Night Critters by Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards #boxset #PNR #futuristic #RomCom #UrbanFantasy @changelingpress @Lena_Austin

Night Critters

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Sahara Kelly

 

Must Love Dogs: By the mid 21st century, the human population has been decimated, but some still scream over racial purity — and not just among humans. Not only is Roni not a pure werewolf, she’s a crossbreed Chuskie — offspring of a Siberian Husky and a Chihuahua. Corbin is Alpha and heir to Thornburn pack, the richest pack in three states. Who cares if he dates a were-dog? Their parents…

Faux Paws: Lucky Thornburn, a Faux Paws, a shifter-born who can’t shift, meets a fiery Goth half-angel named Charm who’s trouble on the wing. She wants to renovate her mother’s old house into a home for foster children, but Lucky’s cold-hearted brother JR wants the property for a shopping mall. Charm’s not going to give up, and Lucky’s coming right along with her…

Paws to Heal: Two were-dogs welcome the return of their former lover after being enemy packs for so long. Duke, Katriena, and Eduardo must pause to heal the breach and bring the were-canines and lupines together.

Bad Fur Day: Staci Thornburn is determined to get an interview with the new Chinese UNESCO Ambassador, but Jiao Long, a Foo Dog-Dragon cross, is more than a little irritated. It’s a good thing dragons are fireproof, because things are about to get hot!

Santa Paws: JR Thornton seeks redemption by dressing up in a Santa suit to deliver gifts to an orphanage, but the angry wood fairy guarding the house is more interested in blowing his head off. Phaedra’s determined to give JR a piece of her mind. So why does she want so badly to sit in Santa’s lap?

Publisher’s Note: Night Critters (Box Set) contains the previously released novellas Must Love Dogs, Faux Paws, Paws to Heal, Bad Fur Day, and Santa Paws.

 

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Praise for Must Love Dogs “Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards have created a humorous canine version of Romeo & Juliet… The chemistry was perfectly blended; the characters were strong and overall helped create a marvelously written book.”

5 Angels! — NeNe, Fallen Angels Reviews
Praise for Faux Paws “Lena Austin and Tuesday Richards have produced another hilarious tale pairing unique critters together in a very enjoyable saga.”

4.5 Nymphs! — Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs
Praise for Paws to Heal “Paws to Heal is a glimpse into the history of the characters featured in the first book in the Night Critters series. In this installment, the fabulous Lena Austin delivers an erotic love scene hot enough to give you a Heat Stroke.”

5 Nymphs! — Chocolate Minx, Literary Nymphs
Praise for Bad Fur Day “The sex is good but the story was even better. You can always count on Austin and Richards for some “get me some iced tea, I’m on fire” sensuality.”

4 Tombstones! — Kate, Bitten by Books
Praise for Santa Paws “Lena Austin brings to life these two characters in her short story Santa Paws. Bringing Christmas to the readers and showing them that just about every evil deed can be turned to good, given the right incentive. Many readers will enjoy this short story that shows just what Christmas can be all about, at least to the magical creatures of the world.”

— Stacy Link, PNR Reviews

Schoolboy Blues by Kiernan Kelly #ContemporaryRomance #NewRelease #GayRomance #LGBTbooks #RockStar @changelingpress @KiernanKelly

School Boy Blues (Set In Stone Multi-Author 6)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox

 

Once best friends, Angelo and Vincent parted after a night of hot passion and conflicting emotions.

Rock star Angelo knows a good thing when he’s got it, and what he has on stage with his band now is as good as it gets. He clings to that knowledge during the times when he longs for the warmth of a lover in his heart and his bed.

Vincent has grown adept at ducking his mother’s probing questions about grandbabies, while dedicating his life to nailing perps to the jailhouse wall in criminal court. His family and his career bring him satisfaction, but he dares not pursue a relationship that would complete his life.

Could the music that led to their parting a decade ago be the bond that brings these two lovers back together again?

