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…

 

Gunner’s Flame by Lynn Burke #bikerbooks #MCromance #RomanceBooks #NewRelease @AuthorLynnBurke @changelingpress

Gunner's Flame (Devil's Outlaws MC 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Contemporary, MC Romance, Men and Women in Uniform

 

Will Gunner choose his loyal Outlaw brothers or will he
choose the path that crosses them — for her?…

 

Mitch “Gunner” Flannigan rules the Devil’s Outlaws with a firm hand, one trained by his stint in the SEALs and tempered by empathy for other vets. When a curvy redhead in Army fatigues snags his attention — and puts him in the line of fire — he’s torn between wanting to bury himself between her lush thighs and helping to ease her return to American soil.

The recent death of Shelby’s mother and her cousin’s terrorizing only adds to the PTSD hindering her return to civilian life. Flames ignite when she’s thrown into Gunner’s arms, where she also finds safety with someone who understands her struggles.

Attempts on Gunner’s life threaten their future, but so do the secrets Shelby withholds from him. When those secrets come to light Gunner will have a decision to make. Will he choose to stand with his loyal Outlaw brothers or will he choose the path that crosses them — and leads him right into her arms?

Warning: Contains adult content, graphic violence, and dark emotional scenarios that may trigger some readers.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lynn Burke

Shelby

The coppery scent of blood filled my nose while sweat coated my skin from the desert sun beating down overhead. Screams echoed in my ears. My heart thudded so damn hard in my chest I swore an elephant sat on me, closing off my throat. Silent tears squeezed from between my clenched eyelids as I clutched at the shirt bunched in my hands and fought to keep the nightmares from taking over my head like they had since that day my platoon had been ambushed.

A waft of subtle, musky cologne trickled through the blood-scented air, and I burrowed my face into a hard, warm chest, seeking out quietness of mind, needing him to erase the memories of war I’d barely gotten a taste of before realizing I hadn’t been cut from the same cloth as my father.

“You’re okay,” the man’s raspy voice murmured over and over again, the sensation of rocking eventually pulling me back to D.C., my ears filtering the truth of my situation to my scattered brain.

I focused on breathing, desperate to keep from losing my shit like I’d been doing on a daily basis since returning home to find my fiancé moved out and on with his life. Having my mother lying in a hospital bed with terminal cancer had been my ticket out of the Army, but besides death, it was the shittiest way to get discharged.

She’d passed three days earlier, leaving me alone to deal with grief I’d yet to allow myself. Leaving me floundering in life, having lost all sense of belonging.

I only had one family member left — my older cousin who was supposed to have met me there at the memorial, and while I’d been on time I hadn’t seen him while chatting with the man holding me.

Voices buzzed in my ears, but I kept my eyes shut against the police, EMTs, and whoever else scurried around us to see to the wounded.

Eventually, the man — Gunner — pulled back and tilted my head. I forced my eyes open, blinking in the bright sunshine. He said something about cops wanting to talk to us, but I didn’t budge from the comfort of his lap, the feel of his strong arms offering shelter I hadn’t experienced since before the death of my father when I’d been a gangly, young teenager.

Gunner felt like… home. Something I’d felt had been ripped away from me while overseas. Returning to American soil hadn’t brought that comfort. Sleeping in my childhood bed hadn’t given me the same rest I’d hoped for.

I closed my eyes again, rested my cheek on his chest, the steady thump of his heart giving me something to focus on. My fingers once more found purchase in his shirt, and I clung to him like a lifeline to sanity that kept my throat-tightening panic at bay.

Eventually, the cops got around to us, a million questions I couldn’t focus enough to answer — even after I checked my messages to find my cousin had texted me a few minutes after the shooting saying he couldn’t make it.

At least he was safe.

Still shaking with the need to pass out, I declined going to the hospital when someone suggested I go. The thought of beeps and the sickening scent of bleach and death had my stomach heaving, making me feel even worse.

“I’m fine,” I insisted for at least the tenth time, folded in on myself, arms clenched tight around my middle while fighting off visions of Mom wasting away on her hospital bed.
Outlines of three bodies stood out in stark white chalk on the ground a little ways away, dark stains of blood still not completely dried or washed away. I tore my stare off the horrid sight, seeking out comfort.

Gunner and his two friends stood with another cop a few feet away, but his dark-eyed gaze stayed on me.

I heaved a sigh, settling my nerves the slightest bit at the understanding in his eyes, the connection I felt tugging us toward one another. I’d never felt need for someone as I did for Gunner, as though my body knew it would find solace and peace in close proximity to him.

The cops had my name and number, knew where I lived, and had jotted down what story I could offer. I was free to leave, but I hesitated, still dazed and uncertain of where I should go, what I should do.

Although I hated crowds, my cousin had insisted I go to the peaceful Veteran’s March for Peace, so I’d decided to take the train south into the city, but stay on the outskirts until our agreed upon time to meet.

The silent beauty of the walking crowd had soothed me in ways I’d never again expected to feel and almost gave me the sense of comradery I’d felt for a short time while overseas. Hundreds of people, quite a few in old uniforms from all branches of the military, had made their way through the streets of D.C. to silently protest the ongoing war, the ongoing loss of innocent lives even if recruits signed up knowing the possible cost.

Gunner and his two friends were of a rougher crowd, by looks, anyway. All three wore leathers and vests declaring them members of the Devil’s Outlaws, a biker gang aptly named from the northern suburbs, but I’d never been one to judge a person by their clothing choice — especially since Gunner had seemed hell-bent on helping me transition back to civilian life.

Also by looks, he was one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark tanned face, neck, and tattooed arms. He squinted in the sun while staring at me, lines crinkling the corners of his eyes as though he smiled on the inside…

More from Lynn at Changeling Press…

 

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

Angel Falls Vol. 1 (Angel Falls 6)

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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available in ebook and print

 

EXCERPT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Rich. And goodbye.”

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

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

It was great.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More from Stephanie Burke at Changeling Press…

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Ayla Ruse

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

“Hello, beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

“Did you get that?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I don’t, actually,” he said.

“What?”

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

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

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

“I work for them.”

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

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

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

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

More from Ayla at Changeling Press…

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Mychael Black

“I hate snow.”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Mr… ?”

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

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

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

Great. A stuck-up hardass for a client.

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

“Yes?”

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

“Mr. Snow is here, sir.”

“Show him in.”

Joseph opened the door and stood aside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now.”

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

Stone nodded once and left Kelly to it.

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

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

 

Demon's Grotto (Demon's Grotto 1)

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

button_get-it-today (1)

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Hill

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Do I know you?”

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

“Yes. Do you work here?”

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

“Why? Do you mind if I take notes?”

“No. Go ahead.”

“What’s your name, by the way?”

“Ben.”

“And what do you do here, Ben?”

“I’m the maintenance guy.”

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

“More than I ever wanted to.”

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

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

“Why don’t we just go in the club?”

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

Laura chuckled. “Stranger than that?”

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