A Changeling for All Seasons – Volume 9 #Christmas #holidaystories#BoxSet @changelingpress

 

Cool Text - Thirteen tales of Christmas Magic from your favorite Changeling 308426189307600

 

A Changeling For All Seasons 9 (Changeling Seasons 9)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Christmas
Length: Box Set – 464 pages

Thirteen tales of Christmas Magic from your favorite Changeling authors!

Ayla Ruse — Racing Wild: A wild race can lead to anything — even love.

Anne Kane — Tinsel Wars: Braedon intends to win the final skirmish in the Tinsel Wars!

Ruth D. Kerce — Christmas Cowboy: Chaz breeds horses. What’s a cowboy supposed to do with a herd of reindeer?

Dahlia Rose — Silver Bells: Tia was the sexy little elf that made Danny Grinch’s Christmas that much hotter.

Crymsyn Hart — Sleigh Balls: Instead of snow this Christmas, it’s raining reindeer!

Lena Austin — Ghosting: Ghost hunting means sometimes you find a ghost you weren’t expecting, when you aren’t even looking.

Judy Mays — Jingle Buds: Dr. Jon Claus finds the perfect woman when Emily Olson’s grandmother gets run over by a reindeer!

Julia Talbot — Merry X-Moose: Can a were-moose and a Santa-obsessed Elf fall in love — and save Christmas at the same time?

Lily Vega — Wicked Game: All’s fair in love and war during Santa’s Reindeer Games.

CJ England — Snip! Snap! Dragon!: With a fiery Snip! Snap! a passionate modern day dragon lures his forever mate into the flames.

Ana Raine — White Stag: When the scent of peppermint reaches his nose Crane knows he has to remember or lose it all forever.

Sara Jay — Sleigh Ride: Can one magical sleigh ride deliver love to two lonely Elves?

Sean Michael — Five Golden Beads: When kinky gifts begin arriving, Shay knows it’s time for a visit from his very own special Elf.

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press
Also available in print

 

Cool Text - Excerpt 308426368979630

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 The Changelings
Excerpt from Merry X-Moose (Julia Talbot)

“Seriously, Laird, you’ve lost your mind,” Laiyde said. His sister didn’t pull any punches, even with him being the head of sleigh engineering. “You do remember eight tiny reindeer, right? There’s no way Santa’s team can pull the sleigh with the extra weight you’re proposing.”

“He’s not getting any younger, Lai. Santa needs protection. This little cockpit is nothing. Hell, if Rudolph would just go full time…”

“Rudolph retired to Finland after you created that LED beam, remember?” She rolled her eyes, dark brown like his. They were twins, but thankfully she couldn’t grow a full beard like he did. That would be awkward.

“Right.” Shit. “Well, there are always a hundred young bucks competing at the reindeer games. Just get Sparkle to add two more to the team.”

His sister threw up her hands. “Just add two more. Like it’s that easy! Santa has used the same harness since the fifties! One extra attachment was added then for Rudolph. You can’t just change the whole of Christmas history every year!”

“Hey, I just want him to be safe.” Santa had slipped and damned near fallen off a house last year pulling a package out of the back of the sleigh. Laird thought about the implications of losing Santa and wanted to throw up.

“We all do. You’re going to have to redesign.” She patted his arm. “Talk to the magic team. See if they can make a bubble or something.”

“I did. They can’t make my dome lose any weight, even though they say they can equalize the pressure and keep flight horizontal without loss of velocity and altitude. Best they can do.”

“Well, that’s something.” She smiled. “I’ll make hot chocolate.”

“With star marshmallows?” Laird asked.

“Anything for you, Bro.”

“Cool. Give me an hour to go talk to Sparkle and you’re on.”

She rolled her eyes again, but didn’t say anything. She just waved him off.

Laird pulled his parka on over his flannel shirt and snow pants. While Christmas Elves were well suited to the cold climate, this time of year was brutal. The toymakers and cobblers and all never went outside right now. They had long breezeways between their dorms and the workshops.

The rest of them had to brave freezing their balls off.

He trundled down to the reindeer barns, where he knew Captain Sparkle would be putting the chosen eight through their paces. The pulling reindeer had to bulk up as much as possible between now and the big day, and they all had to learn emergency procedures and weather contingencies.

He stomped snow off his boots once he got to the barn offices, the wind howling behind him when he slammed the door shut.

“Shit, it’s colder than a well-digger’s ass out there,” he mumbled.

“I imagine that’s colder than a witch’s tit.”

Laird whirled around to face the guy who’d just walked up behind him. Then he grinned. “Depends on if it’s in a brass bra.”

“Mmm. What about a sleigh reindeer in a snowstorm’s balls?” the guy asked.

“Nothing is colder than that,” Laird said. “There’s too much ether to fight.”

“I bet. I’m Bruiser, and I’m on desk duty today. What can I do for you?”

“New guy, huh?” He smiled. New guys were few and far between. Bruiser was an amazing newcomer, taller than Elves, even, and contrary to myth, Santa’s Elves were way more Tolkien than Oompa Loompa. This guy was all leg, lanky and surprisingly tanned, with a shock of dark hair. Dark brown eyes shone with humor.

 

 

Celestial Christmas by Judy Mays #holidaystories #Christmas #aliens #scifi #AlienEncounters @changelingpress

Nothing Marc can do will distract Jami from making Brianna’s
first Alalakan Christmas the best ever…

 

A Celestial Christmas (Celestial Passions 2)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Alien Encounters, Christmas
Length: 79 pages

Princess Jami of Mediria is determined to give her adopted sister Brianna of Earth a Christmas to remember, even though she’d never heard of the holiday before Brianna described it so longingly. Descending on the snowy estate of the Alalakan clan, Jami plans the surprise celebration.

Alalakan don al’ Marcadras wants nothing more than to be left alone. Years ago he foiled a plot by the woman he loved to murder Mediria’s king. Gravely injured and scarred for life, he retreated to this isolated estate.

Marc’s desire for peace and quiet is pitted against Jami’s insistence on duplicating Earth’s festivities. Nothing Marc can say or do will distract her, not even seducing her. The hot sex they share only further inspires her to make this the best Alalakan Christmas party ever.

Unfortunately, not everyone on the estate gets in the holiday spirit. Some see a Medirian princess’s presence as an opportunity of another sort… The Medirian royal family will pay a great deal of money to get their princess back.