 

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Praise for School Boy Blues (Set in Stone)

“If you like rock stars and tough prosecutors who share a weak spot for each other, if you enjoy the “magic” of the 1970s, and if you’re looking for a read that is as short as it is hot, occasionally funny, and just a little suspenseful toward the end, then you will probably like this novella.”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kiernan Kelly

Rush groaned, and banged his phone against his forehead a few times in frustration. It would leave a mark, but he didn’t care. Stage makeup was very forgiving. “Fine. We’ll do it, but no interviews. Nobody backstage. No VIPs, no reporters, no fans, nada. I mean it, Bernie. If I hear one fucking question or see one camera, I’ll walk. Understand?”

Bernie’s voice dropped an octave. “Sure, sure. Excellent. I knew you’d see reason. Okay. You fly out on the third, and I’ve booked the band the top floor at the Marriott. The rest of the company will be staying at a Quality Inn. I’ve rented a bus for them, and a limo for you guys. Two shows, Friday and Saturday nights. Any special requests for the hotel rooms or the green room at the Palace?”

“Not from me. Ask the boys what they want.” Rush was done, and just wanted to hang up and go strum his guitar for a while. That always calmed him down, let him think. If he was lucky, the music would flush the sliminess of Bernie’s voice from his ears.

“You got it. It’s going to be an awesome weekend. Ciao.”

Rush hung up without saying good bye. Ciao. As far as Rush knew, Bernie couldn’t even spell ciao. In Bernie’s little pointy head, it was probably spelled “chow.” Bernie didn’t like Italian food, and the closest he’d ever gotten to Italy was when the band dragged his ass to the San Gennaro Feast in Little Italy in New York last September. Pretentious bastard.

He grabbed Cleaver, his acoustic guitar, and flopped on to the sofa in the living room. Cleaver was a sweet maple Gibson he’d bought back in 1962 when he was still in high school, and paid for it with the money he’d made working a paper route. He remembered the first time he saw it hanging in one of the windows at the Woolworths on Main Avenue in Passaic. He thought then it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and still did. Even though he wailed on a Fender onstage, the axe never felt as good in his hands as good ol’ Cleaver did.

There were a lifetime of memories scarring the neck and body. Every nick and scratch had a story to tell. Like the little ding next to the bridge, for example. He remembered exactly how and when it’d been put there — by a carelessly tossed shoe on the night he lost his virginity to Vincenzo Genovese.

A smile lifted his lips even now, as he ran his finger over the dimple in the otherwise smooth wood. God, they’d been so young, their bodies so hard and eager. It’d been over almost as soon as it began, but he could still almost feel the sharpness of his orgasm, how it had ripped through his body like white lightning, searing every part of him. His cock stirred as the old, aching need surfaced again.

And deflated just as quickly as the other memory he associated with Vinnie Genovese surfaced. He rubbed his jaw as if he could still feel Vinnie’s hard fist connecting with it, loosening two teeth.

You were both seventeen, and confused about who you were and what you were feeling. Him more than you. How long are you gonna hold on to that grudge?

Shut up, he told the needling voice in his head. He didn’t want introspection right now. He wanted escape.

Trying to push the negative feelings away, his fingers began to strum the strings. It took several moments before he realized he recognized the tune, although he hadn’t played it in years. It was Schoolboy Blues, the song he’d written for Vinnie. The lyrics came back to him with the melody, and he began to sing, low and sweet.

“Your hands play my body like I play my guitar, drawing out a melody my heart sings; no matter where we are, near or far, I will always love the magic loving you brings.”

He stopped playing, silencing the guitar by pressing his palm over the strings, and ended the song with a wry snort. The lyrics were amateurish, syrupy high school crap, sure, but they still made his throat tighten and brought a curious burning to his eyes.

“Fuck you, Bernie. Why Jersey? Why now?”

 

More from Kiernan at Changeling Press …

Kiernan’s stories of gay romance envelop diverse themes ranging from paranormal to fantasy, and science fiction to contemporary romance. She has fifteen novels currently in print and ebook, and over eighty shorter works available in both mediums. Contrary to popular opinion, she is not a zombie. Yet.

