a firm thigh rubbing against his. He glanced over from the corner of his eye.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

“They’re not worth that much.”

“Bad day?”

“The worst. I lost a lover and a job.”

“Shit, man. That’s too bad. Let me buy you another beer. I’m Rick Lord, by the way.”

“Zach Baker.” He twisted and put out a hand.

“It has a nice ring to it. Real or screen name?”

“I don’t have any use for a screen name. You?”

“You never heard of me?”

“No, can’t say I have.”

“Well, I haven’t been in the business long,” Rick conceded.

“What business is that?”

“Rick Lord of the Jungle.”

Zach looked at him blankly.

“Porn, sweetheart. My dick is getting rave reviews.”

“Sorry man. I’ll have to pick up a copy. I’ve been thinking about getting into skin flicks myself.”

“Really?” Rick eyed him with interest. “My producer is always looking for guys. Wanna show me what you got?”

This could be the break he’d been waiting for — or just another guy looking for a blowjob. What the hell. Zach couldn’t afford to pass up a chance, even a small one. He nodded.

“Meet me in the alley.” Rick threw some money on the bar. Zach slid off the stool and walked toward the backdoor, knowing Rick would follow.

Light from the street cast a dim glow over the alley. Zach unzipped and freed himself. Rick ran his fingers up and down Zach’s flaccid prick. Zach took over, pumping until his erection grew long and hard in his hand. “Seven inches.”

Rick licked his lips. “Nice, but let’s see what you can do.”

Zach expected he’d have to audition. He got to his knees and worked on Rick’s zipper. The man’s cock sprang free. Already rock hard, it didn’t need much work. Christ, eight or nine inches at least. But Zach had no doubts about his cock sucking abilities.

He closed his eyes and inhaled Rick’s intoxicating male scent before licking the head of his cock and wrapping his lips around the shaft. Zach relaxed his throat muscles and let the long, hard length ease down his throat until Rick’s trimmed bush tickled his nose.

Zach slid his lips back up Rick’s cock and he sucked on the sensitive head. The taste of precum exploded on his tongue and he sucked harder. He reached down and fisted his own stiff dick.

“That’s it sweetheart. Use your tongue.” Rick urged him on.

He knew Rick was close when he started fucking Zach’s mouth in earnest. In a few minutes Rick filled his throat with spurts of hot salty cum.

Zach swallowed Rick’s load and jerked his own cock in a frenzied attempt to get off. A few more hard strokes and he splattered the bricks with his cum.

Available at

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Author Bio and Links

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

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Happy Reading!