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

Cool Text - Excerpt 308425910976238

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Judy Mays

“There’s a message from Rodane.”

Looking up, Alalakan don al’ Marcadras, rolled his shoulders. He’d spent the last four hours after dinner hunched over the workstation in his study trying to finish the estate’s yearly reports. After flexing his fingers, he accepted the tablet the housekeeper handed to him, tapped in his code, and perused the message. Then he read it more carefully. Muttering some obscenities under his breath, he looked at the woman standing before him. “We’re going to have guests.”

“At this time of the year? Who?”

“Bandalardrac…”

Before he could finish, she smiled broadly and interrupted him. “Ban’s coming? That’s wonderful.”

Setting the tablet on his desk, he said, “Control your libido, Irinia. A Medirian princess is coming with him, which means at least one Aradab, maybe more, will be coming too as her body guard.”

“A Medirian princess? Ban didn’t get married, did he?”

Marc shook his head. What was it that made almost every woman in the galaxy want to jump in bed with his second cousin? “No, Ban is not married. He says it’s one of his cousins.”

“Which one of his many aunts and uncles is the parent? What does she want here? No one ever visits at this time of the year. Everyone is exhausted from the crafters’ trade show. The chalet hasn’t been properly cleaned in a month, and I don’t know if any of the rooms are suitable for guests.” The woman straightened, crossed her arms over her breasts. “I am not going to wait hand and foot on a spoiled princess who was bored at home and decided to have an adventure in some Drakian mountains.”

Marc grimaced. “I don’t know which aunt or uncle her father or mother is, and I don’t expect you to cater to her beyond what would normally be expected of you, Irinia. You have enough to do in this monstrosity of a house as it is. The princess will just have to amuse herself. If she’s not happy with the accommodations, she can just go home again.” He did raise an eyebrow. “Though I know you well enough to know if there’s one speck of dust in any of the rooms right now, you’d have the servants working nonstop until everything was clean enough to eat off of.”

The housekeeper ignored his last comment. “Why would Ban even bring her here?”
“You know Ban. Once he gets something into his head… He is very fond of all his younger cousins. What’s more, he did get the okay from Rodane so it’s not like he’s showing up with her unannounced or without the family’s knowledge.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

Another grimace. “I don’t want a spoiled child under my feet any more than you do, but it doesn’t look as if we have any choice in the matter.”

“Is she a child?”

“I’m guessing between twelve and fourteen. Can you imagine a grown Medirian woman wanting to come here at this time of the year?” Marc said with a shrug.

She pursed her lips. “You’re right. With the weather getting colder, she’ll have to stay almost exclusively in the chalet. The water in the lake is freezing so she won’t want to swim there. I think I’ll turn down the temperature for the indoor pool’s heating system. If it’s cold enough, she’ll want to head back to Mediria’s tropical waters as soon as she can.”

“You lower the temperature too much, and you’ll kill the fish. Then you’ll not only have to deal with me but also with my great-aunt. Jenetta will not be happy if her prized opodia fish die.”

Marc could see Irinia weighing the prospect of Jenetta’s anger against any inconvenience brought about by the princess. He knew the moment she decided Jenetta’s ire would be far worse than dealing with one Medirian princess. “When are they arriving?” she asked in a disgruntled voice.

A loud humming noise from outside answered for him. “Sounds like they’re here now. Leave it to Ban to arrive this late at night,” he said. Stepping around his desk, he grasped Irinia’s upper arm before she could exit the room. “I expect you to treat the princess with the utmost respect. The ties between the Hardan and Alalakan families are strong and numerous. I don’t want you to ignore your regular duties because the princess demands something unusual or bizarre, but I will not have any reasonable requests denied. Are we clear about that?”

“Marc! When have I ever been unreasonable?”

“More times than I can count, hence the warning. Besides, you don’t want to disappoint Ban, do you? For all we know, this is his favorite cousin.”

Releasing her arm, Marc chuckled to himself as he strode out the door and headed for the chalet’s landing pad. Although normally even-tempered and genial, Irinia could be a real harridan when she wanted. Invoking Ban’s name would make her think before she did anything the princess would find too infuriating.

On the landing pad, the door of the shuttlecraft was just rising when Marc and the housekeeper arrived. Once the door was braced, the stairway extended. Bandalardrac stuck his head out of the doorway, grinned, and made his way down to the platform.

“Marc! It’s good to see you.” Pivoting away from his Alalakan cousin, he grabbed the housekeeper in an exuberant hug. “Irinia, are you still here? I thought you’d have married some complacent merchant by now and gone off to rule his household!”

“As if I wanted to marry again — unless you’re asking. Besides, I have yet to meet the merchant who can handle me!”

Laughing, Ban set her on her feet and turned back to the hovercraft. “Jami? Are you coming? You’re the one who was in such a hurry to get here!”

“I’m coming!” a musical voice shouted. “I needed to get my coat. That’s a cold wind howling through the hatchway!”

Marc smiled to himself. If she was already complaining about the cold, she wouldn’t last here too long. Then things would get back to normal. Pasting a smile on his face, he waited for whom he was sure would be a prepubescent girl. He wasn’t prepared for the vision wearing a coat that fit like a second skin over her curvaceous body. A sharp gust of wind blew her short, dark-green hair into her face. Combing it away with her left hand, she bit her full, lower lip as she grabbed the hand railing. Hurrying down the steps, she halted in front of him. This was no child. This was a very attractive woman.

Marc cursed silently to himself. Just what he needed, another sexy Medirian woman confounding his life.

“Jami, my cousin Alalakan don al’ Marcadras, manager of the chalet and its grounds, and the housekeeper Sililurtria dem al’ Irinia. Marc, Irinia, this is Jami…”

“Her Royal Highness Jamilinlalissa, Princess Hardan,” intoned a harsh voice from the top of the stairway.

As Irinia gasped, Marc stiffened. Jamilinlalissa? If his memory was correct, she was one of the king’s daughters! He’d expected the daughter of one of Findal’s many brothers or sisters, not someone who could possibly inherit the throne. Then, all thoughts of the princess fled his mind as he focused on the Aradab descending the stairs. Kahn? The Master of the Medirian School of Assassins. What in the seven hells did he want here? Marc had made it plain to all of the instructors that he was through with his training. He certainly wasn’t the first person to have left the school.

Ignoring the cold wind, his arms crossed over his bare chest, the Aradab halted and stared at Marc as if to issue a silent challenge.

