Born a Changeling by MD Stewart #GayRomance #Magic #PNR #NewRelease

Born a Changeling (Paranormal B&B 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Cam: I’m a changeling, a shapeshifter born to protect the innocent and serve my Queen, Hecate. While patrolling the Castle grounds in our supernatural world, a scent leads me through a portal to the Mortal Plane where I meet my mate and his charming daughter. An evil plot between his world and mine is trying to take them away from me, but I’ll die — or go against my Queen — to protect my new family.

Ben: My daughter, Seda, is my world, though I try not to give in and let her have everything she wants. But I can’t say no to her keeping the large cat she finds while we’re on vacation. It turns out this cat really is different — he turns into a very sexy man who crashes into my life and steals my heart. When something evil tries to cross into our world, Cam vows to put his life on the line to protect my child. I may lose one to save the other, and I don’t know how I’ll ever survive the loss.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 M.D. Stewart

Cam, Hecate’s Castle

I sat staring at Queen Hecate as she presided over the Others’ Ball. The light wooden ballroom was packed with gorgeously dressed supernatural beings of every species. The smooth stone walls had been polished to a mirror-like sheen, so the soft glow of the crystal chandeliers shone bright. Food from various districts in the Cross Roads were served on long tables that surrounded the vast room. The buzz of constant chatter and bursts of laughter sounded throughout the room as guests waited to hobnob with the Queen.

A line of beings waited to greet Hecate as she sat at her throne accepting praise from whoever was speaking with her. She looked stunning, as always. Her figure was highlighted in the dark blue dress that hugged her curvy body. Long black lace the same shade as her raven hair dipped from her high neckline, spilling to the cutout above her breasts and flowing over her bodice. Matching black lace fell from her sleeves, nearly reaching the ground. Her pale skin shone in the light of the room.

I was so bored I couldn’t help but yawn, my jaws cracking. Even my two hellhound brothers couldn’t keep me entertained. After their attempts to bat me with their huge paws or wrestle with me behind our Queen’s back, I ignored them both. When my whines didn’t garner attention from my Mistress, I gave up, flopped down on my belly and sighed.

I came alert when a green-skinned Terran Demon tried to pat me. Growling, I peeled my lips back, showing every sharp tooth in my head. I might be Hecate’s hellhound, but that did not give a demon the right to paw me like a pet. When it ignored my growl, I snapped, just missing its long, bony fingers. Asshole.

“Drirgan, you know better than to touch my hounds,” Hecate purred. “Next time I’ll let Cambrai take a few of your fingers as a treat.”

The demon gave me a look that promised retribution. I rolled my eyes and looked away. Drirgan couldn’t do a damn thing, and we both knew it.

I’d had enough, though. I stood and stretched, making sure the Terran Demon got a good look at my asshole and big balls. Then I trotted out the door and onto the grounds. The familiar soft, flower-scented breeze greeted me as I padded along. I took a deep breath and relished the freedom from the scents and stuffiness of the dance hall.

That’s when I caught a whiff of the most amazing smell, a combination of spicy cinnamon and sweet vanilla. I took off at a run, trying to track down the intriguing scent.

A bright pinpoint of light drew my attention. There! The scent was coming from that light, and I slowed to a cautious trot. The closer I got, the bigger the light grew and the stronger I was drawn to it. Voices murmured, and I thrust my head into the light.

Glancing around, I saw a room with stairs to my right, a large comfy couch, and several tall, padded chairs.

This was a portal to the Earth Plane.

I shook my head, amazed it would open for me. Hearing Humans speaking, I considered retreating into my own plane, but the voices weren’t close by. Besides, the scent that drew me most definitely was here.

I stepped through the light into a warm, welcoming atmosphere. Trouble was, I knew I’d terrify any human who saw me. My first and most used form, the hellhound, was huge by normal dog standards. Humans would probably compare my features to a pit bull’s, though I was much bigger. My head was larger than an average human male’s torso, and my front legs were as thick as most men’s forearms.

Definitely best to shift forms. With a thought, I changed into a fluffy domestic house cat. My brother hellhounds would laugh their balls off at me, but it would be worth it to find the source of that delicious scent.

A gasp drew my attention just as an angelic blonde girl-child raced into the room. Not being familiar with human young, I thought she looked older than a toddler. Her curly blonde hair surrounded chubby cheeks and a pink bow mouth. Her bright blue eyes charmed me — until she grabbed me around the chest and scooped me up, my back legs dangling. I inwardly sighed, knowing I’d officially lost the last of my dignity. I should’ve stayed in hellhound form so this young female couldn’t pick me up.
But no matter how humiliated I found being toted like a stuffed animal, I’d never hurt her. As a hellhound I was born to protect others.

