Tag Archives: Dark Fantasy

Nighted by Torri Heat #darkfantasy #paranormalromance @torriheat

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Jasper and Ava have made it through every hurdle thrown their way — together. Their relationship is stronger — and hotter — than ever. But now something new and deadly is after Ava. The pair also can’t forget the minor detail that her mother is still missing.

The supernatural world is dangerous, and full of things that go bump in the night. Will they be able to find the monster before the monster finds her?

Available Today at Changeling Press

Preorder for June 18th at online booksellers

Praise for Nighted (Darkling 3)

“I’ve been following Torri’s work from Nyctophilia and with every new piece I become more and more invested. I adore the progression Torri has created between each of her installments in her Darkling Series… I adore her characters even more. [The] romance with Jasper is just absolutely superb. Their dynamic connection and spice is everything.”

— 5 Stars from Jennifer Claire, Goodreads Review

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Torri Heat

If I thought back really far, I could almost remember my mother telling me a story. About creatures who lived in the woods, and monsters that went bump in the night. Bedtime stories created to scare children. Except I was no longer a child, and I knew better now than to think those stories were made up.

None of this mattered anymore. My mother and I had no relationship left, and this was definitely not the time for a casual discussion on children’s stories. I had bigger things to worry about. The forest I was currently sprinting through full tilt was far from imaginary, although the scene could’ve been from a dream. The dense foliage was thick with new growth, lush like a fairy tale. Bright flowers bloomed in the small gaps of sunlight. The only thing missing was the bird song, preferably from a friendly bluebird Instead, the only thing I heard as I ran was the sound of my own heartbeat.

I wanted to stop and catch my breath, but I couldn’t. He’d find me, and that was a whole world of trouble I didn’t even want to contemplate. So I kept running, my heartbeat keeping time with my silent footsteps.

There were perks to being a Venator, and then there were skills I had worked my ass off to learn. The quiet way I could move through the forest was one of those skills I was most proud of, and my talent was paying off tenfold at the moment. My original plan had been to do a wide circle in the woods, coming out at the far end, which hadn’t been working out for me so far. Venator or not, my stamina wasn’t unlimited. What I needed was a distraction, or some way to let me loop back on myself. I eyed the aging trees as I ran deeper. The thick vines desperately making their way skyward were too new to provide any real support, but they might give me some traction if I could find a tree small enough to find good holds. Just ahead of me I found my target. A tree younger than the rest with some low limbs, but not fully covered in the twining green ropes. Perfect.

I jumped, reaching for the first low limb and pulling myself into the tree. I continued to climb until I was high enough in the leaves that I was unable to be seen but could still hear everything going on below me. Unfortunately, this vantage point also left my vision partially obstructed. I would have to rely on a combination of my senses and hope for the best. I pulled myself as small as I could, straining my ears to hear the sounds beneath my hiding place. I needed to wait until he passed by me, and then I could make my way back out of the woods. Easy. I had outmaneuvered wolves loads of times. My breath and my heart kept an odd melody in my head, and I forced myself to slow down. I needed to listen.

I heard the heavy breathing first. I must have pulled up at the perfect time, because he wasn’t far behind me. I could hear sniffing down the trail I had followed. I pulled my feet even closer to my body, willing my heart to be silent. I had come this far. I could make it a little while longer. I kept count of the seconds, tapping my finger on my tight black shirt. One. Two. Three. There was the swish of a tail in the bushes beneath me. I could see the edges of the damp fur but couldn’t make out the whole body. Holding my breath, I waited to see if he would find my hiding spot or would move on. Four. Five. Six. The fur slowly disappeared, and the sniffing faded out further along the trail. I would give him a couple more minutes, just to make sure, and then I would jump down and move. Seven. Eight. Nine. My hiding spot had been a success. There was no more sign of him. Now I only needed to get back in one piece. I took a deep breath and jumped down.

Ten.

I took a quick look around me, feeling satisfied I hadn’t been found out. I turned on my heel to head back the way I had come, before he noticed I was no longer ahead of him. But before I could move, something snaked out from the left of me and grabbed my wrist. My heart stopped. Shit.

“What gave me away?” My voice sounded a lot braver than I felt. Bravery was a constant work in progress, especially when the supernatural world wasn’t one you were expecting to find yourself living in.

Jasper smirked. “Your scent was all over those vines, Green. You should know better than to climb on the greenery without masking your scent first.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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 Torri Online: Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

New Release: Dire Wolves (paperback) by Shelby Morgen and Lena Austin #paranormalromance #LGBTQ @shelbymorgen @Lena_Austin

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Whiteout by Shelby Morgen: Zan gives John a reason to want to live as a man again. But before he can make that kind of promise, he’s got unfinished business to take care of.

Silence by Lena Austin: Noel Miller, a vampire with a few scars of his own, wants to be more than Cam’s sign language interpreter. If only the werewolf will let him into his life — and heart.

White Heat by Shelby Morgen: Heather Grant’s got far too much experience working with stubborn males. She figures it would serve both Alphas right if their pride blows their cover. But someone’s got to salvage the mission.