You can find Kiernan on her website at http://www.kiernankelly.com/ or on Facebook or at Cafe Risque http://caferisque.blogspot.com, or you can e-mail the author.

 

 

Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’ by Mychael Black #DarkFantasy #NewRelease #GayRomance #LGBT #PNR @changelingpress

Can't You Hear Me Knocking (Set In Stone Multi-Author 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

When Jacob’s eccentric mentor Malcolm dies, Jacob finds himself falling down the proverbial rabbit hole. Lucid dreams keep him questioning his own sanity. When he meets Christian, things only get stranger.

Is Christian real, or is Malcolm just trying to drive Jacob insane from beyond the grave?

 

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Praise for Can’t You Hear Me Knocking (Set in Stone) “What a ride! If you like stories with lots of supernatural mystery, if a young man trying to decide what’s real and what’s a dream is your thing, and if you’re looking for a read with twists and turns that might just turn you completely around, then you might like this short story. ”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Mychael Black

I left the group to their dinner, set the tray on the counter, and tugged out my order book before heading to the next table.

“Hello and welcome to Will’s Bar and Grill,” I stated. I opened up my book and finally looked at the lone diner.

Something about him seemed familiar, though I had no idea why. His light gray eyes drew me in, so much that it took considerable effort to get my brain to function again. I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

He smiled the slightest bit. “Water, please.”

“Any appetizers to start?”

“No, but I’d like to hear your opinion on the steaks.”

No one had asked me that in a long time. Hell, Malcolm had been the first to ever ask at all, five years before he…

No. No way was I heading down that road again.

“The New York Strip is good,” I said.

“But is it your personal favorite?” the man asked, leaning a little, his arms folded on the table in front of him.

“No. Mine is the sirloin.”

He nodded. “The sirloin it is. Rare, please.”

“Sides?”

“Surprise me.”

Okay…

“I’ll have your water out in a moment.”

I tucked my book back into my apron and left his table. I swore I felt his gaze follow me right into the kitchen. After inputting his order into the computer system for the kitchen, I fixed his water. Then I grabbed the steak sauce and ketchup and headed for his table. Instead of observing his surroundings or a cell phone like most people, he stared straight at me. It was unnerving, to say the least.

“Your dinner will be up soon,” I said as I set his water and the condiments down.

“Thank you, Jacob.”

I froze and met his gaze. Something about the way he said my name made every hair stand on end. His tone held a touch of intimacy, of personal knowledge about me, that sent a chill through my body.

“You’re welcome,” I muttered.

Thankfully, another table waved me over. I excused myself and returned to my duties. When his food came out, I asked another server to deliver it on the pretense that I was with a large group.

When he left, I nearly dropped the folder with the check. His bill had only been a hair over twenty bucks, but he’d tucked in a fifty and disappeared.

“So did you get a good tip from Mr. Creepy?” my friend, and fellow server, Ellen asked when I returned to the register to cash out his check.

I held up the fifty and the check.

“Holy shit! What did you do to get that?”

“Fuck if I know,” I said with a shrug. I finished and started my sidework. “Just glad he’s gone. He was weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Ellen replied before she left to do her own sidework.

I got mine done fairly quickly and told her goodnight before heading out. The cool night air helped me relax after a hectic shift. Hands tucked into my light jacket, I walked the two blocks to my apartment building. The city streets had emptied, for the most part, with only a few stragglers here and there. I ignored them and started up the outside steps to the second floor of my building. Another man came down from the landing, and I nearly bumped into him.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Long night.”

“That’s quite all right, Mr. Hewitt.”

I snapped my head up and stared into very familiar gray eyes. “How…”

He smiled. “I am not without my wiles.”

I had nowhere to go, and I didn’t trust this guy as far as I could throw him. I started backing down the steps. No way was I gonna go to my door so he could see which one it was.

“Look, man. I don’t know you. I don’t know what this is about. But I swear to God, if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call the cops.”

He sighed. “Jacob… come now. Is this any way to treat an old friend?”