The child screamed into my ear and ran on her short legs, my feet nearly dragging the ground. I closed my eyes, hoping the urchin wouldn’t trip over my long tail. “Daddy! Wook, wook! Kitty!” Her voice rose to a screech in her excitement.

At least one of us was happy.

I opened my eyes to see three very startled human men, two of them holding hands. The other male stared down at us, a smile spreading over his gorgeous face. He looked like a blond god — tanned skin, blue eyes and straight, white teeth. In human form, I’d have sighed as I stared at him. “Seda, be careful with the kitty.”

The angelic-demon-child’s father turned to face the other men in the room. “I’m sorry if my daughter is too rough with your cat. Seda loves animals, but she’s too young to understand being gentle.”

They shared a look before turning their attention back to the blond god-man. “Um, that’s fine, Mr. Travers. Josiah and I, we don’t have a cat.”

Mr. Travers took me from the child and pulled me against his chest. I was inundated with that amazing spicy/sweet scent and knew. This human man was my mate.

And to my utter mortification, I began to purr. Well, shit.

 

More from MD Stewart at Changeling Press…

My vivid imagination combined with my love of reading and sci-fi. As a kid, I spent hours writing stories and poems while listening to my large collection of vinyl record albums.

My goal as an author is to tell stories that help others find enjoyment, or to escape life for a little while. I want the characters in my head to become as real to the reader as they are to me, and I hope they find another heart to settle into. I also want to interact with the people who read my books, because you never know where your next friend will come from.

Website: https://www.amazon.com/author/mdstewart

Blog: http://www.mdstew.art.blog

 

 

Darkest Desires by Lynn Burke #BDSM #SilverFox #secondchances #RomanceBooks @AuthorLynnBurke

Darkest Desires (Print) (Darkest Desires 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

For those with the courage to surrender completely, Monique’s elite BDSM club offers the freedom to explore the darkness within.

Don’t Let Go: Troy’s ex called his desire to be dominated twisted. Divorced, shamed, and stripped bare of his assets, Troy is gifted with a three-day pass to Monique’s, Baltimore’s elite BDSM club. He hopes to discover the depths of his desires, not fall for Jaycie, the Domme with a turbulent past in her eyes.

Don’t Give In: The dominance in the stranger’s eyes reminds Stacey Lahren of her secret, dark desires, and the lifestyle she once dreamed of. One she refuses to give in to. Will Stacey have the courage to surrender herself to Devon, or will her need for a safe life keep them from the one thing they both long for?

Don’t Hold Back: Kelly secretly crushes on the man who rides the elevator with her every morning. Jamison holds his own dark desires. He wants a collared sub, a woman to enjoy the mutual pleasure his ropes bring. He knows he can set Kelly free, but can she find the courage to submit her body — and heart?

 

Available in Paperback

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EXCERPT

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lynn Burke
Excerpt from Don’t Let Go

I knelt in the middle of the dungeon-like room as I’d seen on the countless BDSM websites I’d been studying the past month, exactly like they’d shown us new subs at the introduction class the evening before. Butt naked, dick already at half-mast because I finally had the chance to explore the darkness inside of me that had killed my ten-year marriage.

As CEO of a prominent software company, I took pride in my self-control and stoic nature. Being a bastard had gotten me up the rung to where I sat comfortably behind a glass desk with windows overlooking Baltimore’s skyline. It had also earned me a nasty divorce a year earlier when my ex-wife took over half of what we owned, leaving me with a broken heart and near-empty bank accounts. At least a constant work load since then had gotten me closer to where I’d been before she’d attempted to wipe me out.

I studied my hands resting on my bare thighs. Springy hair tickled my palms. While the hair on my body remained a dark blond, the previous two years of hell had shot gray through the thick strands on my head and the scruff I couldn’t keep from lining my jaw.

Forty-three and already fucking gray. Wouldn’t help my chance at dating — if I ever got the balls to put myself out there again. I’d been celibate for over a year. Dead inside, unable to give two shits about anything but work, unable to get it up, too. I also didn’t have the energy to get involved, let alone think of dating.

Familiar exhaustion tugged on my eyelids, and I let them close while waiting for the Domme the club’s owner had booked me with for the night — Mistress Jaycie. A woman I’d never met, a woman I was going to let control me in whatever way she wanted.

Time to give over. Time to explore my lust for pain and hopefully float into that mysterious subspace I’d been reading about.