Available in paperback at Amazon

Praise for Dire Wolves (Box Set)


“…a collection that grabs the reader, takes them on a journey, and ensures some cold showers. Erotic, captivating, and deliciously carnal are how I would describe The Dire Wolves Anthology. It is definitely worth reading, worth adding to one’s reading library, and well worth re-reading.”— 4 Stars from Nikki, Sensuous Reviews  

“This book hooked me from the get go. I just couldn’t put it down. I fell in love with these characters… just a perfect read.” — 5 Stars from Jeanne, Amazon Review

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021
Excerpt from Silence by Lena Austin

“Danse Macabre” was a lousy choice for a ring tone, but Detective Cameron Douglas always thought about it when he had the least amount of time to change the ring to something else. The tune was the last he’d ever hear. Cam didn’t know that sad fact, or he’d have changed the ring sooner.

Cam snatched the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open as soon as he saw it was his boss, Lt. Kraynak. “Hey, Mark! You caught me just leaving the mayor’s office.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s voice always sounded nervous, but at that moment, he sounded as squeaky as a girl. Cam always wondered if Mark was as closet gay as Cam himself. “How’d it go?”

Cam sighed. The investigation into the death of the mayor’s secretary, Margaret Lund, was supposed to be kept very quiet and low-key. “We got the blood from her apartment at the lab, looking for DNA. They seem to be consistent with the defensive marks found on her body despite floating around in the St. John’s River for a while. I’ve got a few good leads.” He had to be vague. Cam couldn’t exactly tell his boss he was a werewolf and he’d caught an odd, masculine scent in Margaret’s apartment. He knew any sort of masculine odor didn’t belong in that apartment because Margaret and his mother had been lovers for over twenty years. Not exactly what you want the whole world to know. Mom had been in the closet all her life, and he wasn’t about to out her when she was mourning “Aunt Maggie’s” death. Dad would turn over in his grave, the day care she’d run for fifteen years would close, and her life would be in ruins. What she and Maggie had enjoyed just wasn’t ever going to be public, and that wasn’t admissible evidence anyway.

He could see it now. Him, on the witness stand. “Yes, Your Honor. I’m a werewolf you see, and I sniffed this odor…” He winced, even to himself.

“I don’t like it, Cam. You shouldn’t be on this case. Ms. Lund was your mother’s best friend. You could be called prejudiced in court.” Mark popped another gumball in his mouth. Cam heard it rattle against his teeth before it crackled as he chewed it into oblivion. Mark’d been trying to quit smoking again, and kept a gumball bank on his desk.

“I don’t like it, either, Mark. Where His Honor got the idea I’d be the only detective who could do the job is beyond me.” Cam was in sight of his car at last. The covered parking garage across the street from City Hall was a piece of shit like all the rest of downtown. Half the security cameras didn’t work at the best of times, and the roof leaked whenever it rained. So where was he parked? On the roof. In the rain. Of course. So he was wet. It was Florida. Not like he would melt. He was a werewolf, not a witch, and this wasn’t Hollyweird.

The beep in his ear made him jump, and the caller ID told him it was Mom. “Hey, I’m at my car. Hang on a sec.” Cam flipped over to his mother’s call and sat down on a bench about fifty feet from his car, in the shelter covering the elevator. “Hi, Mom.” He frowned and noticed the hood of his car was slightly ajar. That was odd. He distinctly remembered changing the oil the previous Sunday and slamming the hood closed because he hated working in the hot sun.

He never heard her answer. Hell, he never heard anything except the biggest boom on the planet.

Waking up wasn’t like someone flipped on a light switch. It was more like a lazy Sunday morning when you didn’t have to be anywhere or do anything in particular, so you could roll over and laze in bed. That is, until your bladder or some other bodily need woke you up.

What woke him up was pain. Cam had the worst headache ever, even beyond hangovers and mild concussions from playing rugby. Cam felt like he’d been run over by a semi, too, with a backache from lying in one position too long on top of assorted injuries. Worst of all was the ringing in his ears. Tinnitus, he guessed. Not bad, since Cam had to assume he’d survived that explosion. Hell, he counted himself lucky when he opened his eyes and saw his left leg in bandages, not a cast. If a headache, a bum leg, and a case of tinnitus were all he had to suffer through, Cam was happy.

A nurse peeked in. She saw Cam was awake and smiled at him. Her lips moved, but he couldn’t hear her over the ringing in his ears. She frowned when Cam told her she’d have to speak up, and would she bring him something for the headache and tinnitus? She turned around and walked out without another word. She was back with something she shot into his IV. Whatever it was put him out like a light. Pain, tinnitus, and consciousness all went away at once.

When next Cam could put two words together in a coherent sentence, the clock on the wall and the darkness out the window gave him a clue it was 7:30 PM, not AM. He’d slept away the whole day. Great. Now his ears were sore.

A young man in a lab coat read a book in the corner chair, even though the only light source was the fluorescent above the head of Cam’s bed. The guy’s eyesight must have been superlative. He looked up slowly, and Cam was completely arrested — pardon the pun — by his eyes. They were big, blue and so world-weary Cam wanted to — maybe buy the kid a cup of coffee and give him a sympathetic ear. Then the newcomer smiled, and the world was all sunshine and cheer. The young man tapped on the keyboard of his laptop without taking his gaze off Cam’s face.

