New at Changeling Press: Cimmerian by Torri Heat #darkfantasy @torriheat

The Venators’ secrets are getting darker, but can Ava and Jasper’s love survive the truth?A demon has possessed Ava’s best friend in the pack. Jasper and Ava are fighting an unthinkable deadline to complete an impossible task. It’s Monica’s life against Ava’s in this race against the clock.

But new secrets, new allies, and new mates within the pack turn even the most practical plans into the most dangerous. Werewolves, witches, and weddings make for a deadly combination…

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Torri Heat

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping had been the soundtrack to my life since we had returned to the pack lands, and I was about to snap. I wasn’t sure if I was going to smack Jasper upside the head, or go certifiably insane, but one of the two situations was guaranteed to happen. I was staring at my computer, willing my brain to work, but all I could focus on was the fact I had seven days, and that God awful thumping.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I slammed my laptop shut, swinging my feet over the edge of Adrian’s worn couch, and made my way to the back door. On the back patio, where Adrian had set up a makeshift punching bag, was my boyfriend, Jasper Knight. Who just happened to be working the bag like it had done him wrong in a previous life. We dealt with our nerves and agitation in different ways. I threw myself into work. Jasper threw punches.

I leaned against the frame of the screen door, watching him for a minute, all muscle and tanned skin. If only this were a different time, a different life. “Something bothering you?” I asked.

Thump. “No,” Jasper grunted. He gave the bag a solid right hook that sent it swinging, then reached across, pulling it back into place.

I sighed, crossing my arms. “Jasp. We have to talk about this.” This meaning the demon currently cohabiting Lucy’s body, while expecting me to bring my mother to them.

He gave me a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, before hitting the bag with a deadly uppercut. “Nothing to talk about.”

Jasper hadn’t come to bed last night after we got home from the party. The party where I had run away deep into the forest, after Lucy who wasn’t really Lucy. Where a demon demanded my mother or myself pay the debt in seven days. We had decided it was safer to be on pack lands while we sorted all of this out and had arrived at Adrian’s doorstep. Adrian hadn’t seemed surprised to see us at his door again and had sleepily gestured toward the already prepped air mattress. I had tossed and turned on the half-deflated mattress, cold without Jasper’s warm skin next to mine. The upside to not sleeping? No dreams to haunt me. Small miracles.

I ran a hand through my hair, glaring at my stubborn boyfriend. “Fine.” I turned to head back into the house, the screen door slamming shut behind me. He’d come in when he was ready, and I wasn’t about to fuel his pouting any more than necessary.

“Wait.” Jasper’s voice called out behind me, and I stopped and looked back. He steadied the bag with a wrapped hand, using the other to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He looked up at me with hooded eyes. “Ava. I… I can’t lose you.” His voice broke, and I nearly broke with it. We had been through so much, more than any two people should. Surely this wouldn’t be enough to bring us down. Fuck that. I wouldn’t let it.

“Jasp, I…” I what? I was sorry? Because I wasn’t. I wouldn’t go look for my mother? Because I would. Anything I was planning to say would’ve been a lie. I met his dark stare, his caramel eyes pleading with me. I shook my head. No. I wouldn’t cave. “Jasper. I have to do this.”

His expression hardened. “I don’t know what kind of hero complex you’ve developed, but you don’t have to.”

Rich coming from him… Jasper happened to be the king of hero complexes. I raised a brow, making sure to keep a lock on my thoughts the best I could. Last thing I needed right now was Jasper hearing everything I was thinking about him, including some choice curse words. “And how do you suggest we deal with the situation at hand? Pretend it’s not happening? Maybe we could offer Beau up as another sacrifice?”

Jasper groaned, opening his mouth to speak, but at that exact moment, Beau rounded the corner. His skin was tanned, a light smattering of freckles covering his bronzed face. He looked healthy, so at odds with the man I had seen in the hospital. He gave me a roguish grin, his teeth white and bright. “What kind of sacrifice are you offering me up as now, baby girl? Are there going to be other girls involved?”

Jasper and I both whipped around, glaring at Beau who merely smirked, raising his hands in defense. “Whoa. Don’t let me interrupt this couple’s spat.”

“I didn’t know you were back.” Jasper ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, giving me a stern look. I knew the look. It meant this conversation wasn’t over.

Beau shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just got back like five minutes ago. Was about to drag my ass to bed, but I heard you working the bag and figured I should stop by first.”

“I’ll let you two get caught up,” I said, refusing to meet Jasper’s glare. His stare bored hotly into my face. “We weren’t talking about anything important.”

I turned and stormed toward the guest room, Beau murmuring apologies to Jasper behind me. He didn’t have anything to apologize for. Jasper was being impossible, immovable, and he needed to understand I had to find Monica.


Torri Heat has always loved control. Her mind was blown when she discovered she could control entire worlds through story writing. Throw some steamy romance in there, and it was pretty close to perfection. Torri loves dark heroes who ride off into the sunset on their motorcycles, fierce heroines who can fend for themselves, and a sprinkle of the paranormal to keep things interesting. When she’s not creating alternate realities you can find her managing her three ring circus of kids and animals.

Find all of Torri’s books and sign up for her newsletter at her website, or follow her on social media. You can also leave reviews!