My dick twitched at the thought of pure, empty-headed euphoria.

Would the Domme I’d been paired with have a heavy hand? Would she be beautiful? Did I even care? I just wanted — craved — submission, the type that would erase the shit in my mind for a while and maybe get my rocks off.

My ex had been vanilla, same as I’d always been, and when I got the urge to introduce something new in the bedroom, she’d looked at me with disgust. Hell, I’d only suggested handcuffs and ropes, hoping she’d agree so we could eventually move on to what I really wanted.

No such fucking luck.

I breathed deep and exhaled my thoughts along with the lungful of used-up air. The silence coating the dim, private scening room at Monique’s club in downtown Baltimore soothed me. Even if it turned out the BDSM lifestyle wasn’t for me, I’d at least have gotten to experience a semi-hard dick again.

A click sounded as the door opened, and I kept my head and gaze lowered as I’d been instructed in the class. Awareness crept over my skin like an electrical charge as heels clicked on hardwood. My heartbeat accelerated. The subtle scent of oranges hit my nose as black leather stiletto boots came into my line of sight.

Hot as fuck. I bit back my groan as my cock thickened. I swallowed against sudden nervousness, something I hadn’t experienced since my teenage years.

“Hmm…” she murmured. The boots rounded to my left, disappearing in my periphery. “On your feet, slave.” Her low, husky voice prickled my skin, bringing my dick to full attention.

 

More from Lynn at Changeling Press…

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of hot romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com/

Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/

 

 

Her Wayward Rogue by Megan Slayer #MafiaRomance #SecondChances #NewRelease @MeganSlayer ‏

Her Wayward Rogue (The Jordan Brothers 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Sometimes finding your place means going back to where it all started.

Jaxon Jordan left the safety of the Jordan family to find himself. College, spreading his wings, and figuring out who he wanted to be were high on his list until one very bad night. When he witnesses his friend’s murder, his perspectives change. He has to go home to heal and be with the people who matter — his brothers and his girl, Emily.

Emily Wilson loved Jax once, but he left. She remained in her position working for the family. Part of her wants to open her heart to Jax again, but the rest of her yearns to stay guarded. One look at the man she craved reignites the passion she thought was gone.

Can love strike twice? If you’re a Jordan, anything’s possible.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Megan Slayer

Emily Wilson finished the spreadsheet and saved the document. She wasn’t fond of doing bookkeeping, but the paperwork was part of the job. All her employees’ hours were accounted for and every job had been assigned for the next week. She cracked her knuckles. She’d worked for the Jordan family for ten years, mowing lawns, tending to the gardens and creating the floral arrangements for the house. She still wasn’t sure if the family appreciated her efforts around the mansion. Dash liked her, and Christy treated her like a sister, but they were only two people among the many.

“Em?” Carter strolled into her office. Grass marred the worker’s shirt. “We can’t mow by the reflecting pool because the ground is too soft. We’ll end up rutting the turf.”
“Fair enough.” She wasn’t happy, but they’d had so much rain in the last few days, nothing would be fit to mow. “Otherwise?”

“We’re done. It’s past six,” Carter said. “Aren’t you going to close shop for the day?”
“Now that I know it’s six…” Damn. Where had the day gone? “Okay. Have a good evening.”

“You should go. You spend too much time here.” Carter frowned. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“No.” What was he talking about? “You do realize I live in the servants’ quarters.” She didn’t advertise she lived there, but it wasn’t a secret.

“I know.” He shrugged.

“Okay… then what’s wrong?” She hated guessing games.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” She folded her arms. “Carter, you said I should go, and it’s late. Spit it out or keep it quiet, I don’t care.”

“Jax is back.”

“Huh?” Jax? No. He couldn’t be. He’d moved to God only knew where to find himself. He wouldn’t come back to Shaker. Other than his family, he had no ties. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I saw him and was introduced to him.” Carter shrugged again.

“Huh.” She hadn’t expected him, but if he wanted to come home… fine. “With a girl?” That was none of her business, but she had to know.

“Nope. Just him. Dash’s pissed,” Carter said. “All I know is he’s home and alone.”

“Dash gets upset more often than not.” She sighed. “But Jax being home is his prerogative. Is that why you thought I’d leave? This is my job. I’m not letting him decide to fire me.” So he was back. So he’d probably opt to get involved with the family. So what?

“Everyone knows you and Jax were… close.” Carter blushed. “The rumor was he’d gotten you pregnant. It wasn’t a secret. One guy said he had pictures.”