“Excuse me?” I blinked and stopped halfway down, still facing him. “I’ve never seen you before tonight!”

“On the contrary, you have,” he said. “But I will leave you be for now. We shall meet again.”

I stumbled out of the way as he passed me. He didn’t look back, and I watched until he rounded a corner nearly a block away. Then, only then, did I run up the steps to my door. The second I got the door unlocked, I practically jumped inside and locked it — including the deadbolt and chain.

“No fucking way,” I muttered, backing away.

A shiver snaked its way up my spine. But a deeper part of me couldn’t help but be intrigued. The guy was handsome. Long pitch black hair, a toned build, and those damned eyes…

 

More from Mychael at Changeling Press …

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

 

 

Like a Thief in the Night by E.D. Parr #GayRomance #NewRelease #LGBT

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Gorgeous, businessman, Saxon Dearing buys a pied de terre in the city where he works. Only using the place on three nights, he goes home to his beachside house for the rest of the week. At thirty-two, immersed in his work, he doesn’t know he’s lonely until delicious, twenty-five year old Jon Palmer literally drops into his life during a thunderstorm.

Artist Jon struggles to sell his paintings from a tiny studio, and works in a city gallery to pay his rent. As the two men fall in love, Jon can’t overcome the idea his lack of success is a barrier to telling handsome, wealthy Saxon how he feels.

When his boss offers him a dangerous way of making money, Jon must make a choice.

Will he risk telling Saxon he loves him or let his lack of confidence lead him astray and away from the man who loves him, too?

 

Today we welcome, Saxon Dearing one of the heroes

 

I’ll make this interview fun…

 

Saxon, If you were a dessert, what would you be?

 

(Laughs) A dessert … well I know Jon likes ginger cookies, but that’s not really a dessert, huh? Okay I know, lemon meringue pie, yeah.

 

What do you do when you need to blow off steam?

 

If I’m in the city I go to the gym and beat the crap out of a punch bag. If I’m at the beach house, I run on the beach, although I do keep to the wet sand and I like to wear my iPod

 

What do you look for in a man?

 

Nothing now I’ve met Jon. He’s perfect for me. I love him. He’s intelligent, creative, good-looking, sexy, sweet … I could go on all day about him.

 

What is in your refrigerator right now?

 

In the city, steak, lettuce, cherry tomatoes … a half pack of beer, what else … a red pepper. There’s not that much because Jon and I are going up to the beach house tonight.

 

What’s on your bedroom floor?

 

In the city, my old baseball bat, that’s under the bed.

 

What do you wear in bed?

 

Depends what I’m doing (smiles) so it ranges from a t-shirt and boxers to nothing … (smiles again) mostly nothing now

 

Light on or off?

 

Either, both

 

Chocolate or vanilla?

 

Is that for licking off Jon’s abs? Has to be chocolate.

 

What’s your biggest fear?

 

Oh, well, I have to think about that for a second. I could say spiders or losing on the stock market but truth is it’s losing Jon’s love. It would break my heart.

 

What is your most treasured possession?

 

After the last question … Jon’s not my possession but I treasure him. If it has to be a possession, then it’s a drawing Jon gave me … he’s an artist.

 

What’s your favorite outfit?

 

I have some old faded levis and beaten up leather boots that I rely on when I’m not in suits. I usually throw on a t-shirt and my battered leather jacket over the top. I have to wear suits for work. I like my black one best.

 

What do you like to see Jon dressed in?

 

Anything he likes, (his eyes mist a little) although I do like him in the tux he wore for our wedding, and in his ripped jeans, because there’s a frayed bit high on his thigh…

 

Do you have a favorite music track?

 

My taste and surprisingly Jon’s too, is eclectic. We’re listening to old Coldplay stuff right now … love them.

 

Tell the readers something you’ve never told anyone before.

 

(Grins) What? You mean spill a secret? You do. (Takes a deep breath) I have nothing for you, nope not a thing…

 

We’ll make that the last question. Thanks for visiting. Where are you off to next?