Now in Paperback: The Slayer by Stephanie Burke #darkfantasy #BDSM @FlashyCat

Revenant is what they call him. For centuries, Kye has not lived, he has merely existed. Moving from city to city, continent to continent, Kye is always searching for the one man who visited upon him the destruction of his family and the shattering of his soul.

Tali is a woman with a mission of her own. Her objective, find the vampire Balthazar and, by any means, send what is left of his soul fleeing from this life.

When two slayers meet, the results are bound to be… Violent. Explosive. And erotic. But if they both work together, they may overcome the insane odds stacked against them and, just possibly, come out alive.

Publisher’s Note: This book was previously published and has been re-edited for this release.

Get the paperback at Amazon


All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Stephanie Burke

God, he hated enemas.

But a man — he snorted at the thought — had to do what he had to do. With a grimace of disgust, he quickly prepared the small plastic bottle and thoroughly cleaned his insides before he headed for the showers. He had to scour away the feeling of violation before he soaked in the vanilla scented waters he’d prepared earlier.

The comforting smell of the perfumed steam was incentive enough for him to hurry through his scrubbing so that he would have adequate time to soothe himself in the steaming waters of his bath.

He stared down at his feet morosely, watching the last of the soapy water roll down the drain, before crossing the tiled room on silent feet. Walking quietly had become second nature to him and more than once it had saved his life. With a barely audible sigh, he lowered himself into the hot water, shuddering slightly as it first burned then loosened his muscles, preparing him for what lay ahead.

He closed his eyes, inhaled her scent, and allowed his thoughts to drift.

Tonight could be the night he found the peace he craved by gleefully slaughtering that bastard and bathing in his blood.

It always came down to his maker and the blood. Both tasted of regret and salvation. The blood and Balthazar were all he craved, hated and feared.

He remembered his first taste, as her blood spurted wetly from her neck, her eyes going wide in pain and fear before they began to glaze over in death. He remembered the tearing at his own throat, his own screams and how sweet Balthazar tasted. How he’d begged for more.

The discreet beeping at his wrist pulled him from his circling thoughts. He had wasted enough time pampering his flesh. It was time to go to work. He rose from the tepid waters, his hair flowing down his body like dark silken waves, clinging to his muscled flesh as he stepped from the tub.

Heedless of the water that splashed the floor, he grabbed a large bath sheet from a rack and wrapped up his dripping hair, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon followed him as he moved. Vanilla was a comforting smell, but also one of remembrance. He would remember always how she delighted in its scent, how after days, she smelled like candy and rot.

He spun around to exit the bath, the smooth pale scars that scored his back catching the light from his bedroom. He’d worked hard so no scar tissue would hinder his movements, worked for years to make the scars soft and supple as the rest of his dark skin.

His eyes were a strange combination of green and gold that constantly warred for supremacy. It had a way of unnerving people, those swirls of green and gold, and that suited him just fine. He wanted to unnerve people, to make them back off with only a stare.

“Thank God gender-fuck is in,” he muttered, as he stopped in front of an expansive wardrobe. With his delicate features and a few strokes of a makeup brush, he could easily make himself look ultra-fem, though his masculine jaw line and the way he moved marked him unmistakably as male.

He tugged the towel away from his hair, tossed back the chin-length bangs that framed the front of his face, and whipped the long mass back over his shoulder.

Quickly he fashioned a long braid with the still slightly damp knee-length hair. He left the fringe to frame his face, making it easy to shake over his eyes and hide his face from scrutiny. He tied a small chain of bells to the end of his braid. It didn’t matter that they tinkled lightly as they brushed against his bottom; he could make them silent when he chose but that sound would likely drive his intended target mad as he tried to discover where the light, joyful sound came from as he was stalked and menaced.

Sometimes, he thought ruefully, he was a bit like a cat, toying with its prey before moving in for the kill.

In the length of the braid he hid seven long metal points, thin enough to be hidden totally in his hair, but strong enough to bring death at a distance.

Tucking his fringe behind his almost too-delicate ears, he returned his attention to the closet.

He pulled a pair of butter soft snow white pants from their hanger. He would have to be careful of the blood. He really liked these pants and no matter how you scrubbed, blood always left reddish-brown stains on white leather.

Slowly he eased the pants up his legs, loving the feel as the leather instantly conformed to his skin. These pants were tight enough that underwear was all but impossible. The pants closed with a thin leather thong that laced across his tight abdomen, emphasizing the muscle definition there as well as exposing the thin line of soft dark hair that started just beneath his navel.

His boots were cross-tied with silver buckles, leaving spaces for the knives and pockets that easily fit beneath the straps. These boots were also made of leather and had very low heels, heels that could be twisted the right way to expose secret compartments that were extra security for a man in his position.

Digging deeper in his closet, he pulled out an embroidered black and red knee length tunic. The Oriental style cut of the tunic included a banded collar and shoulder fasteners of white roped silk. The silk garment was light and easy to maneuver.

After securing the inside and shoulder fasteners, he stepped back to examine himself in the mirror. He looked like a beautiful, androgynous, and sadistic wet dream– almost like his true self. Turning, he wrapped himself in a cloak before ghosting away from his lair. He walked softly into the night, the tinkling of the bells in his hair the only signal of his passing.