“Christ.” Everyone knew the rumor, and she didn’t doubt someone had photographic proof of their relationship. “It was just a rumor.” She thanked God she was sitting down, or her legs would’ve given out. She couldn’t handle this.

“Right. You wouldn’t have gone pale if it was nothing.”

“Shut up.” He knew her too well. “I’m good, and he can live here. We’ll do our separate things.”

“You don’t care? What if there’s a girl coming later?”

“Then that’s on him.” She shrugged to hide her concern. A girl. Of course he’d have a girl. Jax, like every other Jordan, was handsome.

“Keep telling yourself you’re fine and maybe it’ll come true, but I doubt it.” Carter shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, and thank you.” She waited until Carter closed the door to sigh. Jax had returned. She had no choice but to face him eventually. Maybe he’d ignore her and forget she existed. Maybe his girlfriend was indeed following later and Emily wouldn’t have to worry about him. She couldn’t concern herself with a man in a relationship. She held on to those thoughts because she had nothing better.

Her heart belonged to Jax. He’d been her first love, first kiss… first time. He’d taken her to prom and been her partner in crime. Where everyone else saw her as the gardener’s daughter, Jax saw her as a person. She wasn’t a charity case in his eyes. According to his mother, Emily was nothing more than something to pass Jax’s time, and he’d done her a favor by taking Emily to the big dance. She knew better. She also knew Jax. He had a wandering soul. Why would he come back to the family compound when he could explore the country?

But he had come home.

For how long, she wasn’t sure.

 

More from Megan at Changeling Press…

When she’s not writing the stories in her head, Megan Slayer can be found luxuriating in her hot tub with her two vampire Cabana boys, Luke and Jeremy. She has the tendency to run a tad too far with her muse, so she has to hide in the head of her alter ego, but the boys don’t seem to mind.

When she’s not obsessing over her whip collection, she can be found picking up her kidlet from school.

She enjoys writing in all genres, but writing about men in love suits her fancy best.

Visit Megan: https://www.facebook.com/theauthormeganslayer

 

Once You Go Demon by Sean Michael #NewRelease #GayRomance #BDSM #DarkFantasy #PNR @seanmichael09 @changelingpress

Once You Go Demon (Once You Go Demon 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

There’s a shift of power happening in Hell, and nothing will ever be the same.

Kerr has been with High Demon Horatio’s household since his age of majority. A natural submissive pleasure demon, for the last seven years he has been untouched by his master Horatio and his job has morphed into a more managerial role. Still, it’s a shock when goons from Master Belial’s house arrive at his doorstep to inform him he’s been sold and his new master expects him to come immediately.

Lost by Horatio in a card game, Kerr finds himself in the Belial household, where Ceris, Master of the Harem, takes Kerr under his wing. Kerr is not only honored and used as he was made to be, but he is given a newly acquired demon, Harmony, as his own to train. The three pleasure demons have a rocky start, but they have all the time in Hell to figure out how to work together, and it isn’t long before they begin to care for one another.

Meanwhile, Belial has waited for thousands of years for Horatio to admit he’s actually a submissive. When it appears that’s never going to happen, Belial arranges for his best friend to lose a card game in which he’s offered himself as the prize. Horatio can’t believe Belial would do this for him, but the council puts their seal of approval on the bet, and he has no choice but to offer himself to Belial, who immediately gets to work convincing Horatio that he’ll be so much happier as Belial’s sub.

Will Kerr and Horatio find joy in their places in the Belial household? Only time will tell.

Publisher’s Note: The novel Once You Go Demon by Sean Michael was available briefly from another house.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Sean Michael

Kerr stared at the paper the incredibly well dressed goons at the door handed him.

Sold?

Him?

He’d been sold into Horatio Liverage’s house to act as the man’s submissive since he was of maturity, and now, after so long, Horatio had sold him without a word? Without a note?

Nonsense.

Utter nonsense.

“There must be a mistake.”

The goon pointed one clawed finger at the insignia at the bottom of the page. “What does that signify?”

“Horatio Liverage.” He couldn’t deny it was his master’s seal.

“Then there isn’t a mistake. Bring us Kerr, and we’ll be on our way.” The teeth on the guy doing the talking brooked no argument. Neither did the tufts of smoke coming out of Silent and Scary’s ears.

“I’m Kerr. I have to gather my things, make arrangements…” Right? Didn’t he get that much at least?

The lower demon looked at the contract again. “It doesn’t say anything about belongings here. Let’s go.”