Before he could stop himself, Marc clenched his fists. He hadn’t seen Kahn since he’d left Mediria seven years ago, and he wasn’t happy to see him now.

Irinia’s sudden cough shook Marc from his dark thoughts, and he hastily gathered his composure. “Irinia, why don’t you go in and get something warm for our guests to drink?” That should give her time to regain her poise. Entertaining the daughter of a king was not the norm here.

The housekeeper hurried back into the chalet.

Marc watched her go. Now, all he had to do was control his own reactions to his guests.

Ban clicked a button on the control he held in his hand. After the stairs folded neatly back into the hovercraft, the door slowly lowered into place. “Is there anybody to bring in the luggage, or will we have to tote it ourselves?” Ban asked in a cheerful voice.

 

ABOUT JUDY MAYS

Sexier than a Hollywood starlet! More buxom than a Vegas showgirl. Able to split infinitives with a single key stroke!

Look! At the computer!
It’s a programmer!
It’s a computer nerd!
No! It’s – Judy Mays!

Yes, Judy Mays – erotic romance writer extraordinaire who came to Earth with powers and abilities beyond those of mortal authors. Judy Mays! Who can write wild, wanton werewolves; adorable, alluring aliens; vexing, vivacious vamps; hot, haunting historicals; compelling, combustible contemporaries; sexy, surprising suspense, and cagey, cuddly kitty cats; and, who, disguised as a mild-mannered tenth grade English teacher in a small public high school, fights a never ending battle for Hot Hunks, Hip Heroines, and Salacious Sensuality!

Visit her website at http://www.JudyMays.com or join her reader’s group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/judymays

Blossom and the Alien Actor by Jessica Coulter Smith #scifi #aliens #aliencontact #alternateuniverse #holidaybooks #Christmas #singlemom #romance @changelingpress

cooltext308425478236109

cooltext308425507327884

 

Blossom and the Alien Actor (Intergalactic Brides 19)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Genres/Themes: Christmas, Scifi, Futuristic, Alien Encounters
Length: 139 pages

Blossom has struggled all her life, never able to claw her way out of the worst neighborhood in Los Angeles. Her loser ex-boyfriend isn’t who she thought he was, and now she’s in deep trouble — but Christmas is the time for miracles, and Blossom needs one now more than ever. She just doesn’t expect her miracle to arrive in such a sexy, purple package. When the notorious alien actor Brexton knocks on her door, she does what any rational woman would do — she slams it in his face. Wishing for a miracle is one thing, but having the heartthrob of Hollywood on her doorstep isn’t what she had in mind.

Brexton has always wanted a mate and family, though he’s never been blessed with either. When he hears about a single mom who’s in trouble, he knows he can’t leave her to face her fate. Having a door slammed in his face hadn’t factored into his plans, but that one glimpse is enough for Brexton. He’d do anything to get another look at the sexy female with blue hair, and a body that would feature in all his future dreams.

Despite danger lurking around every corner, Brexton is determined to give Blossom and her children a Christmas they’ll always remember. Now that he has the family he’s always wanted, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe, and hopefully share the first of many holidays with his new mate and kids.

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

cooltext308425676505179

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Jessica Coulter Smith

Brexton left the studio and climbed into the SUV he’d bought after his first movie contract. He’d been assured it was a good quality vehicle, but truthfully, humans had too many brands and names for things. Other than price, he didn’t understand the difference in a BMW and a Ford. They all had four wheels and could take you where you needed to be. Yes, some seemed nicer inside than others, and he’d learned that some had more buttons and options inside, but it seemed the name on the car often made them cost more, which made little sense to him. His manager had helped him select this vehicle with the blue and white emblem on the front. It was roomy enough for his large frame and the seats were comfortable. Nothing else mattered to Brexton.

He drove straight to the Terran station, hoping to find someone to help them. He might have been a warrior, once, but those days were behind him. Others would be better qualified to protect a woman and her children. There would be guards at the station with current warrior status, those who still practiced hand-to-hand combat, and had learned about the weapons on this world. Brexton had decided to focus his attention elsewhere, but he hadn’t taken into account the way humans were always hurting one another. He might need to schedule some training time, re-hone the kills he’d probably lost over the last ten years, in case he ever needed to defend a female or children.

He’d never been one of the elite, and he’d often wonder if it had to do with his DNA. While both his parents were Zelthranites, there was a faint trace of something else in his blood. It wouldn’t have been noticeable except Zelthranite males didn’t grow facial hair other than eyebrows, and Brexton had a full beard. He’d asked the doctors on his world about it, and they’d assured him that he had Zelthranite blood, but it seemed he was a throwback to hundreds of years ago. It had made him different, and on his world, different wasn’t always a good thing. Here he was accepted, which was why he’d left his home world at the age of nineteen. By that time, he’d been a warrior for three years and known he wasn’t right for that life.

As he entered the station, the human female at the front desk got a dreamy expression on her face. He’d seen that look before and braced himself for whatever she might say or do. He knew without the human fans, he wouldn’t have a lucrative career as an actor, but this was the part of his job he hated. Since his people were already celebrities of a sort on Earth, he hadn’t seen the harm in following this particular path. He hadn’t counted on being ten times more famous than he’d already been, and there were times it was a right pain.

“Brexton!” the human said, smiling and giving him a wave, like they were old friends. “How can I help you today? Is the new movie going well?”

He forced himself to smile. “It’s going well. Everything is on schedule.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Maybe you could give me a tour of the studio sometime?”

“The studio does offer tours. I would be happy to put your name on the list.”

Her enthusiasm died a little when she realized he wasn’t going to personally take her around. Money and fame mattered entirely too much to the human species. It seemed to be how they determined who was worth their time and who wasn’t. He had yet to meet a genuine person, but he’d been told it had a lot to do with being part of the Hollywood elite. Apparently, he attracted the wrong type of person.

“I need to speak to the guards,” he said. “Who is on duty right now?”

She tapped at her computer a moment, then gave him a list of names and where to find them. Out of the names mentioned, he knew that Ranvik had the highest warrior ranking, and would be his best bet for saving that little family. He made his way through the station until he found the warrior surveying the departure area for the latest shuttle sending potential brides to his home world.

“Ranvik,” he said as he approached.

“If it isn’t Mr. Famous,” Ranvik said. His expression didn’t change. “To what do we owe the honor? It’s not often you grace us with your presence.”