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

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

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

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

Book Tour: Loved by a Kraken (Demon Entanglements) by Alexa Piper #darkfantasy @prowlingpiper

Loved By a Kraken

Demon Entanglements Book 2

by Alexa Piper

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Romance

Published by Changeling Press

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

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

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

Praise for Loved by a Kraken (Demon Entanglements)

“The second book in the Demon Entanglements series and the first book I have read in this series. It is a well written short story that I enjoyed reading. Fian’s big brother Mikano is getting married to a human so he decides he wants a human woman as his plus one. He meets jam maker Kiara, but in the town she has moved to all is not right. I found myself laughing as I read this story.”

— 4 Stars from Barbara W, Kobo Review

“Loved by a Kraken was a wonderful love story filled with fantastical creatures and places. Fian was the best character of them all and made the book worth reading. Ms. Piper takes a different twist to the shape-shifter romance while also providing action and adventure.”

— 4 Cups from Delane, Coffee Time Reviews

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Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter!

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Release Blitz: The Devil’s Necromancer by Alexa Piper #LGBTQ #murdermystery #darkfantasy @prowlingpiper

Title: The Devil’s Necromancer

Series: Hellbound 1

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: October 1, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 154

Genre: Romance, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranorma, Suspense, Urban Fantasy, Gay, Magical Creatures, Dark Desire, Zombies, Murder Mystery

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Lionel, a necromancer and consultant for the Brunswick Police Department, wants nothing to do with immortals. Specifically, he wants nothing to do with Lucifer, who shows up on his doorstep one day with a ridiculous proposal. Lucifer, also known as the Devil, wants Lionel to be his pretend boyfriend. Except the pretend part is something the Devil doesn’t really seem to care for.

Lucifer has read enough romance novels to know that a good dose of forced proximity might be just the thing to get the stubborn necromancer he desires into his bed. The Devil’s plans are soon complicated when Lionel proves more uncooperative and oblivious to love than Lucifer could ever anticipate.

While the Devil wants to claim Lionel, all Lionel wants is to get away from Lucifer. Meanwhile, magic users are being murdered in the city. Lionel cannot escape the implications of those murders for long, and the case soon takes a different turn. Will Lionel be able to escape the Devil’s thrall, or will the necromancer fall for the immortal seducer?

Publisher’s Note: The Devil’s Necromancer contains scenes involving dubious consent that some readers may find offensive.


All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

It was past midnight, and the stars that looked like sprinkles of white chocolate in the velvety dark night sky were overshadowed by the city lights and the waxing moon. I lay on the embankment, North Bridge’s metal frame rising just to my right and further hiding the chocolate sprinkle stars. My feet were wet, but I didn’t mind, not the embankment or the wet feet or the stars melting away in the light and the artificial structures around me. The zombie was oozing all over me from its — his — caved-in skull, and I did mind that. Zombie ooze was a bitch to get out of clothes, even if I’d given up on wearing colors years ago. Black simply was the safest bet for a necromancer.

Zombies reeked when they weren’t really fresh, and this one was ripe — fish-market-in-the-summer-heat-three-days-after-closing ripe. I looked up and considered my life choices, all of which had led me here.

“Do you need CPR?” someone said. It was a warm, manly voice, and I was reasonably sure it could make chocolate melt, star-shaped or otherwise.

I stuffed my self-pity away and turned my head to get a better look at the speaker. He was as handsome as a devil, with skin that looked like marble in the glow of the city at night. His hair shimmered liquid black, but it might have been some shade of brown in proper lighting. It went well past his ears and looked styled with care to get that messy, I just got up out of bed after a night of hard fucking look.

“Why the fuck would I need CPR?” I asked. My voice didn’t sound like I’d just considered crying a moment ago, and I was proud of that.

The guy shrugged. “It’s hard to tell with humans. Your kind is so accident prone, and you seem to be having trouble breathing. Or maybe you hit your head? Do you remember how you got here?”

Did he fucking think I was suffering from amnesia or a head injury or something? “I’m having trouble breathing because I have a fucking dead zombie on my chest, asshat,” I said. In my considered necromantic opinion, I was being perfectly polite, even though I couldn’t be sure what kind of creature the guy was. I’d given him a quick glance with my mage sight, and human he was not.

Jeez, I hated gods and otherworldly beings.

“All zombies are dead,” Mr. Sexy said. “It’s a prerequisite. This one seems to have had its brainstem properly destroyed, however.”

“Oh, smarty-pants, thanks a bunch for the lecture. The basics of necromancy have ever escaped me, even after I raised my very first corpse thirteen fucking years ago.” It had been a blackbird that had died when he crashed into a window at my school. I had cradled the poor thing in my hands as it breathed its last, had cried, and that had triggered my necromancer power. Pretty boy did not need to know that. Every other person I’d ever told had made fun of me for it.

“You could have suffered a head injury with amnesia. How am I supposed to know what you know?” He walked toward me. His movements were silent, cat-like, and more elegant than was right. Even despite the zombie oozing out on me, my cock couldn’t quite ignore him. Seriously, though, what was up with his fixation on first aid and amnesia?

He grabbed the zombie by the legs and pulled the dead-dead corpse off me. “Oh. You caved in its skull with a rock,” he said when he saw the murder weapon in question, the goo glistening on its stony surface. Well, it wasn’t really a murder weapon, seeing as how the zombie had been dead, but details. “How traditional.” He held out a hand to me, and I took it and let him pull me back to my feet. “I’m Lucy, by the way. Short for Lucifer, but I prefer Lucy. As in Lucy Westenra, the woman who almost single-handedly turned Dracula into the first reverse harem romance novel ever before she made the wise decision to claim immortality instead. She was such an underrated character, and I really don’t know why people don’t like her more.”