“I have precious things that hold my family name, and it doesn’t say that I can’t bring them. I am not resisting, simply gathering my stuff.” He could bargain with the best of them. He knew he had to convince them, though, as either one of them could pick him up and toss him over a shoulder without even trying.

Henchman One turned to Henchman Two, who shrugged.

“Is your master here? He can decide.”

“He is not. He’s away. As such, I am second in charge of the household.” He held no illusions that he was beloved or even a lover, but he was well trusted with finances and with all aspects of Horatio’s life. “I shall return in moments.”

He began to pack — the stash of jewels he had been collecting for years, his few precious books, his favorite clothes, and the music and computer that were his. He grabbed his toiletries, the hologram of his sire and dam, and the fragile glass orb that throbbed with a sweet, gentle light.

Both goons were frowning when he came back, pushing the pallet of his things.

“We won’t be party to you stealing from your master.”

“I haven’t stolen a thing. These things are my own and now go with me to my new master.” Fuckers. Horatio might be able to sell him on a whim, but these were his possessions and they were going with him.

They looked at each other again, shrugged, and turned, heading down the walk toward the truck at the end of it. “We’re not toting anything,” the talker called back over his shoulder.

“Not yet,” Kerr muttered.

He wasn’t some pointless goon. He was a highly trained, highly useful sexual submissive and house servant. Soon he would find a place with whomever the fuck the asshole prick that never made love to him anyway, dickhead, had sold his papers to, and then this mouth breather would do what Kerr said.

The goon opened the back door and just stood there, watching him putting his things in. “You’re riding back there, too.”

“Thank you so much.” He rolled his eyes, pushed his hair behind his ears, and climbed in, telling himself that he wasn’t hurt, that he was nothing but property, that he shouldn’t cry. One day, that might even work.

The door closed with a loud clang, leaving him in the dark, the engine starting up moments later. The truck lurched forward, sending him falling onto his ass.

He did cry then, silently, heartbroken. He’d lost his home, his job, his master, and no one had so much as warned him. Someone had written up that paperwork, someone had made the arrangements, and someone had thrown him away.

He couldn’t believe Horatio had done this to him, and without any warning at all, not a word to him.

The truck stopped abruptly, the brakes squeaking loudly. The door opened again, the dull grey sky seeming bright after the darkness of the truck.

Two little slaves popped up into the back and began grabbing his stuff.

He lifted his chin and firmed his lips. He was well trained, valuable. Special in his own right. Men begged to be wealthy enough to own him.

“Come, come,” murmured one boy, motioning for him to get down from the truck and follow. He couldn’t see the two goons. “You’re going to be in the salle, honored one. Your groom is Ceris, and he is the Salle Master.”

Finally, someone realized how important he was, what his stature was, even if he was a slave. He followed the lad through a side door and along a winding hall of stone. This place was much brighter than his mast — than his former master’s, more marble than rock on the columns and floors, white and light blue shot through with silver and gold.

When they arrived at the harem, the whole place still felt luxurious and gilded, as if the master lived back here as well as the front of the house. Well, his new master was very rich, there was no denying that.

A huge bald man stood as he walked in, bowing to him solemnly. “Honored one. I am Ceris, your groom. Boy, put the things in the gold room, then call for tea.”

The lad who’d guided him here bowed and went running with Kerr’s things, deeper into the harem.

“Welcome to Lord Belial’s harem. We were very excited to learn he won you and that you would be joining us.”

Lord Belial? Bel? Horatio had sold him to his best friend? Seriously?

“Thank you for your welcome.” He bowed automatically, his training taking over immediately.

“Tea is coming. After that, I imagine you’d like a bath. Perhaps something light to eat.”

Ceris was a handsome demon. The bald head exposed the little horns completely, and they glowed in the light. His bare chest was beautifully muscled, the gauzy pants exposing strong legs and hinting at a heavy cock. There was a heavy spiky gold tattoo covering Ceris’ ridged belly, marking him as Master Bel’s, Kerr was sure. Marked, but lovely.

“I… Yes, of course.” He was developing the world’s worst headache.

A lad, different than the first two, he thought, came in with a tray holding a teapot and two teacups. He left them on a low table, bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Totz. You can go.”

The boy did, hurrying off like he had somewhere to be.

“Please. Sit.” Ceris waved toward the benches that surrounded the table.

“Thank you, Ceris.” He and Ceris were equals, and he refused to treat the man with less respect than he deserved. “I was not aware I was to be transferred. Not until the papers arrived at the door.”

Transferred. Traded. Discarded.

“That’s unfortunate. Were you able to collect all your things?” Ceris asked, pouring out the tea.