“I see you’ve picked up human sarcasm rather well.”

Ranvik shrugged. “Have to do something to pass the time. Policing human females gets boring.”

“I need your help, or rather a human family does.”

Now he had the warrior’s attention. “What type of help?”

“I was informed there is a human female and her children who are in danger.” Brexton told the warrior what little he knew of the situation and showed him the address the human had put into his phone.

Ranvik rubbed a hand against his jaw. “I don’t have anyone to spare right now. Things are always dull at the station, but we still have to make sure all points are covered in case there’s ever trouble.”

“But this woman…”

“You were a warrior once, Brexton. I know you were young when you were training, and it’s been a long time, but those skills will still be there when you need them. You have to trust in yourself, in your abilities. You may be an actor here on Earth, but never forget who you truly are.”

He snorted. He knew who he was, and it wasn’t a proud warrior. That had never been a title he could claim. Even when he’d trained daily, he’d been average at best. Not like the warrior standing in front of him. Ranvik had a reputation back home, and the nearly forty-year-old warrior would be much better suited to rescuing the woman and her kids. What if Brexton fucked it all up? Being in the spotlight meant his every move was criticized. If the female’s boyfriend attacked and Brexton had to defend himself, someone was bound to make it sound like Brexton was at fault. He’d learned that humans tended to blame those in a position of power, whether they were responsible or not.

“I’m sorry, truly. I just can’t spare anyone right now,” Ranvik said. “And it doesn’t sound like this female and her children can afford to wait until I have time to look into it.”

Brexton ran a hand through his hair. “If I get shot, I’m going to come back and kick your ass.”

Ranvik smirked. “You could try.”

“Fine. I’ll go check on the female. But what the hell am I supposed to do with her? I figured the station would have the resources necessary to get her somewhere safely, or give her a temporary place to stay.”

“Don’t you have some massive house with like fifteen bedrooms?” Ranvik asked.

“It’s eight, not fifteen, asshole.”

Ranvik raised a brow. “Right. One male and eight bedrooms. I can’t imagine where you could possibly put one small human and her kids.”

“Take them home with me?” It was true that he had a lot of security at his home, and it would be difficult for the male to attack the small family, or kidnap them. He just hadn’t considered keeping them after he removed them from the situation.

“You’ll figure it out, superstar,” Ranvik said. “Now get the hell out of here. All the potential brides are eyeing you like a piece of candy and seem hesitant to get onto the shuttle.”

He glanced at the women and realized Ranvik spoke the truth. They were all giving him that look he’d come to think of as the be my sugar daddy simper. It never worked on him, and irritated the hell out of him, but it didn’t stop them from trying. He really did need a mate, if for no other reason than to keep the vultures away, but Zelthranites mated for life and he had yet to find a sweet, kind, genuine female he could spend his days with, and not worry that she was after his money.

Brexton left the Terran station and went back out to his car. He sighed when he saw two women lurking next to the vehicle. With some luck, they’d just want an autograph, but he was seldom that fortunate. At least, not with single females. He’d even had a few married ones hit on him, right in front of their spouses. It was shocking, and disgusting. Where he came from, mates were faithful to one another and completely devoted to each other. The lack of integrity he’d witnessed in the humans he dealt with didn’t inspire great confidence that he would ever find a mate. Not here anyway. There were other worlds that had compatible females for his kind, but the small humans had always been appealing to Brexton.

Compared to a human male, he was rather large. He’d met a few human males who were his size, but most were quite a bit shorter and not as broad. More than one human female had told him that he was intimidating, especially with his beard and longer hair. Brexton wasn’t going to try to change his appearance though. He hadn’t conformed when he’d been on his world, and he wasn’t about to start now. Besides, his size and overall looks were a sort of trademark at this point in his career.

As he neared the address on his phone, he realized the neighborhood was worse than he’d thought. Most buildings and homes had their windows boarded, and graffiti covered their walls. The fences he saw had barbed wire topping them, and every single male seemed to be armed. What he didn’t see were any law enforcement vehicles. No wonder this part of town was so out of control. No one seemed to care what happened to the people who lived here.

Brexton pulled to a stop outside of an apartment building that looked like it might fall down in a stiff breeze. He got out of his SUV and set the alarm before approaching the five-story brick structure. Movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, but it was just a pack of rats scurrying into the drain. The vermin didn’t bother him like they did some people, but he knew he had to get the little family out of this place.

The door swung open easily enough, which made him frown. There was absolutely no security for a female and her children. He doubted that she would live here if she had other options, although not many humans he’d met acted in a way that made sense to him. He didn’t know what to expect when he met her. He’d seen some females on corners as he’d gotten near the address, and they’d looked hard and far too thin. The makeup caked on their faces had made them seem harsh, and he hated they’d fallen so far. Assuming they’d ever known anything other than this poverty.

Brexton found the apartment number the female at the studio had entered into his phone and he knocked, the door shaking under the force of his fist. One hard blow, and he could probably break the damn thing. He heard whispers on the other side of the door, then it opened a crack. A chain ran across the inside not quite six feet up, but even that looked incredibly weak. The small female who peered through the opening didn’t stand a chance if someone was determined to break into her home.

“I was told you need assistance,” he said, and watched as her eyes went wide.

The door slammed shut and he wondered if maybe he should have gone about this a different way. After a moment, it slowly opened, this time without the chain in place, and the dainty female looking up at him nearly took his breath away. The way his heart was racing, he started to think maybe he was the one who needed help. His body had an instant reaction to the petite blue-haired pixie, and he hoped she didn’t notice. In all his years on Earth, he’d never once had a female affect him so strongly. Something inside of him was screaming mine.

Things had definitely taken an unexpected turn.

 

ABOUT JESSICA

Award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith has been in love with the written word since she was a child writing her first stories in crayon. Today she’s a multi-published author of over seventy-five novellas and novels. Romance is an integral part of her world and she firmly believes that love will find you at the right time, even if Mr. Right is literally out of this world.

Find Jessica on Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / jessicacoultersmith.com.

 

 

Christmas Carole by Angela Knight #Christmas #holidaybooks #romance @changelingpress

You’ll want a visit from these Ghosts of Christmas Yummy…

 

Christmas Carole (Christmas Spirits 5)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres/Themes: Christmas, Paranormal
Length: 56 pages

Carole Elzer is no Scrooge — she loves Christmas. But when she’s visited by the ghost of her best friend and business partner, Marley, Carole learns she must make amends for something she hasn’t done — otherwise, Marley warns, she’ll spend the rest of her life in anguish and guilt.