I dusted myself off. Didn’t help with the wet feet or the zombie ooze, which I really only distributed, like soft butter on hot toast. The shirt I was wearing was ruined. Good thing I had a dozen other plain black shirts just like it back home. “Maybe because she fucking ate children.”

He shrugged. “Well, everyone has a craving now and then. No one judges women’s monthly chocolate cravings, and I don’t see how that was so much worse.”

My brain caught up with the conversation. Lucifer? The Lucifer? The fucking Morning Star, seducer of stuffy virgins and lover of apples? I looked at him. Up at him. Asshole was tall and handsome, the kind of guy I could only ever talk to with about three drinks in me. “You’re the Devil? Satan? Beelzebub?”

“Lu-cy,” he said, slowing down as if he was reconsidering the brain damage thing. Even his eyebrows were perfect, which I only noticed because he pulled one of those up, something most people couldn’t do in real life. He could. And he looked hot doing it. Hotter.


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Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter!

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New at Changeling Press: Killian Unbound by Rebecca York #darkfantasy #paranormalromance @RebeccaYork43

Princess Sabina has always obeyed her father, King Norwen. But when he plans to marry her to a ruthless prince, she runs away. Soon captured, she’s thrown into a tower cell to await her punishment.

The prison is already occupied — by a terrifying ghost. Hiding her fears, she befriends him, hoping they might help each other. As they grow close, she realizes he’s not a phantom but an enchanted mortal who remembers nothing of his past. Physical contact with Sabina is the key to bringing back the memory of the man she learns is named Killian. The more intimate they become, the more he remembers.

Their shared adversity forges a bond between them, but will they be free to acknowledge their love for each other, or will her ruthless father capture her and drag her away from the man she’s coming to love?

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Rebecca York

Returning to the straw, Sabina curled on her side and drew her knees up, lying with her eyes closed. She had thought she was in the worst trouble of her life when her father had decreed that she would marry Bayard. Apparently, things could always get worse.

When she felt a ripple of movement in the air of the chamber, her eyes blinked open, probing her surroundings. The afternoon sun was dimming, turning the corners of the room into dark wells. She saw nothing, heard nothing, yet now that she was lying here quietly, she sensed an unseen presence watching her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she sat up.

The sods had primed her expectations, and tension sizzled through her as she waited for the specter to show itself. She must stay awake and watchful, but exhaustion tugged at her. After a few minutes, she dropped off to sleep, and for a few blessed hours, she was lost to the world — until a moaning noise made her jerk awake. Disoriented, she struggled to remember where she was and why.

All the horror came rushing back. Her father had sent men to find her. Now she was in a prison cell that was supposed to be haunted. Moonlight filtered in through the window. But from where she lay in the corner of the room, she could see little. In the darkness, she strained to bring the scene into focus.

Inching back, she sat up and pressed against the wall, creating a false sense of comfort. At least nothing could sneak up behind her. Or might a specter have that ability?

The moan came again, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. It sounded like something out of a ghost story. In the next moment, she felt an eerie vibration in the air around her that sent invisible fingers walking up and down her spine. It was followed by a low hum that steadily increased, jarring her teeth as the sound reached a painful level.

She might have screamed for it to stop if she’d thought that would do any good. Clamping her hands over her ears and pulling her elbows in close, she hunched down, trying to make herself a smaller target for whatever was making itself known in this fashion. But the wind rose to gale levels, blowing through the room like a winter storm. In a desperate effort to find shelter, she pulled the blanket over her head, but a strong gust came out of nowhere, ripping the covering from her fingers.

It was a deliberate assault. Or mayhap a display of power. Clenching her teeth, she fought not to scream. The presence in this room, whatever it was, wanted to scare the spit out of her, and it was doing an excellent job. The bowl and pitcher, plate and cup on the table began to rattle. Then one by one, they flew off the horizontal surface and bounced against the wall. She put her arms over her head for protection, but none of the flying objects hit her. After they’d crashed to the stone floor, the slop bucket clattered to its side.

There was nowhere for her to hide from the whirlwind. All she could do during the storm was flatten herself against the wall, her fists clamping around handfuls of straw. She would have sworn the room was rocking, although she didn’t know how that would be possible. She let out a sigh of relief as the swaying stopped, but there was more to come. A finger of wind came down, poking at her body. Touching her face, her neck, her breasts, then farther down to the juncture of her legs.

She slid to the side, trying to get away from the too intimate assault, wondering how much more of this she could stand. “Stop it,” she shouted into the tempest. “Stop it! You’re not going to drive me mad with these childish tricks.”

She wasn’t sure where the bold words came from, mayhap from her frustration at one more indignity.

The wind had lessened in response to her order. Encouraged, she sat up and stared across the room. There was nothing to see, only a sense of whirling air. “Stop your ridiculous temper tantrum,” she ordered. “If we’re locked in here together, don’t you think it’s better to be friends?”

The wind calmed.

Building on her success, she switched to her best princess voice. “I’d be grateful if you cleaned up the mess you’ve made with the bucket.”