Cam moved restlessly under that intense blue gaze that did not in the least match with the smile. Cam opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when the screen on a laptop left on his lap table brightened. He frowned and studied the screen. “Can you read this?” Surprised, Cam nodded without thinking.

The blue-eyed man smiled and nodded. “Good. How’s your tinnitus?” lit up on the screen in a standard IM chat feature of a common website.

“Um… should I answer aloud?” Cam felt suddenly adrift in a strange sea, unsure of himself for the first time since college. Still, he did an internal check, and the buzzing still filled his ears like a thousand crickets on speed. “Yep, still have the crickets.” The realization hit him. “The explosion caused this tinnitus, didn’t it?”

“Yes, Mr. Douglas. Please speak more softly.” The IM kept up easily, and the young man’s hands flew silently but rapidly over the tiny keyboard. Damn, this guy was good.

Oops. Cam wasn’t stupid. He knew that those with hearing issues often spoke too loudly, trying to over-compensate for their loss. He modified his volume. “Um. Sorry.” He clung to the thin thread of hope that the tinnitus was causing his hearing loss, but he knew a bunch of cops who’d neglected ear protection at the shooting range once too often. Tinnitus could be permanent, or worse, the symptom of something much, much worse.

The IM lit up with several lines in rapid succession. “My name is Noel Miller, and I am your ENT therapist.” Now the cheer was gone, and the face serious.

Cam’s heart hammered, and he swallowed to help his suddenly dry mouth. Fear, ice-cold and cruel, raced up his spine. Part of him was grateful he still had painkillers in his system. Deep inside himself, a little kid threw a major temper tantrum, even if he held himself rigidly under control. “I’m deaf, aren’t I?”

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Shelby Morgen

Shelby Morgen loves writing offbeat tales that defy as many rules as possible.

She likes chocolate with her peanut butter, suspense with her romance, and kink with her sex, and she’s always had a hard time keeping science fiction, fantasy and paranormal from mixing with her kink.

Shelby shares her belief in electronic publishing with her longtime friend and partner, Bill, her husband of nearly four decades.

Lena Austin

Someone cursed Lena Austin with “may you have a life so full you’ll have many tales to tell your grandchildren.” Lena’s a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She’s been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba — she’s got a lifetime of “Research material!”

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won’t listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something?

New Release: Spirits of Abaddon by Mychael Black #LGBTQ #darkfantasy

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Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Gay Romance

There’s no denying the attraction between Jesse and Gabriel, but Jesse doesn’t like vampires, and he purposely avoids Gabriel whenever he can. When Jesse witnesses a murder, he finds himself on the run, and his only choice is to turn to the one man he’s been trying to ignore.

Jesse and Gabriel have their work cut out for them the moment they step foot into Gabriel’s home world of Abaddon. With the elemental ice mage Lazarus they uncover the unthinkable: a plot to overthrow the throne of Abaddon itself.

Gabriel has a secret weapon in the coming war: Jesse. As a vampire/elemental crossbreed, Jesse possesses powers surpassing those of both his lovers. There’s little time for him to come into his full abilities, however, and it’s going to take a miracle if he and his lovers are to survive.

Publisher’s Note: Spirits of Abaddon contains the previously published novellas Bad Blood, Sanctified, Darkness in Paradise, Twilight of the Gods.

Available today at Changeling Press

Preorder for May 21st at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Mychael Black
Excerpt from Bad Blood

Energy hummed through Jesse, and he left the techs to break down his kit. The crowd normally gathered in front of the stage had dispersed, some to the bar, others scattered around the small but popular club. He grinned and caught a bottle of water when the bartender tossed it to him.

“Good show.”

Jesse closed his eyes and barely suppressed a shiver. He clutched the cold bottle, hoping it would put out the heat surging through his body. He knew that voice. He heard it every night in his head, every time he wrapped his fingers around his own cock.

“Thanks.” He forced himself to turn around and meet an enigmatic grey gaze.

Gabriel Walsh embodied everything Jesse had ever wanted: gorgeous looks, expressive eyes, a body built for sin, and all in all, a decent personality. Only one problem… Gabriel also had fangs. And drank blood. Human blood.

That fact alone scared the hell out of Jesse more than he cared to admit.

Yet he couldn’t resist panting Gabriel’s name every night, even if no one else heard it.

Jesse struggled for something to say, but his voice refused to work beyond one-syllable words. Gabriel smiled, the effect disarming until his fangs came into view. Unlike Julian, Gabriel didn’t hide them. Jesse wondered if there were more differences between them — namely feeding. Julian didn’t kill, but Jesse had a gut feeling Gabriel did, and would gladly do so again.

“Jess!”

Grateful for something to break the tension, Jesse turned away from Gabriel and waved at Jason. “I’ll catch you guys later!” Then he returned his attention to Gabriel. “Um, I need to go.”

Gabriel nodded and motioned toward the door. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“Yeah.”

Jesse hurried out of the bar and only stopped walking fast when he neared his car. He got in and shut the door, but instead of turning the key, he rested his forehead to the steering wheel, eyes closed, and concentrated on breathing. Why, out of all the guys in Atlanta, did he have to fall for the one who scared the ever-loving shit out of him?