 

(Smiles) You know that’s another question, right?

 

We have a story teaser for you from, Like a Thief in the Night

Jon struggled into a sitting position. “What time is it?”

Saxon shook his head. “I don’t know, but maybe nine or ten.” Saxon sat up.

“Hell, not ten please.” Jon leaped from the bed and dashed to his backpack where he snatched a smartphone from the front zipper pocket. He ran his hand through his sleep-ruffled hair. It stood on end at the front. He cast a glance at Saxon. “It’s nine. I start at nine-thirty. I’m sorry, I have to dash.”

“It’s okay. Will I make you a coffee while you dress?”

“Thanks for thinking of me, but I’ll make a cup at the gallery.” He ran into the bathroom and came out moments later in the jeans and sweater Saxon had seen him wearing the night before. He dropped a pair of boots to the floor and zipped up his fly as he pushed bare feet into them.

Saxon gazed at the spectacle. He got out of bed and walked rapidly to the kitchen remembering Jon’s jacket was draped over the back of a chair. He brought it to Jon.

Jon rewarded him with a smile. “Thank you. Is it okay to leave my pajamas in the bathroom?” He slipped his jacket on and grabbed up his backpack.

To Saxon’s surprise and delight, Jon kissed him by the side of his mouth.

“See you tonight. Thank you so much.” He strode to the door, opened it, and left.

Saxon went to the bathroom and picked up Jon’s pajamas. He hung them from a hook on the door and dragged on his robe from the other hook. Jon’s socks lay in a damp bunch on the floor next to the shelf housing towels. His boots must leak. Concern furrowed his brow. He put the socks in the laundry hamper. They can go in the wash. I’ll get coffee first. I’ve missed early trading. Perhaps it doesn’t matter this once. Saxon hummed as he heaped coffee grains into the filter. An unfamiliar deep happiness bubbled in him.

Copyright E. D. Parr 2019, Evernight Publishing

 

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99 cent sale! CAN’T GET ENOUGH (a rock star romance) by Harley Wylde @HarleyW_Writer #99cents #onsale #NewAdult #RomanceBooks

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On sale until 11:59pm pacific time on August 10th!

 

JACE
When Sinful Seduction made it big, my life changed, and not always in awesome ways. The groupies were great at first, until one decided to fake a pregnancy and claim the kid was mine. My bandmates had my back, and while the woman backed down fast when I demanded a paternity test, it still shook me. I knew it was time for another change, one where I kept my pants zipped. And then I saw her across the bar… the goddess with golden waves, and her sexy little librarian outfit. I knew she was different, and I wanted to make her mine. Should have known better than to get drunk in Vegas. You know how they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? Bullshit. Total and complete bullshit. But maybe this time my mistake will turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

HONEY
I dumped my cheating fiancée, hopped a plane to Vegas, and hit the latest writer’s convention. On what should have been my wedding day, I was throwing back drinks like they were fruit punch. To be fair, they probably had fruit punch in them. When I woke up the next morning with a hard body pressed to mine, and a silver band on a very important finger, I thought I’d screwed up more than ever before. Imagine my surprise when the wannabe rocker I married turned out to be even more famous than me — and wait for it — he wanted to stay married! Even with a battered heart, I still believed in happily-ever-after, but what could a rock star and a romance author have in common?

Chemistry… Intense, curl your toes, melt your panties chemistry. Relationships have been based on worse, right?

*WARNING: If you don’t like foul-mouthed bad boys, lots of hot sex, and an accidental marriage, then you should probably skip this book.

 

Still not sure it’s the right book for you? Keep reading for a sneak peek…

 

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

JACE

I stared into the crowd, their faces and writhing bodies a blur under the multi-hued lights. Sweat rolled down my temples and my spine as the lyrics poured out of me, more out of habit than passion. Fierce Seduction had been at the top of the charts for the past year as we’d toured the country. My fingers flew over the strings of my guitar, the riffs to the songs coming as easy as the women screaming my name. I couldn’t look at them without seeing her face, the stupid cunt who thought she was going to catch herself a one-way ticket to stardom.