For a long moment nothing happened. Then in the dim light, Sabina saw the wind attack the puddle that had spread onto the floor when the makeshift chamber pot had tipped over. As she watched, the liquid began to flow toward the crack at the bottom of the door, then out onto the landing. She hoped one of the human vermin out there would slip in it.

“Thank you,” she said politely.

The bucket righted itself. The other items in the room began returning to the table one by one, as though someone was gathering them up and carrying them. But she still saw no one. The response amazed her. Emboldened, she asked, “Were you trying to frighten me?”

There was a long pause before a low voice that came from the wind answered, “Yes.”

Elated that they were communicating, she asked, “Who are you?”

After another hesitation, it answered, “I do not know.”

“What are you?”

Again the hesitation. Again a mournful reply, “I wish I knew.”

The words and the defeated tone of the disembodied voice made Sabina’s stomach clench. “Do you know how long you’ve been here?” she asked.

“No.” The voice was deep and masculine.

“Mayhap we can figure it out together.”

“Why would you do that?” he challenged.

She thought about her own situation — and his. “Because I can tell you are suffering.”

When he spoke again, she caught a mixture of roiling emotions — anger, surprise, hope. “Nobody else who came here ever wanted to help me.”

“Mayhap because of the way you introduced yourself.”

When the observation was met by silence, she asked, “What can you tell me about yourself?”

This time the response was angry. “Nothing. My memory is wiped clean, like ripples from a still pond. Everything before I… found myself here is a black void.” He made a frustrated sound. “I do not even know where here is.”

“This is a room in an old fortress, or maybe a small castle.”

“What country is this?” he asked suddenly.


“I do not know it.”

“I think we are in the eastern part of the country. I’ve never been to this place before, either. Armed men brought me here after a long ride through the countryside. They did not wear the gold and black livery of my father’s guards. They were dressed like ruffians, but that could be a disguise.”


“My father is the king of Longmead. I ran away from his castle. I’m sure he has sent men to search for me, but he might not want it widely known that I have absconded.”


“So the wrong people will not know I am missing. My father wants to cement an alliance with a neighboring country by marrying me to the prince there.” It was her turn to feel frustrated. “But these men may be acting on their own, thinking to exchange me for a fortune in gold.” She sighed. “It could be that my father does not know my whereabouts.”

“That sounds… messy.”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “And I guess you don’t know why you are here.”

The answer came in a burst of the ghost’s familiar anger. “I told you, I know nothing. I can explain nothing.”

She struggled to remain calm as rage and frustration flowed around her in the tower room. “Then tell me what I can do to help you?”


New York Times and USA Today Best-Selling Author Rebecca York began her career as a journalist writing articles for newspapers and magazines, but after several years decided to try writing fiction. She’s a highly successful author of over 50 romantic suspense and paranormal novels and is the head of the Columbia Writers Workshop. Her many awards include two Rita finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times: for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. Her Peregrine Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense Series. She collects rocks, and enjoys cooking, walking, reading, gardening, travel, and Mozart operas.

Visit the author online: Facebook | Twitter | Website

Cover Reveal: The Unbroken by Destiny Hawkins #darkfantasy #dystopian @That_1_author

The Unbroken
Destiny Hawkins
(The Descendants, #3)
Publication date: April 2022
Genres: Adult, Dark Fantasy, Dystopian, Science Fiction

Best-selling author Destiny Hawkins brings you the third installment of a gripping dark fantasy where a powerless girl must survive in a society that doesn’t accept the weak…or the defective.

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Author Bio:

Destiny Hawkins is a multi-genre author with a dark imagination and a love for magic.

She enjoys cooking, running, swimming, listening to music, reading, and of course watching anime filled with fantasy! Her favorite genres to read and work in are Fantasy, LGBT, Paranormal, Romance, Dystopian, Sci-fi, and young adult. She’s been a writer since she was nine years old, with Caged being her very first novel, and she has more to come!! Much…much more.

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Now in Paperback: Paranormal B&B by M.D. Stewart #LGBTQ #darkfantasy @gooseandmindi

A sexy ghost, a demon, a vampire, a Drag Queen, and a Halfling find their true mates in this small town.

Born for You (Paranormal B&B 1): Matson — Being gay in my little town? It’s not been easy. The ghost of a murdered man tugs at my heartstrings. Is he real, or just a figment of my imagination?

Born an Empty Soul (Paranormal B&B 2): Killian — I’m a singer in a famous indie band, but I’ve been alone for a century, living off others’ pain — until I meet my mates. Now I have to do everything I can to convince them they are mine, or I’ll die.

Born a Changeling (Paranormal B&B 3): Ben — I try not to let my daughter have everything she wants, but I can’t say no to keeping the large cat she finds while we’re on vacation. Then the cat turns into a very sexy man who crashes into my life and steals my heart.

Born A Halfling (Paranormal B&B 4): Jessie — I met Michael in Afghanistan, and helped the injured Marine heal in body and soul. When we meet again at Chasers, a gay bar, where he’s a Drag Queen, I still want him — and the man he’s in love with.

Born a Demon (Paranormal B&B 5): Conner — I never thought I’d want a future with another man, but I want one with Rager, a demon from a different dimension. I can forgive his past transgressions, but is happiness really possible when I learn my entire life has been a lie?