She’s guided on her voyage into Christmas Past, Present and Yet to Come by three sexy spirits, all of whom look just like her partner, Bob Crockett. Bob is still grieving for the wife he loved and lost years ago, but Carole nurses a guilty love for him.

As Carole explores her past, present and future with her handsome spirits, she realizes just how high the stakes are. Bob’s young son Tim’s life hangs in the balance. If she doesn’t learn how to save the child, none of them will ever again know a merry Christmas — and she and Bob will have no future together.

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

Cool Text - Excerpt 308424954226578

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Angela Knight

The rambling old Victorian house looked like it had fallen off a Christmas card as it sprawled under the full moon, all white wooden siding, mansard roof, and lacy gingerbread trim. A gorgeous tree stood in an upstairs window, decorated in antique toys and draped in flashing twinkle lights.

“Bah fucking humbug,” I muttered, my breath steaming in the cold as I trudged up the steps, wanting nothing more than my bed. I’d been at work since seven in the morning. It was almost midnight now.

To make matters worse, we’d been shooting a wedding video. Weddings require you to capture every moment, from decorating the church all the way to the last drunken guest stumbling home from the reception. Which makes for a looong day that seems even longer when it’s Christmas Eve.

And did I mention it was a wedding? No other event we shoot calls up old anger, pain, and grief like the joyous union of two people in holy matrimony. Not just for me, either. There’d been ghosts in Bob Crockett’s eyes all day. Which just goes to show, even the best marriages will eventually kick you in the teeth.

My partner deserved better. His wife, Marley, sure as hell had.

My keys jingled merrily as I unlocked the door. As I started to turn the knob, I glanced up at the goofy plastic lion doorknocker Marley had put up at Halloween two years ago. I’d left it up, even changed the LED batteries a couple of times. Looking at it always made me remember her, and smile. Or blink back tears.

It had never made all the blood drain from my face — until now.

Marley glared at me from the spot the lion’s head should be, her eyes blazing red, her brows lowered, teeth bared. Her lips shaped the word, “Idiot.”

“Christ!” I leaped backward, heart in my throat. And stared. The knocker was just a goofy plastic lion again, red LED eyes glaring.

Huh. I really was tired if I’d mistaken the beast’s mane for Marley’s long curls, its snarl for hers. Not that Marley had been the type to snarl without a damned good reason. She’d been more the rainbows and unicorns type, endlessly creative and funny.

Maybe the slice of wedding cake I’d eaten had been laced with cannabis edibles. Which was illegal as hell in South Carolina, but we were talking about the kind of people who held weddings on Christmas Eve. Being the richest fish in the very small pond of Carson, SC, the Grahams didn’t think rules applied to them.

Being Candice Elzer’s daughter, I knew a lot of people like that.

My heartbeat began to slow as I reached for the key I’d left hanging in the lock, twisted it, and pushed inside. I hurried to the foyer alarm system keypad to disarm it. My hand shook as I punched in the code, and I curled my lip in irritation. “Get a grip, Carole.”

Pissed at myself, I stomped over to pull my keys out of the lock and close the door.
My textile-magnate great-great grandfather had built the house a hundred and thirty years ago, and it had been in the Elzer family ever since. It still retained a certain dark Victorian grandeur, between its antique furniture, carved oak wainscoting, and odd little nooks and crannies created by asymmetric architecture.

Which could have been creepy as hell, if I hadn’t decorated the crap out of the house for Christmas. Holly, fresh pine boughs, and mistletoe were everywhere, along with Victorian Santas, angels, and antique toys. I’d put up two different live trees, one in my bedroom, and a twelve-footer brushing the parlor’s intricately carved ceiling details. The whole place smelled like a pine forest.

Unfortunately, my Christmas spirit had died of an advanced case of Graham Wedding around noon. My shoulders ached as I started up the stairs that were ridiculously wide, even by Victorian standards.

Somewhere in the house, wooden flooring creaked, sounding exactly like a footstep. The house had a habit of groaning and creaking to itself like an elderly lady bitching, but something about that particular sound made the hair rise on the back of my neck. I peered over the banister, listening, one hand dipping into my purse to fish for my cell phone.

Nothing. No other sound. Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself. The security system was still armed. Nobody broke in.

I turned to continue up the stairs — and gasped.

Parked on the stairs ahead of me — stairs that had been empty a heartbeat before — a hearse stood, its back hatch swung wide to reveal the coffin inside.

Lurching backward with a yelp, I barely saved myself from falling with a frantic grab for the banister. I spun and raced back down the steps so fast, it was a miracle I didn’t break my neck. At the bottom, I wheeled to peer back the way I’d come.

The stairs were empty.

Dumbass, what did you expect? No way in hell could a set of hundred-and-forty-year-old steps support a couple tons of hearse.

It hadn’t been cannabis that cake had been laced with. It had been LSD.

Bob. I needed to call Bob. Six-foot-four with a broad, muscular build, Bob Crockett could handle anything. One call and he’d be here in ten minutes. Back in his hard news days, Bob had covered everything from shotgun murders to high-speed chases, and nothing shook his cool. Not even his business partner’s overactive imagination.

But it was Christmas Eve, and we’d spent all day working that wedding because the bride’s family had written us a check with a lot of zeros. I wasn’t about to drag him out of bed now. For one thing, he shouldn’t leave his twelve-year-old son home alone just to calm me down.

Tim had gone along on today’s shoot, just as he’d been doing from the age of five. He’d always been a laughing, bright-eyed boy, but his mother’s death had left him pale and quiet. He’d seemed particularly withdrawn today.

Damned if I was going to bother them because visions of serial killers danced in my head. Instead I stood at the foot of the stairs, concentrating on getting my racing heartbeat under control.

I kept a Lady Smith .38 in my upstairs closet. Bob had bought it for me one Christmas, then dragged me to the range to practice until he was sure I could hit what I aimed at.

“I’ve covered too many fucking murders,” he’d told me. “If you’re going to live alone, you’re damned well going to be able to defend yourself.”

Now I took back every time I’d teased him about his paranoia.

Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I started up the stairs almost as fast as I’d come down them. If I heard so much as a floorboard creak, I was calling 911.