It had been the week from hell. A groupie I’d fucked nearly a damn year ago contacted my manager, threatening to go public if I didn’t pay her a million dollars to keep quiet. She claimed the baby she’d had two weeks before was my son, but I knew better. I was super fucking cautious when it came to fucking the whores who threw themselves at me. I not only wore a condom, but I usually pulled out too. No way in hell I was getting trapped by some gold-digging bitch.

Fuck. Would this concert never end? We were playing Vegas, and the venue was sold out. It was our last show before heading home on Monday. The band had agreed we’d play Friday night, then fuck around for two days on the strip before flying back to L.A. Best fucking idea ever. I wasn’t big into gambling, but the bar at the Bellagio was calling my name. I was certain they had several bottles of vodka with my name on them. I just hadn’t decided if I was celebrating the fact that the kid wasn’t mine or trying to drown myself over the fuckery that was my life. When you’d fucked enough women that they all blurred together, and your reputation was so tattered those same women thought they could blackmail you, then maybe it was time to get off the merry-go-round.

The last few bars of the song played out, our final for this show, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell off the stage. The fans screamed and catcalled, all of them wanting a piece of us. It had been a thrill a minute when the stardom had first hit. I couldn’t believe how lucky we’d been, or that we were finally riding the top of the charts. There was this huge rush when we took the stage, or when some hot college girl tossed her panties at me, or better yet, informed me she wasn’t wearing any. I’d definitely earned my reputation as a panty dropper. I’d been proud as hell of the way women fawned all over me, until that wake-up call last week. Nothing can kill your buzz quicker than some chick claiming she got knocked up with your kid, some faceless stranger you fucked and forgot. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever learned her name before bending her over.

Backstage, I snagged a bottle of water and guzzled the entire damn thing. Tossing it into the trash, I braced myself for what came next. The adoring fans who had backstage passes. A VIP room had been set up for the occasion, and I knew those women only wanted one thing. To lay claim to one of us for the night, hell, even for an hour.

“You in a hurry to get your dick wet?” Simon asked with a leer. “A room full of free pussy, and it’s all ours for the taking.”

“I’m signing some autographs then I’m getting the fuck out of here,” I said as I stormed down the hallways toward a fate worse than death.

“Since when do you turn away free pussy?”

“Since Rochelle.” I’d tried not to utter that cunt’s name, but it was ingrained in my memory ever since I’d gotten the letter from her attorney.

Simon winced. “That was some rotten luck, but it all worked out. You demanded that paternity test and proved her to be the fucking liar that she is. You’re not going to let one woman fuck with your head like that, are you?”

I shrugged and pushed through the doors to the VIP room. The squeals and shrieks assaulted my ears as about six pairs of hands reached for me. Revulsion rolled through me as I looked at their too-heavy makeup and skin tight clothes. Why had I ever been attracted to women like these? They were desperate and didn’t care who they hurt, as long as they got what they wanted. Me.

Signing whatever they thrust my way—paper, water bottles, boobs—I finally made my way through the crowd and out the doors on the opposite side. When I rushed outside of the venue, I ignored the screaming fans, trusting that security would keep them off my back while I disappeared into the night. I took several detours, making sure I wasn’t followed, and finally arrived at the Bellagio. I’d stayed here before when I wasn’t touring with the band, and as I stepped inside, it felt like the building was welcoming me back. The place was packed, but I managed to find a spot at the end of the bar. Hopefully out of sight of everyone but the bartender.

I motioned for him to come over and ordered six shots of vodka. They burned on the way down as I slammed one after another. It would take a hell of a lot more to get me shitfaced, but it was a decent start. The next hour blurred as I downed everything from vodka to whiskey to Jagermeister.  I felt warm, and loose, and completely blissed out by the time I noticed her.