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Copyright ©2021 M.D. Stewart
Excerpt from Born For You


Life gets boring when you’ve been haunting the same area for over a hundred years. Especially since no one came by for me to scare anymore. The one thing I did look forward to were the visits by the man standing at the edge of the trees.

Matson Gannon Ashby.

I’d watched him grow up. When he was a child, he’d stop by and I could hear his heart pounding in fear. But as he aged, he’d started to talk to me. He’d bring silver coins to toss into the woods each time he came. And each time he did it, he said, “For you, Josiah.”

It pissed me off at first, thinking he was being sarcastic, since I was murdered for greed. I had heard his grandfather telling him how I was killed for my hidden stash of money and my mother’s jewels. Matson seemed sincere though, and with each visit, he tossed the coins.

So I started watching him. It’s not like he could see me; I’d just get closer to him and watch his face. In time, I looked forward to his visits, which grew infrequent after he went to college. Seeing him now made my heart pound.

I was surprised by my reaction to him. When he was a child, I’d felt protective of him, almost like a guardian. As he grew up, my feelings changed from wanting to watch over him, to wanting to touch him. My cold, dead heart felt like a flower blooming inside my chest every time he stopped by for a visit. I didn’t understand why I felt these feelings. I’d never had tender feelings for any human being. Why would I? I went from a fifteen-year-old child to an injured war veteran, to a murdered man and finally to a bitter, avenging ghost.

And yes, I had slain my killers. It hadn’t been difficult to find them. My murder felt like a glowing connection from me to the bastards who’d shot me. I began to haunt them, whisper in their ears, run my finger down their bodies, leaving chill bumps. I drove them crazy, made them question their life’s choices. After all, they’d never even found my hidden stash — I was shot and killed for no reason.

Once I realized my body could cross the thinned Death Veil on Halloween and become corporeal, I’d hunted the men down and killed them, one by one. Once I had my revenge, I never used the thinning Veil between the worlds again. I’d never wanted to be human again.

Until now.

In many ways, Matson’s visits gave me the peace that had eluded me my entire life, as both human and specter. I got attached to him and could follow him home and keep him safe from the Other Things that live between his world and mine.

Humans have no inkling about the paranormal side of things. Which, believe me, is a good thing. Ghosts aren’t the only beings that go “bump in the night.” Angels and demons are just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Most times these magical beings like to stay hidden from humans, but some creatures like to attach to the weaker ones and siphon off their essence. There’s some scary stuff that’s hidden from human beings. Be thankful for that.

But this particular visit of Matson’s felt…different. He drew me, called me to him. I felt his loneliness, and for the first time, I saw him as an adult. When he made the invitation for me to come to him, I couldn’t resist. I bent down and picked up the silver dollar and placed it in my pocket before I slipped into the car beside Matson.

I had visited the big house a few times when Etta Jo got older. When she passed, I helped her cross over, something that never happened with me. Either no one on the Otherside cared enough to guide me, or I didn’t deserve it.

But Etta was a powerful medium. She could communicate with me and frequently did over the years. It established a deeper link between her family and me. That was ironic, because her great-grandfather was one of my killers.

Now, as Matson got out of the car and walked into the house, I could see the sadness cross his features. As he stood in the living room, I reached my hand out and touched his shoulder. To my shock, he placed his hand over mine. Or to be more precise, through it. I don’t know if he knew it was me or if he thought it was Etta Jo, but my touch comforted him. My heart broke for the pain he was suffering.

I had no idea how long we stood there before he whispered he was fine. I got the feeling he needed time alone to process his grief.

I went outside, and lost track of time. When you’re a spirit, time ceases to mean anything. I wondered why I wanted to be so close to Matson. I’ve seen hundreds of people in my specter-life. None drew me as he did, though I was more than one hundred years older. Hell, even if I’d been human, I’d be too old for him. I was fifty-three when I died, and Matson was about thirty.

Wait, what was I thinking? Too old for him?

I’d have to be crazy to feel that way about another man. I’d never been attracted to men before. Had I? I was only fifteen when I joined the Confederate Army. Sixteen when I was shot and seventeen when I came home from war. Then I spent my entire life bitter and alone. I’d never kissed another human being. I never wanted to. But something about Matson called to me. Could I really have sexual desires toward another man? I wasn’t sure, but I knew, if I were human, I’d want to find out with the man in that house.

My body began to tingle, and suddenly I needed to get inside. I needed to be near Matson. And I wasn’t going to let my fears stop me.


I grew up in southern West Virginia, where I spent hours, drawing, watching television and reading. As a result, I combined my love of science fiction (unashamed Trekkie) and romance (thanks to mom’s Harlequin Romance Novels collection) to create my own Universe. I hope my books can transport you to faraway worlds where there’s always a happily ever after!

Dark Reign/Clutch Wars by Mychael Black #multiplepartners #darkfantasy

Marcus’ werewolf pack faces a deadly vampire hell-bent on revenge. And then there’s the dragons…

Dark Reign: Marcus has spent most of his life saving his fellow weres from his ex-lover, vampire Dalton Gray, but after one of his Enforcers slaughter Gray’s guards they’re headed for war. His allies are few in number until unexpected help arrives — but that brings a whole new set of problems, including an injured child. And inside knowledge of Gray’s operations.

Meting out justice to the vampires who attacked his lover is easy for Daniel. Dealing with the fallout from hidden truths coming to light? That’s the hard part.