A knock on the driver’s side window startled him, and he jerked his head up to see Gabriel crouching beside the car. Jesse rolled down the window, hoping the door itself would be enough of a barrier between them.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just… tired, I guess. Long show.”

“Why do you fear us?”

“I don’t.” Jesse shrugged. “I don’t like vampires; that’s all. At least Julian doesn’t freak me out anymore.”

“And me?”

Jesse refused to meet Gabriel’s gaze. “You aren’t like him.”

“Oh?”

A single touch, a finger beneath his chin, drew Jesse’s face back around. This man embodied sex appeal so strong it chipped away at Jesse’s defenses little by little. Gabriel Walsh also was, without a doubt, dangerous.

“I would never hurt you.”

Jesse wanted to believe it. He wanted it almost as much as Gabriel himself. Gabriel traced Jesse’s jaw with his fingertip and it took every ounce of willpower on Jesse’s part to not chase that finger with his mouth. He stared at lips he’d fantasized about, only to realize he hadn’t heard a word Gabriel said.

He blinked and looked up. “Um, sorry. I wasn’t…” Gabriel smiled slowly. “I didn’t…” He watched, entranced by the lips nearing his own. “I…”

Stop. Stop, stop, stop…

The first touch stole his breath and the protests died on his tongue. In a momentary lapse of reason, Jesse gave in. Gabriel took control, tongue sweeping through Jesse’s mouth, hands on either side of his head. Before Jesse could even think about how far he really wanted this to go, however, Gabriel drew back.

“I know you don’t trust me, but I’m here should you ever need me.”

Jesse watched Gabriel walk away and a part of him screamed for more than a kiss. Much more.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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!

Wake Me by Angela Knight #darkfantasy #bdsm @AngelaKnight

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Wedding Photographer Chloe Hart has just been dumped when she receives a mysterious gift — a painting of a handsome knight in a heavy gold frame worked with what appear to be magical sigils. She promptly hangs the painting up in place of her cheating ex-boyfriend’s portrait.

That night, she has the most delicious dream of Lord Radolf of Varik, the medieval conqueror who has just seized her castle. He seduces her in a red-hot encounter that makes her forget all about ol’ what’s his name. The next night, Radolf is back, this time as the captain of a pirate ship. Night after night, Radolf and Chloe act out some deliciously erotic scene from her favorite guilty-pleasure romance novels. And every single dream seems utterly real, down to the last scent and taste.

What Chloe doesn’t realize is that what’s all fun and games for her is desperately serious for Radolf. He’s been a prisoner for eight hundred years in the castle of a witch, and he can’t escape until he can find a woman who cares enough to free him. Is Chloe that woman?

Even as the two begin to fall in love, a new and horrible fear grips Radolf: what will the witch do to Chloe?

Get it today at Changeling Press

Preorder for May 14th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight

Chloe Hart eyed the newspaper with all the enthusiasm of a woman surveying a dentist’s chair before a root canal. “Don’t be a wuss, Chlo’,” she muttered to herself, and picked up the paper.

Gripping it like a club, she marched back into the house to the kitchen table, where a bracing cup of coffee and a Danish waited to fortify her for the coming ordeal. She tossed the paper on the table, plopped down in her chair, and picked up the mug. An incautious sip scalded the tip of her tongue.

At Chloe’s lisped obscenity, Rhett Butler looked up from his Tender Vittles with an inquiring “Meow?”

“Ignore me, Rhett,” she managed around her boiled tongue tip as she unfolded the newspaper with a series of grim snaps. “Just having a bad morning.”

Happy to comply, the muscular black tom settled back down over his bowl. Like his namesake, he frankly didn’t give a damn. But as she’d told her dog-loving buddy, Amanda Rice, there was something to be said for blunt feline honesty.

Chloe paged past a murder, a house fire, and a really spectacular pileup on I-26 to reach the account of her personal Waterloo. She found it on page four in section C.

The bride smiled her familiar grin from a dozen yards of tulle and seed pearls, clutching a bouquet of white roses that cascaded to her silk-covered knees. Chloe could almost hear her mother sniff that a woman with three kids had no business in that much white. From a professional standpoint, she herself thought the composition was a little off; the tilt of the bride’s veiled head and the position of her flowers didn’t quite lead the eye in the proper flow.

“That’s what you get for using a cheap photographer, you backstabbing bitch,” she muttered at the photo. “Then again, if I’d shot you, I wouldn’t have used a camera.”

Without bothering to read the description of the wedding — she wasn’t that big a masochist, thank you — she closed the newspaper and looked at Rhett. “As God is my witness,” she drawled in her best mock-Scarlett O’Hara growl, “I’ll never be a sucker again.”

Knuckles rattled the storm door. Chloe looked up in surprise. Amanda wouldn’t bother to knock, and she wasn’t expecting anybody else. “If that’s Debbie and Chris, stopping by to beg for forgiveness on the way to the honeymoon,” she told the cat as she got up to answer it, “You have my permission to attack.”

Rhett yawned and twisted around to lick his furry backside.

She looked back at him. “Or you can do that. Does express the general sentiment pretty well.”