My eyes took in the neat updo and the prim glasses perched on her nose. The way she sipped at the fruity drink in front of her made me think this wasn’t her usual scene. The dress she had on was sexy yet sedate. Fuck if she didn’t make me burn hotter than the god damn sun. Her lips, a succulent berry color, fit around the straw of her red drink, and I watched as her gaze flitted around the room. The jackass next to her was so fucking drunk he nearly knocked her off the barstool twice, earning the creep a glare that would have made a cross nun proud. I half expected her to whip out a ruler and rap his knuckles with it.

Whoever this angel was, I knew I wanted to find out more about her, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to do that sitting way over here. I shouldered my way through the crowd and shoved the drunk off his stool before claiming it for myself. She blinked up at me in surprise, the blue depths of her eyes pulling me in. The angel licked her lips as she leaned a little closer.

Holy Hell.

“Thank you,” she murmured, a slight slur to her words. Just how many of those drinks had she had?

“I won’t knock you off your stool, but I can’t promise I won’t sweep you off your feet.”

What. The. Fuck. Did that shit really just come out of my mouth?

She giggled, and her cheeks flushed pink. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. She had this sexy librarian vibe going and my fingers itched to get her out of that dress. Was she wearing plain cotton underneath or something lacy and hot as fuck? I’d never chased a woman before, but this little beauty was enough to knock me to my knees. Yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of…

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Honey.”

My eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Honeysuckle. My mother was a hippy.”

Oh yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of Honey.

“Jace,” I said, holding out my hand.

 

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Harley is the international bestselling author of the Dixie Reapers and Devil’s Boneyard series.

When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

 

 

 

 

Indulge Me (Wanna Be Bad) by Tina Donahue #RomanceBooks #NewRelease #Contemporary @tinadonahue @evernightpub

Indulge Me-complete

 

Nothing forbidden…nothing held back.

Lissa prefers reading to cutting loose, but is willing to do whatever it takes to get the juiciest assignments for her job at a major travel magazine. Her chance finally arrives. She’s set to experience a posh Caribbean resort, a dream article and review except for one huge problem. It’s the anything goes theme week where nudity is expected and lusty hook-ups make threesomes look downright tame. Holy Hell. What has she gotten herself into?

Precisely what resort owner Jon Thorne thinks. Tall, dark, and luscious, he fears the randy male guests will eat her alive, resulting in a lousy review. His only option is to serve as her guide for every decadent delight from nude body painting to Dom’s Den where submission and punishment rule. Unless she wants to call the whole thing off…

And lose her chance with him, plus give up this gig? Dream on. Tempted beyond anything she’s known, she matches his passion and then some, surprising him during a sexy adventure like no other.

Teaser 5 - INDULGEME

 

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Teaser 1 - INDULGEME

 

A LITTLE TEASE…

“The writer from the travel magazine is here.”

“Send him in.”

“Ah … okay.”

Her hesitation surprised him.

His door opened.

Shelby entered first, model tall and slender, dressed in a light green sheath that complemented her long, blonde hair. Her pretty face could have graced a teen magazine, the faint freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks adding to her youthful appearance.

She stepped aside.

A young woman stood behind her, her hair shoulder-length and partially pulled back. Several tresses hung free from her ponytail. The chestnut color proved rich, a contradiction to her pale complexion.

While her clothing…

Her loose-fitting beige pants and long-sleeved white top weren’t on par with the “anything goes” theme week, but the extensive material didn’t completely hide her curves.

He dragged his gaze back up to her glasses. They gave her an intelligent and serious vibe that also didn’t belong on this island.

She regarded the tan marble and gold trimming in here, graceful eyebrows arching.

The opulence was more than he preferred but impressed the partners. Confused as to why she’d followed Shelby inside, he glanced at her and mouthed, “who is she?”

She mouthed, “The writer.”

No way. He’d expected a guy. In fact, he needed an uber-extroverted one for a great review during the anything goes week, which got down and dirty fast. Not a woman who dressed like a librarian attending a spiritual retreat.

As a rule, he never judged. Taking a second look, he was surprised to find her pretty, her brown or hazel eyes and pouty mouth holding promise as to the possible fire smoldering inside. Possible being the operative word. She hadn’t breezed into here confident and ready for sin. Not a good sign for her enjoying the intimate events at the resort.