Clutch Wars: As the last female dragon shifter, Tia’s the only hope for her species’ survival. That means mating, which wouldn’t be problem—if she wanted to be a queen. She doesn’t.

Meanwhile, the Navarro clan is headed for war with a demon force hellbent on wiping them out. Demons don’t play fair, and they force Mason to make hard choices. When the clan is surprised by an ambush, Korin seeks revenge. But what price is he willing to pay?

Publisher’s Note: Dark Reign/Clutch Wars contains the previously published Dark Reign novellas Found, Oathbound, Atonement and Fight or Flight, and the Clutch Wars novellas The Reluctant Queen, Regan’s Folly, Sub Rosa, and Sovereign.

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Praise for Found

“I’ll happily recommend this book to friends because Mychael Black’s werewolves are darned hot to read about. Where can I find one of my own?”

— 4 Cherries from Tiger Lily, Whipped Cream Reviews

“The love scenes are incredible. Mychael Black has created a fantastic story.”

— 4.5 Nymphs from Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs

Praise for Oathbound

“…a superior example of exceptionally sensual lovemaking. Oathbound is an impressive, as well as, incredibly enjoyable saga.”

— Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs Reviews

Praise for Atonement

“Mychael Black has created another superb installment to this series. Atonement is an exceedingly enjoyable illustration of dramatic moments, heartwarming characters as well as a happily-ever-after climax.”

— 5 Nymphs from Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs Reviews

“Darkly sensual and mysterious, Atonement is a captivating story of redemption. Fast paced, scorching hot, and suspenseful from start to finish…”

— Lisa, Joyfully Reviewed

Praise for Fight or Flight

“Another interesting addition to a very imaginative m/m erotic series that introduces very sensual characters who have survived personal traumas. This is a very sizzling entry…”

— 4 Stars from ELF, Night Owl Reviews

“Mychael Black has created a wonderful, as well as enjoyable, installment to this series. I found Eric to be an especially impressive character.”

— 4 Nymphs from Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs Reviews

Praise for The Reluctant Queen

“This is the first of a new series that may be a quickie, but it is one helluva good ride. The reader can enjoy this book in one sitting. Take a load off and enjoy this new series.”

— 5 Stars from Angibabi4, Night Owl Reviews

“Melting hawt manlove is on the menu for this new series from Mychael Black. For dragonshifter lovers, this is a good new series to start reading. It’s fast, furious, and arousing.”

— BookAddict, Manic Reviews


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, watching Netflix, and spending way too much time on Facebook. Since the question has come up in the past, pronouns are not an issue. Myc is bio-female, mentally male, and 100% genderfluid, so any pronoun works!

Forever Kisses Vol. 1 by NYT Bestseller Angela Knight #BDSM #darkfantasy @AngelaKnight

Forever Kiss: Valerie is haunted by dreams of a man she knows only as Cowboy, her seductive lover. But Cowboy is real. And he’s a vampire. Cade is the only one who can protect Valerie from Ridgemont, his Sire, and he’s determined to do just that — even if he must kidnap her to keep her safe.

Caught in a web of fear and passion, Valerie and Cade must learn to trust one another, even as Ridgemont stalks their every move. Their only hope of survival is the Forever Kiss.

Beth’s Kiss: Beth’s world comes crashing down when she’s kidnapped by Joaquin, a deadly immortal who means to use her in a plot to kill a pair of handsome vamps. Morgan and Garret are determined to avenge themselves against Joaquin, who murdered the woman they loved.

When they rescue Beth they must complete her transformation, saving her from the vampire virus raging through her system. But if Beth is to have a future with her two vampires, they must settle accounts with the ancient, powerful killer and his army of mercenaries.

Author’s Note: Forever Kiss was first published in 2004 and has been revised extensively, including added scenes and updated tech. I want to include a warning for those who might be triggered by the sexual assaults committed by the villains. I avoided going into detail and/or cut away from those scenes before they got truly horrific, but they’re certainly implied.

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight
Excerpt from Forever Kiss

“I need you tonight.” His voice emerged from the darkness, a low male rumble of heat and hunger. “Will you give yourself to me?”

Valerie Chase sat up in her tumbled bed. The cowboy stood just outside the open French doors, watching her from the balcony as moonlight spilled around him. The brim of his white Stetson shadowed his face. It always had. She’d never seen his features clearly, not in all the years she’d dreamed of him.

His white cotton shirt stretched over broad shoulders and tucked into the worn jeans that hugged his long, muscled legs. Moonlight glinted on the star of a Texas Ranger pinned to his leather vest. He wore two gun belts crossed over lean hips, the holstered Colt revolvers forming a seductive frame for the thick, impressive ridge of his erection.

It was the way he’d always looked in her dreams, her cowboy fantasy, her dream lover. Her hero.


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

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

Release Blitz: The Basilisk’s Lover by Alexa Piper #GayRomance #darkfantasy @prowlingpiper @GoIndiMarketing

Title: The Basilisk’s Lover

Series: Fairview Chronicles #8

Author: Alexa Piper

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Release Date: August 6, 2021

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 140

Genre: Romance, Thriller/Suspense, Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Romantic Comedy, Urban Fantasy, Alternative Universe, Dark Desire, Elves, Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay, Magic, Murder Mystery, Shapeshifters, Werewolves & Wolf Shifters

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Leon is a basilisk, a snake-demon. He is also a teacher and used to hiding his true nature, that dark secret that has always kept him apart from others. When he meets Cy, what Leon thought would just be a fling quickly turns into more. Cy and Leon may be from different worlds, but with a dangerous creature feeding on the students at Fairview University where Leon teaches, those worlds soon collide.