Chloe opened the door to find a man in a familiar brown uniform, a huge box tucked awkwardly under one arm. “Delivery,” he said, and juggled his electronic clipboard into her hands.

She took it and signed her name in the window, eying the package. “Wonder who that’s from?”

He shrugged, supremely indifferent. “Looks like a picture to me.”

It did have the right dimensions — four feet across and more than a yard wide, but only three or four inches thick. Curiosity piqued, Chloe accepted the heavy parcel and hauled it inside as the delivery truck roared off. She tossed it down on the kitchen table and went in search of a pair of scissors to attack the packing tape. “If it’s a portrait of the bride and groom,” she told Rhett as she dug through the kitchen drawer, “your litter box is gonna get filled with little bits of photo paper.”

Ripping off a strip of the heavy brown cardboard, Chloe lifted her brows at the intriguing sight of bare, tanned chest and a tight male nipple. “I take it back, Rhett,” she murmured. “Somehow I don’t think this is going in the litter box.”

Ten minutes later, the box lay ruthlessly demolished on the floor, and the oil painting it had contained stood propped on the kitchen table.

Chloe stared reverently.

The knight sprawled in sleep across a tumble of rich sable fur, one hand resting on the jeweled hilt of a sword. It looked as if he’d stripped and fallen asleep after a battle.

He was a big, blond Viking of a man, his hair cropped short, a neat beard framing his lush sinner’s mouth. His starkly handsome face looked as though it had been carved by God’s own chisel, but if so, He’d been in a hurry. There was something a bit crude and brutal in the angles of the knight’s cheekbones and big, square chin. Luckily, those features were balanced out by a regal Roman nose and thick blond brows. The whole effect was intensely masculine — and just a little intimidating.

So was the rest of him. He had the build of a man who’d spent his entire life swinging a blade in an era when losing could cost you your life. He’d cut it close a time or two; his brawny body was slashed here and there with scars that reminded Chloe of a tiger’s stripes.

“Really big hands, too,” she purred under her breath, eying his long fingers and broad palms. Unfortunately, one of the pelts lay across his hips in a pool of sable, preventing her from determining if the interesting bits lived up to those hands.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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

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

The Alpha’s Archer by Alexa Piper #paranormalromance @prowlingpiper

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Lindsey likes being a police detective, and she also likes being a werewolf alpha and a good leader to her pack. What Lindsey doesn’t like is the trickster who has decided to court her in the middle of a series of uncanny murders.

Eris likes his bow, well-fletched arrows, and the werewolf alpha who claws at his heart with her werewolf claws, metaphorically speaking. Yet, law enforcement seems to have an issue with a trickster deploying arrows, and Lindsey is ever the diligent detective.

While bodies grace the streets of Fairview, Eris has decided to win his werewolf’s heart. All he needs to figure out is how to make the stubborn alpha into his lover.

Lindsey decides to team up with St. John Investigations, the best in the business of supernatural oddities in all of Fairview, to get to the bottom of her paranormal murder mystery, but she will have to deal with the trickster all by herself.

Will Lindsey overcome her fear of commitment, and will Eris overcome his urge to shoot people? Can the St. John Investigations B-team help solve the series of crimes, and why is there a bear? Find out in this mysterious murder comedy. Warning: Contains sentient and very horny office furniture.

Get it today at Changeling Press

Preorder for May 14th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

Like any hunter, Eris enjoyed perching. He was doing it — perching on a fire escape — and watching the alpha bitch below who’d snatched his heart in her werewolf claws. Eris held his bow loosely in his hand as Lindsey, all serious Fairview Police detective with her tight ponytail, took in the corpse. It was a nice, distracting corpse, which made it even easier for Eris to remain unseen.

“The fuckery,” Lindsey was saying. It was quite some fuckery indeed. Not that the sight of a torn ribcage particularly troubled Eris, nor the sight of a Dumpster and a good chunk of the sidewalk decorated with guts. But he could agree with Lindsey’s judgment. It is probably wise to get used to agreeing with her. She will expect it, once I woo her, Eris thought. Of course, Eris had dated a hellhound before, like most archers, but a werewolf alpha was a different kind of fletching altogether. I think I might be looking forward to agreeing with her, Eris thought.

A pigeon landed next to Eris, interrupting the newly found agreeable state of the archer’s mind. The pigeon’s pink claws curled around the iron banister, and he looked at the archer with hungry bird eyes and made a pigeon noise while the alpha bitch discussed the bloody fuckery with the medical examiner who was poking and prodding the corpse.

“I don’t have any food,” Eris told the pigeon.

The pigeon stared with his beady eyes and cooed.

“Seriously. I don’t. Go away. I’m perching here.” Eris shifted a bit and adjusted his grip on his bow.

The pigeon did not move. Eris’s bow hand was beginning to feel the tingling need for an arrow, no matter how scrawny the pigeon’s feathery ass was.

“Go. Away.” He was being nice, wasn’t he? Surely even a Fairview pigeon could appreciate that.

The pigeon was being stubborn, however. Down below, Lindsey was cursing some more before she told the medical examiner to let her know the moment the autopsy was done. Then, the alpha bitch pulled out her phone.