Shelby cleared her throat. “Lissa, this is Jon Thorne, the owner. Jon, this is Lissa Nelms, the writer from Exploration magazine.”

Lissa regarded the plush leather chairs, sofa, and his massive desk, then met his gaze.

Her cheeks pinked up, as they hadn’t earlier, lips parting, surprise or wonder flooding her features.

He wasn’t certain why her reaction to him was so intense … except it looked genuine. Maybe. Ever since Mackenzie had put one over on him, after the years they’d spent together, he couldn’t be sure about anything. Remembering his manners, he stood.

After taking him in from top to bottom, Lissa returned to his mouth, then his eyes. “Good afternoon.”

Her voice was surprisingly throaty. Sexy as hell.

His face and chest heated, a first during a business meeting or with any woman. Even those who’d been attracted to him hadn’t shown the same awe she did. Flattering, sure, but still… “Hi.” He rounded his desk and offered his hand.

She gripped it firmly, her fingers softer than a rose petal, her fragrance subtly sweet, gold flecks in her hazel eyes.

Nice. He stroked her thumb.

Her face flamed.

Time to stop touching her.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tina Donahue Picture - Color

 

Tina is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels were Readers’ Choice Award winners. Another three were named finalists in the EPIC competition. One of her erotic contemporary romances was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for one of her erotic romances. Two of her titles received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Another two won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

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Email: tinadonahuebooks@gmail.com

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6 9 2019 E Tina Donahue Banner

 

 

Credence by Gale Stanley #PNR #GayRomance #NewAdult #NewRelease

Credence (Wolf Pack 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Bleu and Grey are bonded, but a threesome with Alek leaves Bleu questioning their relationship. He believes the three of them belong together, but triads are taboo, so Bleu suffers in silence. Some things are better left unsaid. Still, fate keeps throwing them together. Can there be a future for two Alphas and an omega? Or will hidden feelings destroy them all?

 

button_get-it-today (4)

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Gale Stanley

Trapped. Bleu struggled against the tape binding him to the chair, but he couldn’t get loose. Fuck. I’m trapped here, wherever here is.

He looked around, but the unfamiliar room offered no clues. He thought about Grey. Would he ever see his Alpha again?

A click sounded behind him. Bleu turned his head and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Sweat beaded on Bleu’s forehead and he started shaking uncontrollably. His bladder loosened and he peed himself. He opened his mouth to scream —

“Wake up, Bleu. Damn it, wake the hell up!”

Bleu’s eyes flew open. “Grey?” he mumbled.

“Yeah. Grey. Who else?”

It took a few seconds for Bleu to register where he was, then Grey’s warm body overpowered the nightmare. “Sorry, I was dreaming.”

“That must have been some dream. You wet the bed.”

Bleu felt his face heat. “I’m sorry.”

Grey got fresh sheets from the closet. “No apologies necessary. Was it the kidnapping again?”

“Yeah.”

The same terrifying dream plagued him every night. Each time Bleu relived his abduction by John Smith, a man he’d once known as his college professor. Smith had found out that the Agéli Lýkon fraternity was a real wolf pack. The Alpha Brotherhood, including Bleu’s bonded lover, Grey, had the ability to shift into wolves, but John Smith needed proof. He held Bleu hostage, intending to lure Grey to his hideout. Smith got more than he bargained for. Both Grey and his best buddy, Alek, showed up and —

“Earth to Bleu. Stop thinking so much. It’s over. Smith is dead.”

Bleu sighed heavily. “Sorry, I can’t help it.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t want to think about it anymore. Just hold me.” Bleu slid back into bed and curled up like a baby, with Grey cradling him.

“I love you, baby. You’re safe now. You’re my omega and I’ll always take care of you. Go back to sleep.”

 

More from Gale at Changeling Press…

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

Some things never change.

Website: http://galestanley.net

Blog: http://galestanley.blogspot.com/