“I brought the things that were special that I could carry. What will my duties be here? In my former home, I acted as valet and head of household — finances, staff management, that sort of thing.”

Ceris shot him a confused look. “I was led to believe you were a trained submissive, honored one.”

“Yes, I was. My former master chose not to use me in that regard.” Not for many years and not often when he had.

“Perhaps that’s why he wagered you in the game of chance he played with our master last night.” Ceris leaned forward and spoke quietly, confidentially. “He’s still here, sleeping it off. It got very loud and much was imbibed. I’m very sorry for the way it happened, but maybe it’s for the better. There is no where else in all of Hell that I would rather be.”

“I will thrive wherever they wish me to be.” He hoped. He had no choice.

Ceris looked him up and down, gaze almost like a physical touch. “I’m sure you will.”

 

More from Sean at Changeling Press…

Writing under S. Michael for Het Ménage and Sean for signature M/M titles, Sean Michael leads a classic double life.

Often referred to as “Space Cowboy” and “Gangsta of Love” while still striving for the moniker of “Maurice,” Sean Michael spends days surfing, smutting, organizing an immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs.

While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and perusing the Kama Sutra by channeling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to “Chicago.”

A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.

Barring any of that? Sean’ll stick with writing stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.

Ashes by Ashlynn Monroe #NewRelease #MCromance #bikerbooks #actionadventure @ashlynn_monroe @changelingpress

Ashes (Blood Moon MC 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Ashes: I’ve spent my whole life fighting. Fighting with teachers, fighting with foster parents, fighting with my demons, but my hardest fight was for my life. Someone shot me to protect my sister’s abusive ex. When I get out of this hospital bed, I’m going to find them.

Vivian: Nursing has been my life for so long that I’d forgotten I had a heart. He’s my patient. I shouldn’t be attracted to him, but this bad boy has such a damaged soul how can I not want to heal him?

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Ashlynn Monroe

Ashes

I stood in the courthouse parking lot, opening my left saddlebag.

“Hey! Ashes.”

My head jerked up and my vision hazed red. Will stood there with an expression that screamed he thought he was hot shit. My gun was in the saddlebag. Temptation begged me to shoot him, but with all the cameras watching, taking revenge here would be idiotic. “Fuck you.” I turned away from him, unable to stomach another moment of his face.

A loud pop reverberated. Sound echoed off the old stone buildings. I stumbled. My legs went numb. I dropped to my knees. Breathed out. Putting my hand against my abdomen. I pulled back and saw blood. Pain. My vision blurred. Blood. So. Much. Blood.

“What the fuck?” I looked up. Will was running. He’d never have had the guts. I glanced around, my thoughts turning hazy. I didn’t see a shooter.

Scathes. Family always came first. They knew this was my sister. They might be low, but no biker would do this when family was involved. I coughed. Blood splattered against the white skull painted on the tank of my bike. Blurred. Focused. Blurred. I tried to push myself up but couldn’t. The urge to clean up my girl was strong, but I didn’t have the strength. I held my injury, and when I glanced down the red seeped between my fingers. It was bad. “Shit.”

Shivering, I tried to look around for my attacker, but the only thing I saw were a few suits running in my direction. The last thing I wanted to see as I died was lawyers. My eyelids were heavy… so heavy…

* * *

Vivian

“Vivian.”

I glanced up, stretching my aching lower back the same time. This had been a busy ER rotation due to the recent measles outbreak. I normally worked in the ICU, but with the need for all hands, I was helping in emergency.

“Incoming.”

I watched the paramedics rush through the ambulance bay with the patient. He was under a thermal blanket, indicating the man was suffering from shock. They had him on oxygen. He didn’t look good.

“Viv, GSW, trauma room one,” Erica, one of the ER nurses, directed.
As one of the most experienced ER nurses on staff I wasn’t surprised she immediately directed me to assist. Hows and whys of injuries didn’t matter. Hero or criminal, this guy would get the same treatment.

In the trauma room, the EMTs were transferring him from the gurney to the bed. “Gunshot wound to the lower right quadrant. There’s no exit wound.” This guy was lucky — Dr. Blair was amazing.

I took my place on the right and took a blood sample. We needed to type him, fast. I glanced up to see the respiratory therapist remove the non-rebreather and intubate.

Dr. Blair stood at the foot of the bed, monitoring the situation while his resident took a spot on the left, ready to stop the bleeding with hemostatic gauze.

“Vitals?” asked Dr. Blair.