“You know, I don’t hate pigeons, but your kind really shouldn’t be all this territorial,” Eris said.

The pigeon cooed.

“Fucks and feathers,” the archer said. Below, Lindsey ended the call and walked away from the fuckery. “Looks like I’m getting coffee. So long, pigeon.”

Eris, rather than descending, went up. Archers like him had an easy way when it came to high ground, and their kind rarely fell, if ever. And Eris felt pretty sure he knew where Lindsey was headed.

The pigeon stared after him. Then, his territory successfully defended, he cooed once more.

ABOUT 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!

BOOK REVIEW: Hell in a Handbasket by Mila Young and Harper A. Brooks #reverseharem #fantasy

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See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. Sleep with no evil… If only it were that easy.

Between being kidnapped by a psycho dragon-shifter, influenced by ancient relics, and fighting for my freedom, I’d say my hands are full. But really, my troubles have just begun.

Cain, Dorian, and Elias are wickedly dangerous, scorching hot, and all too tempting. They’re devils in disguise. Literally.

I don’t know why they’re collecting these relics, but it looks like I’m not the only one with secrets. Despite all the risks, I might be falling for the three of them. But there’s a good chance this Hellish relationship ends up being the death of me.

To make matters worse, there may be something more to my shadow than I originally thought. Something evil that’s set on taking over me entirely if I let it. With each passing day, I find myself falling deeper into its darkness and further under the demons’ deadly charms.

There’s no other way around it… Things are quickly going to Hell in a handbasket. 

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MY REVIEW – 4 stars!

Book two in this series starts off with a bang … there’s tons of action, super hot scenes, and the mystery surrounding Aria doubles.

Elias, Cain, and Dorian have never met anyone like Aria. They don’t understand the shadow living inside her any more than she does. In the mix of trying to figure where she came from or what she is, they’re also still on the hunt for the relics they need in order to return to Hell.

Dragons, kidnappings, and lots of hot sex make this a book I couldn’t put down. By the end, I’m still left wondering exactly who or what Aria is, and whether or not her demons will realize she’s more important than them returning to Hell. They’ve been around for centuries but still haven’t realized love is more important than anything else…. stubborn men!

While the book does end with a cliffhanger, and you definitely need to read book 1 before diving into this one, I found that I had to know what happened next. I flipped through the pages, gobbling up every scene, and now I’m eager to read the next installment. Hopefully, all my questions will be answered and Aria will get her happily ever after with her demon trio!

*Disclaimer: The authors did not request a review of this title. I purchased/borrowed it from Amazon. The review above is only mu opinion.

BOOK REVIEW: Playing with Hellfire by Mila Young and Harper A. Brooks #reverseharem #fantasy

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The devils aren’t in the details.
They’re in my bed…

When my warlock foster father trades me to demons for his outstanding debts, I find myself in Hell on Earth. I’m thrust into a supernatural underground crime ring I can’t get out of, eternally bound in a contract I never made.

Three hot-as-hell demons stand in between me and my freedom.

A tattooed, brutish Hellhound shifter. An incubus with the power to bend wills on command. And the heir to Lucifer’s throne—the original sin demon, Pride, himself. I have to find a way out of the deal before they devour me, body and soul.

But I’m no angel. There’s something inside me, something that craves the chaotic darkness these demons possess.

Escaping may mean giving in to Hell’s more sinful temptations. But playing with fire only hurts if you get burned…

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MY REVIEW – 4 stars!

A fantasy reverse-harem romance that will pull you in and not let go…

I stumbled across this little gem as part of the suggested reads on my Kindle, and I’m glad I decided to check it out. If you like darker reverse harem romances, this one has it all… demons, magic, slavery, and more…

Aria is a strong heroine, who won’t stop until she gets what she wants. In this case, she wants to escape a deal with three demons. She didn’t agree to be sold to Cain, Elias, and Dorian, and she refuses to stay with monsters. One failed escape attempt after another ends up in heated encounters with each demon.

Cain, a Prince of Hell, doesn’t want Aria in his home. And yet, he can’t seem to let her go. Elias, the hellhound, finds himself drawn back to the house more and more now that Aria is in residence, and the incubus, Dorian, is mystified that she can ignore his sexual lures.

With a mystery of who – and what – is Aria, three demons determined to do whatever it takes to return to hell, and a woman who refuses to be a pawn in their games, the pages are filled with action, emotion, and sexual tension.

Be warned, it does end with a cliffhanger… so naturally I’m off to read book 2! I have to know what happens next.

*Disclaimer: The author did not request a review of this title. I purchased/borrowed through Amazon. The review above is only my opinion.

Blood & Fire/Blood Curse (Duet) by Mychael Black #LGBTQ #RockstarRomance

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Blood & Fire: Jason Summerfield is the lead singer for local metal band Firestarter. Jason’s an all-around love ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy. He’s also pyrokinetic. Strong emotions can literally start a fire with him, so he’s always struggled to hold himself in check. Then along comes Julian Kristados, a man who turns Jason’s world upside down. With Julian, Jason finds it impossible to control his fire. But when Jason discovers why Julian remains unscathed, he doesn’t know whether to run… or let the man into his heart.