And tell them what? demanded the voice of common sense. That your doorknocker turned into your dead partner’s face and you saw a hearse parked on the stairs? The cops’ll search the house for drugs.

Damn it. No cops.

I hurried up the steps and down the hallway to the master bedroom, flipping on lights as I went. Pausing, I gave the room a once-over. The brass bed was neatly made under a beautiful heirloom quilt I’d inherited, like the house, from my grandmother. An antique cherry armoire and bureau stood along opposite walls. Next to the bow window, the Christmas tree was draped in twinkle lights, swags of gold tinsel, and wooden replicas of Victorian toys.

I closed the door behind me and hurried to the antique cherry armoire, where the Lady Smith resided in a top shelf gun safe. Fingers flying, I punched in the code and pulled out the matte black automatic.

Yep, fully loaded, safety on.

Feeling a lot more secure — and a bit stupid at my freak-out — I put the gun down on the cherry nightstand and started undressing. We always dressed up for weddings, but shooting video requires stringing cable on your hands and knees. Not the kind of thing you do in a dress and hose. Today I’d worn a black wool pantsuit and an ice-blue silk blouse. For a moment, I distracted myself with the memory of Bob in a suit. The jacket had needed no padding to call attention to his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. Not to mention that perfectly muscled ass…

Cut it out, Carole. No lusting after Marley’s husband.

Still, I loved the intent look he got in those gray eyes whenever he was setting up a shot. There was something sensual in the way his powerful hands gripped one of our commercial-grade video cameras, balancing it effortlessly on one strong shoulder…

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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

 

Meri, Briana, Sheala (Celestial Passions) by Judy Mays #scifi #boxset #aliens @changelingpress

Brianna finds herself hurtling through space married to a sexy alien –
with a very flexible tail!

 

Meri, Brianna, Sheala (Celestial Passions 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Scifi, Alien Encounters,
Alternative Universe, Bisexual and More

 

Thousands of years ago, the dols and the orcs disappeared from the aquatic planet of Mediria because the three races refused to stop warring with one another. Their departure in huge space ships so shocked the Medirians, Aradabs, and Nissians that the three races immediately ceased all hostilities and vowed to work together to find the dols and orcs and bring them home.

Meri: When Lillalistross don al’ Ademis of Drakan, the planet orbiting the Medirian sun exactly opposite Mediria, returns a kidnapped child to the Aradab, the tattoo on his chest catches the attention of Princess Merilinlalissa. Meri is convinced the tattoo, his clan totem — a dol leaping from the waves of a rolling blue sea — is connected with finding the dols and the orcs, and she’s going to find out how. The fact that he’s tall, handsome, and very sexy only makes her more determined to discover all she can about him.

Brianna: Brianna does what any decent human would do — she rescues a pair of aliens her boss is about to dissect and gets them back to their spaceship. Captain Alalakan don al’ Cardadon isn’t about to let Dr. Bakom conduct his ridiculous sexual experiments on an inhabitant from a newly discovered world, even if it means he has to marry her. Besides, he wants her — in his bed, on the floor, against the wall, and anywhere else he can think of. Brianna finds herself hurtling through space married to a very sexy alien — with a very flexible tail — from a planet where hedonism is the norm, and there are three sexes — male, female, and hermaphrodite. But Dr. Bakom wants Brianna, too, and he is willing to do anything to get her back.

Sheala: The virile lion man with golden hair, tufted ears, and an Alalakan dragon tattoo on his shoulder fascinates Sheala. Hoping Marljas will heal her physically and mentally, Sheala initiates the blood ritual that would bind her to him forever. The fire he ignites in her soul does much, much more.

Now Available at Changeling Press
Pre-Order at Amazon, iTunes, B&N 

 

cooltext304363307361440

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Judy Mays
Excerpt from Meri

“Men are idiots!” Meri growled as she stomped down the long hall toward her parents’ private apartments. Vibrant murals of ocean creatures leaping among foaming waves adorned the left wall of the corridor while on the right a soft, salty breeze wafted through the open, floor-to-ceiling windows and swirled amongst the gauzy blue-green curtains.

Meri ignored the colorful dance. “Idiots, idiots, idiots! All of them!”

“Surely you aren’t talking about me, Coz?”

Stopping abruptly, Meri spun around and glared at her cousin. Then, after shaking her head and mumbling a curse under her breath, she launched herself against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. “Ban! When did you get back?” Leaning back in his arms, she cocked an eyebrow and stared into his handsome face. “And you know very well you aren’t an idiot. You may be a scoundrel, a womanizer, and an unrepentant drain on the royal coffers, as Grandmama likes to say, but you are not an idiot.”

His grin widened and he bussed Meri’s cheek. “If you hadn’t been complaining about men, I’d blame your snit on Grandmama. What’s wrong? Every servant I’ve encountered is tiptoeing around like there’s a wet Gattan in the palace.”

Pushing herself out of his loose embrace, Meri tucked her hand under his arm and led him down the corridor at a much more sedate pace. “Oh, it’s Grandmama’s fault all right. She refuses to acknowledge that I’ve abdicated my status as heir to the throne, has stated it’s time I married and has told Tendallis Davenet that he is the perfect consort. What’s more, she told him that Father completely agrees with her!”

A short bark of laughter exploded from her cousin’s throat. “Tendallis Davenet? That pompous imbecile? Why him?”

Meri ground her teeth. “Because his family is old and has royal blood in their ancestry. Something like ten generations ago, one of the daughters married the fourth son of the king, which, according to Grandmama, makes Tendallis the most logical choice for my husband. Not ten minutes ago, that pompous moron accosted me on the beach, patted my hand and told me not to worry my pretty head about governing Mediria. He’ll take care of all that. I’d only need to raise the children.” Meri snorted. “As if he’d have any idea how to govern our peoples!” She snorted again. “As if I’d allow it! He’d have us at war with both Varce and Gattan in a week’s time. But it doesn’t even matter, damn it! I am not going to be Mediria’s next ruler! Why won’t Grandmama believe me?”

Pulling Meri to a halt, Ban turned her to face him. “Because she refuses to accept that everyone won’t bow to her wishes. Calm down, Coz. You’ve abdicated and your father and the Council have accepted it. Ignore Grandmama. I do.”

After staring into her cousin’s grinning face for a few seconds, Meri felt her lips twitch. As usual, he was right. She was getting worked up over nothing.