Cy finds himself pulled into a world of mages and shapeshifters, of seductive snake-demons. To help find what is murdering students at the university, Cy, along with the St. John Investigations team, decides to go undercover. He ends up a university student once more — and Leon is his hot teacher.

Cy will need to come to grips with the supernatural and with his feelings for Leon. If opposites truly attract, the cold-blooded basilisk and the warm-blooded human might just find their way to a happily-ever-after, but not before they figure out what haunts Fairview University — and put a stop to it.


All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

The train rattled and hummed with that train noise that was so well suited to becoming just background static, a near invisible pressure on every passenger’s eardrums. Yet, it was loud enough to pull Cy from his daze every other five minutes or so which was probably a good thing, considering that Fairview was the next stop. The train was less than a third full, quiet, and Cy was tired.

Cy had meant to take an earlier train out of Morrowvale, but then he’d been fool enough to answer his work phone and had spent half an hour talking to one of his clients about another stained-glass window and what it was supposed to look like, and could Cy get it done very soon, please. He’d told the client it would get done as soon as he could humanly manage it, and he’d absolutely come out to take a few measurements. Which he had done, and then the client had just talked and talked about what she wanted in her new window, and Cy had nodded and smiled as he downed no less than three espressos from her fancy machine.

And now it was late, the world outside the train car was ink black apart from the occasional glow in the distance that marked out a lone house or a road. The artificial light that lit the inside of the car was grating on the eyes. Cy looked out, though the windows were more like dull mirrors, showing him his reflection, washed-out and pale. He was beginning to feel another wave of tiredness come over him.

“Long day?”

At first, Cy wasn’t sure he’d been spoken to. He turned his face away from the window and immediately found the speaker’s gaze meeting his, bronze eyes inquisitive, face curious, and a smile playing at the corners of the man’s lips. He sat diagonally across from Cy, a book open on his lap. One long finger was teasing the pages.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said. His voice was smooth and reminded Cy of the warm hues of the reds he loved to use, never mind how expensive they were because it took gold to give the glass that special shade of red.

“No, it’s fine,” Cy said. “And it was a long day.”

The man’s smile stretched a bit at that, which drew Cy’s eyes to the lips, rosy pink with coral undertones. The man’s lips looked very soft.

“Hm, those are the worst,” he said. “Are you going back home?”

A part of Cy’s mind tried alerting him to the fact that a complete stranger was striking up a conversation with him on a near-empty night train. Even if that stranger was the kind of pretty that easily drew Cy’s attention, the man could still be a perfect weirdo. Heavens knew Cy had hooked up with some weirdos over the years. Except this guy was reading, and a glance to the book in his lap told Cy the man was reading Homer in the original Greek, which struck Cy as even odder than the pretty stranger’s interest in him.

“No,” Cy said. “I’m visiting my sister.” At least that way, if the stranger was the murderous kind of weirdo, he’d know Cy was expected, even if he wasn’t. This was a surprise visit, and Cy had the generalized, uncertain feeling in the pit of his stomach that he would end up just as surprised as his sister by the end of it. That was a whole different can of wiggly worms that he didn’t want to dwell on just now.

The stranger nodded and closed his book after running one of those long fingers down the center where the signatures were glued to the spine. He didn’t even use a bookmark. “That’s nice. Family is so precious,” the stranger said.

“Clearly you don’t have any siblings,” Cy commented. His voice sounded a bit drier than he liked. He told himself that was because he was tired.

The stranger tilted his head. He had perfect, tawny skin and ink-black hair which he kept long enough for a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had no accent that Cy could detect, spoke instead cleanly and clearly like someone who’d been moved around too much as a child or someone parked in some exclusive boarding school for most of their adolescent life. He didn’t look exactly Asian either. Even the coarse hair had a bit of a wave to it, and the eyes, while almond-shaped, lacked the monolid Cy would have associated with someone of Asian descent. The closer Cy looked, the odder the stranger seemed.

“You’re right, I don’t,” the man said. “But I imagine it would be nice. Do you not like your sister?” One of his eyebrows rose, and he turned his upper body toward Cy to show interest.

Cy rolled his shoulders. “Sure, I do.” Except I don’t trust she always makes the smartest decisions. “But younger sisters are just born knowing how to get on your nerves.” By being plain stupid or pretending to be. “You read Greek?” Cy asked, indicating the Odyssey with his chin.

The man looked at the book and back to Cy. “I do. I also speak it. Miláte epísis Elliniká?”

“Uhm, sorry? I know the letters, but that’s it,” Cy said. “Classics professor mom, you see.”

The stranger smiled. “I apologize for presuming,” he said. “I just asked if you spoke Greek, which you answered all the same.”

Cy cleared his throat. He could feel himself blush at the sight of that smile, sharp and soft as a line drawn onto a sheet of pale glass. And those pretty bronze eyes and that voice like red glass warmed by sunlight didn’t hurt either.


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Meet the Author

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or Instagram, follow her on Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter!

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