Blood Curse: Jason has finally found the man of his dreams — Greek vampire Julian. Along with the fame, though, Jason has also garnered the attention of a stalker. When the stalker’s attentions turn deadly, will they be able to save Jason from forced repayment of an ancestor’s debt?

Get it today at Changeling Press

Preorder for April 30th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Mychael Black
Excerpt from Blood & Fire

“Jason?”

The lightest touch and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned my head and looked up at the man standing beside me, an expression of genuine concern on his youthful face. I gave him a weak smile; it was all I could do.

“Dude, you okay?”

I wiped my hands down my face and sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

“The other band is finishing. You sure you’re up for this?”

I glanced at him from between the fingers spread across my face. “Not like I have much choice.” He shrugged and smiled sympathetically. “How much longer?”

“They’re on their last song now. Then we’ll have a fifteen minute break before we have to go on. You look like shit. Want a drink or something?”

I stood and stretched. “Sure. What’s out there?”

He grinned. “Whatever you want. Terri said drinks are on her tonight.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Pritchard isn’t here, is he?”

“How’d ya guess?”

“All right, gimme a minute and I’ll be out there,” I said. As he turned and started out the door, I called to him. “Oh, and Mike, tell Terri I want vodka.”

Mike grinned and left.

I turned back to the emptiness of the meager dressing room, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and grimaced. “Fuck. Make that a gallon of vodka.”

Mike was right; I looked horrible. I didn’t sound much better either. I grabbed my hairbrush and worked out the tangles I had managed to incur during our last set. I loved being the main act, but damn, I just wanted to go home tonight.

Go home to what, Jase? An empty bed? To stare up at the ceiling again?

I threw the hairbrush at the mirror. It bounced onto the countertop before landing on the hard tile floor. I didn’t want to think about it anymore, not tonight. But I had to. It had become the only thing left in my life that got me so fucking pissed that I could perform like my fans expected. I looked in the mirror again and felt the heat begin to build up. I still had to control it, even when I didn’t want to. Mike stuck his head back in the door. From the grin on his face, I figured I finally looked the part.

“Ready?”

I nodded. “Let’s do this. Last set of the night.”

I followed him out into the hallway. Jesse twirled a drumstick while Vic hummed one of his solos with his eyes closed. Marcus stood a little further down the hall, seemingly content to corner one of the prettier groupies, one hand flat against the wall by her head and the other stroking her cheek. As the rest of us walked by, Jesse whacked him on the head with his drumstick.

“God damn it,” Marcus grumbled. “I’m fucking coming already.” He turned back to the woman and gave her a quick kiss before falling in beside me.

The lights in the club had been turned down and the fog machine was cranked up. It was so smoky I could barely see the crowd at all. By the time we were all in place, it had dissipated as if on cue. With the first chord from Vic’s guitar the crowd went wild. I stepped out of the smoke and up to the edge of the stage. It was one of our newer songs, yet there were people in the crowd singing my lyrics back to me. Fuck, that was such a rush.

I never brought out the “big guns,” as Mike called it, until our fourth song. “Thy Savior” was a crowd favorite and our fans knew every single word. As I sang and growled and gripped the mic with my left hand, I lifted my right, palm up. With the music pounding in my eardrums, going soul-deep, it didn’t take much.

Blue flames flared across my skin, sparking six inches above my palm. The crowd roared, fists pumping into the air. I blew on the flame during the solo and it flickered outward. With a snap of my fingers, it snuffed out and everyone cheered and whistled over the finale.

Times like that, I enjoyed my weird ability.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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!

Luminous Dreams by Alexa Piper #paranormalromance @prowlingpiper

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When desire and lust combine in the dark imagination of the sleeping mind, the results burn hot as phoenix fire and take us on a journey to meet two lovers who are anything but human. We may find ourselves deep in the woods where dryads have been waiting to offer seduction under the cover of leaves, or we may find a candy trail we simply have to follow.

These are nine stories of magic and magical things, of shapeshifters and fortune-tellers, of witches and their charms. Two women fall for one another even as two handsome vampires decide to share the woman they both claim, and a muse strikes inspiration in a dancer. Myth and dream meet love and lust in this collection of nine sensual stories which explore different worlds, different characters, and different constellation of lovers. Each story is a journey worth taking.

Get it Today at Changeling Press

Preorder at online booksellers for April 23rd

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

You want to know the details. You want to know how Sebastian came to be my gentleman.

Well, it is simple, really.

“So tell me, Bas (that’s what I was calling him by then), what makes you leave lollipop trails out there in the woods? “

He shrugged. “I guess… I dunno. I wanted to see who picked them up, who would go for the sweet stuff.”

“What if I had licked one of them?” I asked, and he blushed, just a little bit.

“You… would have come here, very eager… eager to lick something else.”

“So you put an aphrodisiac in the candy?” I asked him.

“Well, no,” he said. “I just enchanted them to encourage desire.”

Now, by then we were sitting on his loveseat by the fire. He had made tea, but I had stubbornly stirred mine without drinking any of it. After all, I still remember the taste of that poisoned apple our lovely, lovely sorceress queen offered me and I foolishly took. Aw, but she was unique, wasn’t she, our mirror-loving queen? How much you too could have enjoyed her if you had a taste for women at all. Wouldn’t you agree, Brother?