“Tachycardic, 170 beats a minute. O2 at 94% with oxygen. Temp 95. Blood pressure is 80/45 with a map of 50,” reported the EMT. “The abdomen is distended. Blood pooled around the wound. His color was ashen and distal pulses were weak. We gave him saline without any change in blood pressure. Victim was in and out of consciousness on the way here. He was lethargic upon arrival to the scene, but unconscious the last ten minutes while en route.”

“Exploratory laparotomy might be needed to stabilize him,” said the youthful Doctor Hanover, the resident Dr. Blair was precepting.

“Agreed. Let’s get our patient into surgery.”

I wasn’t getting a coffee break today. Dr. Blair glanced at me, and I nodded. I’d assisted him often and we enjoyed intense professional mutual respect. This patient was in as good hands as any, and in his condition, he’d need all the skill of our combined knowledge. Dr. Hanover looked over at me. The worry in his expression made my throat constrict. Losing a patient never got any easier.

 

More from Ashlynn at Changeling Press …

Ashlynn Monroe is a busy working mom. She loves her kids and family. Her greatest joy is creating stories to entertain others, and she hopes they bring a little more romance into the world. She’s been writing since her teens for her own enjoyment but decided in her thirties to share her imagination with readers. Ashlynn enjoys biking, camping, reading, video games, and filling her home and life with love. If she’s not working or chasing children, you can find her daydreaming up her next tale of romance.

Website/Blog: http://ashlynnmonroe.com/  

 

 

 

Dragons Wild by Willa Okati #PNR #UrbanFantasy #GayRomance #interraciallove #NewRelease #boxset @willaokati @changelingpress

Dragons Wild (Duet)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

There’s an old curse that goes “May you live in interesting times…”

Georgina’s Dragon: Gina may be a superhero, but all she really wants is to settle down to a normal life. And please, no spandex or comic book aliases. Too bad fate’s got other plans for her. Flaming hot plans. Like, an actual dragon, loose in her city. Gina’s no damsel in distress, but she knows she needs help. And the help she finds is hotter than the dragon — the sorcerer Dakarai and a zoologist named Randall. As if saving the city from a dragon wasn’t enough, now she’s got two hot men falling in love with her — and each other. She’s still drawing the line at spandex.

Wild Hunt: Delaney, a Celtic fusion musician, has spent his life creating love songs and erotic ballads with a driving rock beat. Then he meets Robbie and finds himself caught up in the whirlwind of a Wild Hunt. Feral, enticing Robbie captures Delaney’s heart, kindles his curiosity, burns him alive with passion, and draws him unwillingly into danger. The bindings and piercings that decorate Robbie’s skin are meant to keep him from betraying the secret that could save both their lives and win their freedom. Delaney’s determined to keep his man, and he’ll do what it takes to save him — even if it means sacrificing everything else.

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Willa Okati
Excerpt from Wild Hunt

Delaney’s guitar beat a thump-thump-thump tattoo on his back as he toiled uphill, toward the summit where he could look down and see the cellar. One of the oldest venue stickers, crumbled away in places, tickled his nape. He shrugged irritably and hitched his case higher on his shoulder.

“I have some aloe,” Black-Eyed Susan said, her sudden presence making Delaney jump. She had quite the way of sneaking up on a guy, didn’t she? “Well. I know where an aloe plant is. They won’t notice if I break off a stem. Probably.”

“What?” Puzzled, Delaney waited for Hugh to join them and reclaim his lady. Not that he thought Black-Eyed Susan would go along with anything she hadn’t chosen for herself. She reminded him of a maple sapling, small and thin, but with roots that stretched as deep as a thousand-year-old oak.

The flash of an eye through dark gold hair obscuring a man’s face. A double row of brass rings laced through with black suede, a false corset on a man’s firm back. Bared teeth, white and sharp.

“Are you all right?” Black-Eyed Susan stood on tiptoe to peer at him.

“Yes.” Delaney tightened a fist around his guitar case’s strap. He tried a fake smile. “I had too much to drink and went a little crazy. It won’t happen again. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it. Maybe going back to the cellar to practice isn’t such a good idea. I mean, memories and all?”

Delaney thought, for an uncharitable second, that he liked Black-Eyed Susan better when she was drunk, and knew he preferred her when she had eyes only for Hugh. “There’s nowhere else to practice,” he pointed out. True enough; all the good grottos and groves and niches had already been claimed by the time he and his had stumbled ragtag out into the morning. “Don’t worry about me.”