He cocked his head to the side and chuckled. “Besides, you wouldn’t have made a very good queen anyway. You spend too much time thinking about sex. Are you sure there isn’t a bit of Drakian blood somewhere in the royal line — other than mine, that is?”

Without warning, Meri punched Ban in the stomach and got a great deal of satisfaction watching him double over. “Bandalardrac Hardan! Just because you’re half Drakian and obsessed with sex doesn’t mean anyone else in the family is!”

Hands on her hips, Meri watched her cousin cough and wheeze as he stood doubled over with one hand braced against the wall. More than once she’d rued the day that she’d cornered her cousin with some very specific questions about sex, but he’d been the one person she knew would answer her honestly. Sure, she could have asked her mother, but somehow she didn’t think the current queen of Mediria would be very comfortable talking about sex toys.

Ban, on the other hand…

Shaking her head, Meri once again forced herself to admit Ban was the best-looking member of her extended family. Her cousin Bandalardrac was a very attractive man — too damned attractive for his own good. Even without the tail his Drakian relatives possessed, half the women on two planets wanted him in their beds, and, according to gossip, he’d been in most of them. Who better to ask about kinky sex?

She pursed her lips. Was Ban right? Did she think about sex too much? It wasn’t like she’d had all that much experience. Being a Medirian princess made casual sexual relations hard. There was always the chance her partner would begin to get ideas about becoming her consort, and she had yet to meet a man who she’d even consider marrying. Her grandmother’s choice was definitely unacceptable. Oh, Tendallis was handsome enough by Medirian standards, but he was also pompous and arrogant. She could never marry a man who thought he was better than almost everyone else.

Ban’s voice pulled her from her musings. “By all the seven hells, Meri,” he finally gasped. “Who taught you to punch like that?”

She snorted. “I spent six months with the Aradab Matriarch. She said I needed to learn a few things.” Meri didn’t even try to keep the satisfaction from her voice. Grabbing Ban’s arm, she pulled him forward. “Come on. Father and Mother will want to know you’re back.”

 

cooltext304363491931757

Sexier than a Hollywood starlet! More buxom than a Vegas showgirl. Able to split infinitives with a single key stroke!

Look! At the computer!
It’s a programmer!
It’s a computer nerd!
No! It’s – Judy Mays!

Yes, Judy Mays – erotic romance writer extraordinaire who came to Earth with powers and abilities beyond those of mortal authors. Judy Mays! Who can write wild, wanton werewolves; adorable, alluring aliens; vexing, vivacious vamps; hot, haunting historicals; compelling, combustible contemporaries; sexy, surprising suspense, and cagey, cuddly kitty cats; and, who, disguised as a mild-mannered tenth grade English teacher in a small public high school, fights a never ending battle for Hot Hunks, Hip Heroines, and Salacious Sensuality!

Visit her website at http://www.JudyMays.com or join her reader’s group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/judymays

 

 

Ghost Hunting by Mychael Black #GayRomance #Christmas #PNR @changelingpress @mychael_black

Hoping for a real haunting may be the one Christmas wish
Caleb shouldn’t have made this year!

 

Ghost Hunting (Christmas Spirits 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Christmas, Gay, Silver Fox

As the resident medium for Southern Kansas Haunts, Caleb Ryan is used to overacting for the camera. He hates it, but the show pays well. The small city of Tory, Kansas, doesn’t have much more to offer, even though he longs for something… real.

Scott Pennington, heir to an aging farm on the outskirts of Tory, desperately needs help. When no other groups will talk to him so close to Christmas, he turns to the crew of the local ghost-hunting show, Southern Kansas Haunts.

Caleb hopes this “investigation” pays off, but he quickly finds more than he bargains for at the old Pennington farm.

 

Now Available at Changeling Press
Pre-Order at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo for December 7th

 

cooltext305124184649700

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Mychael Black

“Look, I’m just saying that maybe a little more… drama is what we need. Just a little –”
Caleb Ryan threw his hands up, exasperated. “I might say I feel something when I don’t. I might overact for the camera. But I will not pretend to talk an old lady’s dead husband!”

“Um, Caleb,” someone said from behind him.

Whirling around, Caleb continued, “I will not…” He blinked. “Oh. Uh, hi?”

The director’s assistant smiled rather sheepishly. “Sorry to interrupt. This is Mr. Scott Pennington.”

“Scott,” the silver fox said, extending one hand to Caleb. “Just call me Scott.”

Caleb dumbly nodded before managing to kick his brain into gear. “Um, Caleb Ryan. How can I help you? Are you a fan of the show?”

Scott glanced at the assistant and the director, both of whom left. He cleared his throat. “I got your name from a waitress in Pratt,” he said. “She gave me a list of names, people who deal with… otherworldly things. No other groups near here will see me until after Christmas. I’m kind of desperate, to be honest.”

Caleb nodded. “Yeah, I don’t observe it, so I’m usually the one folks come to this time of year. What sort of otherworldly things are you talking about?”

“Ever hear of Pennington Farm?”

Caleb snorted out a laugh. “Are you kidding? Everyone’s heard of that place! The old loon who owned it fled the house and refused to go back. Rumor has it that it’s haunted, but no one’s been able to get in to investigate.” Caleb narrowed his gaze. “Why?”

Scott drew a key from his pocket and held it up. “That old loon was my uncle. The farm is mine now. And I need help.”

“I see,” Caleb muttered. “Um, we’re wrapping up here, but I’d love to talk to you about it. When’s a good time?”

“You free for dinner?” Scott asked.

Ignoring the brief thrill of having a not-date with the gorgeous man, Caleb nodded. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“This is the first time I’ve been back this way in almost thirty years.” Scott pulled out his wallet and handed Caleb a business card. “Give me a text or call when you’re done, and I’ll meet you wherever. I’m staying at the Spicer Inn in downtown Pratt.”

Caleb glanced at the card, then smiled and nodded. “Sure thing. Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or so?”

“That works,” Scott said. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you then.”

Caleb watch the man walk away, unable to stop staring at muscular thighs and a tight butt encased in slightly faded denim. Thirty years? Judging by the hint of silver in the dark hair, Caleb put Scott Pennington in mid-forties, maybe. It didn’t matter. Caleb would sit up and beg just to see lust in those luminous baby blues.

Fingers snapped in front of his face. Caleb shook his head. “Sorry.”

His friend and fellow investigator, Jay, just laughed. “What was that about?”