So when I tell you the impression I had of Bas by then, know that it was untainted by anything magical. He had lovely hair, golden I told you, but it was the really curly and sparkly soft kind that you want to run your fingers through, and my fingers, Brother, were itching to take a handful of that hair and pull, gently. Then there were his shoulders, quite a bit broader than you would expect to see in an enchanter. I mentioned his chest already, but being exposed to the sight for all our conversation, I wanted nothing more than to touch it, taste it with my tongue. His waist was narrow while his thighs and ass were wonderfully formed and muscular. A runner’s body really. (Yes, all right, he reminded me a little bit of our gingerbread man.)

So he sits there and tells me that he was basically trying to get laid, and being out there in the woods, he used some enchantment to attract potential bedmates because what else are you supposed to do, out there in the woods?

To his credit, he was being frank about it, and let us not pretend, Brother, that he is anywhere near as creepy or devious as half the things prowling that forest! Actually, in comparison, he did seem like one of the more gentlemanly kind.

“So you want to be licked?” I asked him unflinchingly. I crossed my legs slowly and made sure to pull my skirt up so he could see enough leg to make his mouth water.

“I would like that,” he said, rubbing those long-fingered hands of his. “But of course, I wouldn’t mind reciprocating either.”

We might have talked a bit more then, but it ended as you must have been expecting all along. I put my hand on his thigh, gently stroking, then stroking his hard length through his pants. I looked deep into his brown eyes and saw how his pupils went wide when my hand worked on him…

ABOUT 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!

The Ruins by Torri Heat #darkfantasy @torriheat

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Joelle’s a mess. Nightmares about the end of the world keep her up at night, and lack of sleep has her losing job after job.

The only consistency to these dreams is the man she calls “The Watcher.” After another night of frustration, The Watcher arrives at her door, in the flesh. Luc, a demon Mare, is the source of all her problems.

Could he also be her salvation?

Available today at Changeling Press

Preorder at online booksellers for April 23rd

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Torri Heat

Joelle

I woke up from the dream that’s been plaguing me for months. The one where the world was burning. I watched the town I had grown up in crumble to dust around me, and the taste of death was thick in my mouth. People turned to ash as I reached out to save them and blew into the wind as if their bodies had never existed. As hard as I tried, I could never save them. Nothing I did made a difference. I would look for water, but a small bucketful seemed pitiful against the raging flames. I would offer myself up to some unseen god, hoping my sacrifice might save another. But as in most dreams, I was powerless.

Sometimes I doubted if these visions were dreams at all. When I woke up in the dead of night, damp with sweat and out of breath, I swore I could see the golden tones of a blaze outside my window. I would have put money on the fact I could feel the heat licking my face, gentle as a lover’s touch. The world I was seeing in front of me felt so real — so condemning. Less like a dream, and more like a warning.

But no matter what I did, as hard as I tried, the end was always the same. The small town burned to nothing, and the people disappeared. The same disaster, night after night. The only other constant was the man in my dreams. The one who stood on the other side of the flames, always staring at me. Watching carefully. But his perfect lips never uttered a word of advice, and he never moved his rugged hands to offer help. He seemed to exist outside of whatever was happening in my dreams, this figment of my imagination. He never burned, and I never got close enough to see if he would turn to ash with my touch. He just watched.

That’s what I called him when I described him to my therapist — the watcher. Overseeing me, my dreams, my nightmares, my failures. Handsome, but the kind of beautiful that could cut you like a knife. Like an artist forgot to soften the edges. Messy blond hair ruffled in the winds of the world burning around us. His dark, foreboding eyes felt like they were staring into my soul and evaluating every decision I made. The watcher was tall, and a formidable sight amongst the destruction. But I couldn’t figure out if he was watching me try to save the world, or watching me as I destroyed it.

He was the only person in my dreams I didn’t know, which made him stand out. I convinced myself it wasn’t his haunting beauty drawing me back time and time again. And like every other night, the watcher had been there. Watching as I tried to save a childhood friend, and the plump owner of the bakery down the road from my small apartment. What woke me up wasn’t the warmth of the flames that lingered in my memory. It was the slight downturn of his full lips as I screamed in frustration when everyone crumbled in my hands yet again. He never had any expression on his face before. But tonight was different. Tonight, the watcher had frowned.

I sighed heavily and rolled over in my bed to switch on my bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a gentle light. I scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to remember if anything else had been different. If there was anything else I needed to write down for Dr. Tanya.

“Once you start to notice the differences in each dream, you’ll be able to take the control back,” she had told me at my last appointment. I wasn’t sure. Control was currently a limited commodity in my life. I swung my legs out of bed, watching the blinking clock on my table flash a time way too early to be awake. I flipped on lights as I made my way into the kitchen, pouring an ice-cold glass of water and forcing myself to drink the whole thing before I let the thoughts overwhelm me. The anxieties. The need to do more. I slammed the glass down next to a stack of bills, all angrily stamped with “Final Warning” in a shade of red that hurt my eyes.

This was what my life had come to. I had wanted more. Wanted adventure, to feel alive.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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.