Caleb studied the business card. “We may be the first to investigate Pennington Farm.”

“What?”

He met Jay’s gaze and held up the card, emblazoned with Scott Pennington, Homicide in dark blue across the middle. Below it, in black: St. Louis Police.

“Holy shit,” Jay muttered.

“Yeah. I’m meeting him tonight to talk it over.”

Jay smirked. “Talk what over? The farm investigation? Or getting into his pants?”

“Asshole. The farm, dude. Yeah, he’s hot, but I doubt he’s gay.”

“You never know,” Jay said with a shrug. “Just because he’s a cop doesn’t mean he doesn’t like guys.”

“I know.” Caleb pocketed the card. “Anyway, enough of that. Let’s get this stuff finished up. I’m eager to hear what he has to say.”

 

cooltext305124175641891

Myc has been writing professionally since 2005, solo and with Shayne Carmichael. Genres include pretty much anything (no steampunk yet), though Myc is well known for paranormal stories. When not writing, Myc is usually playing PC games, reading, editing, watching movies and shows on Netflix and Amazon, or spending way too much time on Facebook.

https://arianderwyddbooks.wordpress.com

Krampus Bah Humbug by Crymsyn Hart #DarkDesire #DarkFantasy #PNR #GayRomance #NewRelease @changelingpress @crymsynhart

Krampus has to get with the holiday attitude or lose all that he holds dear.
Bah, Humbug!

 

Krampus Bah Humbug (Christmas Spirits 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Bisexual and More,
Christmas, Dark Desire, Gay, Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures

 

When Krampus gets called to help find a missing Incarnation, he finds himself in over his head. It takes a little bit of magic and a help from a couple friends to win the day. More than one surprise looms that will turn his whole world upside down. Krampus has to get with the holiday attitude or lose all that he holds dear.

 

Now Available at Changeling Press
Pre-Order at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo for December 7th

 

cooltext304365278520834

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Crymsyn Hart

“Harder, Clo,” Emerald murmured as she bent over. Krampus slid his hands over her appealing ass and squeezed her cheeks. She grunted and shot him a look. He flashed her an innocent smile as he leaned over her and nibbled her neck. He raked his claws along her side and cupped her breasts, fingering her nipples until they firmed against his palm. She pressed her ass into his hard-on and groaned. This only made him pinch them harder until she panted.

“It looks like I’ve interrupted something.”

Krampus glanced up over Emerald’s horns into the dark form of Nyx, the Incarnation of Night. Her black dress illuminated in a starburst pattern. The remains of the comet flew across her chest and down her dress until it disappeared. Her silver hair hung in waves around her back. She took a seat on a kitchen stool and picked up one of the undecorated gingerbread men. Nyx broke off one of its arms and a muffled scream from the dough filled the kitchen. “These are good.”

Emerald straightened up and wiped her hands on her apron. Krampus slung his arm around her and kissed her, tasting the nutmeg and vanilla on her lips. He trailed his fingers through her hair and over her small horns until she squirmed. He couldn’t get enough of her no matter where they were or what she was doing. If he didn’t need to prepare for his holiday duties, he would’ve spent every moment he could fucking her. Krampus broke the kiss, leaving his wife breathless as Emerald moved out of the way for him to get at the dough. She was having a rough time rolling out on this batch.

Krampus rolled up his sleeves and latched onto the wooden handles of the two-foot marble rolling pin. The brown dough quivered as it tried to get away, but he pressed down and rolled it into submission.

“What do you want, Nyx?” Krampus asked.

Emerald went over to their guest and sat on her lap. Nyx — along with several other Incarnations — had been welcomed into their bed over the past few months. Nyx slid her hand along Emerald’s face and met her lips. Krampus tore his gaze away from them making out. Knowing that Emerald enjoying being with others in their bed made it all worthwhile. She didn’t get jealous when he slept with someone else. She knew he always came back to her.

“Your lips taste like cinnamon, Em,” Nyx crooned. “How about we get upstairs and take advantage of the alone time?” She skated her hand under Emerald’s dress.
“That’d be nice.”

“What alone time? Nyx, you’re not here just to enjoy our flesh. Why are you here?” Krampus pounded the rolling pin down on the dough.

His wife moaned when Nyx stopped her caresses. “Right, business first. Pleasure later. Your help has been requested.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not this again. It’s getting close to Christmas. I have things to do and a lot of new bells to forge. A lot of naughty children have cropped up this year, and I’m particularly hungry for flesh that doesn’t come from my farm. The human meat I have here is a bit lean for my taste. The children are all fattening up while they wait for the Claus and baking him cookies.” He gritted his teeth as he thought about his arch nemesis. He might have rescued him and the Mrs. one time, but that didn’t mean all things were kosher between them. Although, he did make Claus promise to visit Emerald since she had nothing to do with their rivalry.

“Sorry, Krampus. They asked for you specifically. They’ve done me a few favors in the past. I couldn’t turn them down.” Nyx got up.

Emerald came back behind the counter and began mixing up another batch of gingerbread, so they could fix some of the older ones whose crumbs littered the house. Sometimes the older ones got a bit ornery and hungry and ate the newer ones. The cannibal gingers were a part of his special creation, but they listened well and got along with the tin soldiers and nutcrackers who kept guard on his property.

“Come on, Clo. You enjoy helping people. You just hide behind that gruff exterior. Big and scary with the horns. The clomping around of your hooves as you chase those poor children,” Emerald joked.

He licked his lips when he thought about the children he would catch. “It’s not just children, love. You know I bring back men, too.”

Emerald made a disgusted face and poured the flour into the mixing bowl. “That’s all you. I’m not into eating human. Remember, I was human until I was cursed because a certain god didn’t like what I told him in the cards.”

Krampus slapped her ass. “You are beautiful with horns or without. Nyx, who am I supposed to be helping now?”

 

cooltext304365291384479

Crymsyn Hart is a National Bestselling author of over eighty paranormal romance and horror novels. Her experiences as a psychic and ghostly encounters have given her a lot of material to use in her books. Vampires, grim reapers, shifters, and other paranormal creatures tend to end up in her books no matter how hard she tries to keep them away.

She currently resides in Charlotte, NC with her hubby and her three dogs. If she’s not writing, she’s curled up with the dogs watching a good horror movie or off with friends.

To find out more about Crymsyn, check out her website on: www.crymsynhart.com