“What he said.” Hugh finally reached them. He playfully batted Black-Eyed Susan’s shoulders with the smooth flat of his bodhran. “C’mon, lass. You promised to dance as long as my wrist action holds out.”

Tam, forever Delaney’s darker shadow walking silently by his side, covered her mouth but wasn’t able to hide her smirk at the innuendo.

“That’s good,” Delaney said, the joke a welcome relief. It felt good to laugh. “You don’t even have to think about them anymore, do you?”

“Funny.” Not in the least bit insulted, Hugh rumpled Delaney’s hair and then Tam’s, bound so tightly to her head as to be immovable as a skullcap of dark glass. “We’re going to check around later. See if there was anything besides whiskey in the jar last night.”

“Hugh…”

“I know, I know. But you’re too out of it for me to be comfortable, so humor me, okay?”

Delaney couldn’t argue with that, not without ingratitude fit to shame a thief. “I keep remembering things. Not what happened. I don’t think.” He chafed his forearms, a little chilly despite the heat of the summer sun rising toward noon height. “More like dreams. Maybe. Crazy stuff. They’re throwing me off my game.”

He walked ahead of the trio before they could press him on that and stopped at the top of the hill. Below him, the cellar pit opened like a mouth in the earth, the rough-hewn stones its teeth and the heavy-hanging pall of last night’s smoke its breath. No one had been back to clean up. The ashes and embers of the fire made an ugly black smear in the middle, with cigarette butts and detritus littered about like random snow.

“Real nice.” Hugh caught up and pulled a face at the mess.

Delaney tried to lighten the faltering mood. “At least I’m not the only one who got too buzzed to behave.” He knew it was a mistake the moment he’d said the words. Words had power; any musician knew that. “Hugh.”

Hugh rubbed his jaw. “It’s in the past. Leave it there. We’ve got the place all to ourselves, anyway. That’s something.”

 

Get more books from Willa at Changeling Press…

Willa Okati is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, and a lifelong love of storytelling. She is definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

 

 

Born an Empty Soul by M.D. Stewart #PNR #UrbanFantasy #NewRelease #Rockstar #Vampires @changelingpress

Born an Empty Soul (Paranormal B&B 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Killian: I’m a well known singer in a famous indie band, but I’ve been alone for a century, living off others’ pain — until I meet my mates at a concert. Now I’ll have to do everything I can to convince them they are mine, or I’ll die.

Laura: Born and raised in Prenter’s Bottom, North Carolina, I watched the town wage war on homosexuality. As a straight white female, I’ve never been affected by their hatred — until I meet Killian. Now I’ll stand against the entire town — and my husband — to save him.

Barclay: I was raised in a strict religious household by emotionally detached parents. I thought being gay was a sin, until one night of shared passion with Killian and my wife. Now I’m struggling with my sexuality. I’m not sure I can go against the town even to save Killian — and my marriage.

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 M.D. Stewart

Killian

The sensation of crashing back into my body forced me to sit up and take a deep breath. I gasped and tried to slow down my jolting heart. It wasn’t unusual for me to suddenly return to my body once I’d fed. But this… This time it had been almost violent.

I threw back the covers and swung my bare legs to the floor, letting the cold hardwood hit my feet, grounding me. I had been on the mortal plane for generations, but I’m not human. Not completely anyway. I survive by feeding off others. Yeah, I know, it sounds parasitic. Which I guess is accurate.

I moved from the bed and crossed the room to the pack of cigarettes lying on the desk. Nasty habit, smoking — one I didn’t need or particularly like. Since it couldn’t kill me, I used it to bring me back to full awareness after I returned from my astral travels. The scent of sulfur almost overpowered the smell of lit tobacco, and I inhaled the menthol deep into my lungs. Sitting on the edge of the dresser, I took a few more drags of the cigarette before I reached over to turn on the lamp.

Even though I didn’t need the light to see, it showed that my red nail polish was starting to chip. Bollocks. I shrugged and took another inhale of the acrid smoke and held it in while I tried to remember every moment of this last feeding. But my thoughts always strayed back to my first memories of him.

It had been close to a year since I walked through a portal and spied the gorgeous man standing outside a large house. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve seen many good-looking humans, but something about him drew me. The connection was instant, and I flew toward him, unable to stop the need in my soul to touch him.

Though he wore a suit, I could see the outline of his muscular form. His hair wasn’t red or brown, but a perfect mixture of the two. His full beard and intense caramel eyes begged me to touch him. And I wanted to. I was pure energy at that point, but once I brushed him, there was a rush through my soul like touching a live wire. I threw back my head and let myself feel his innermost needs. They filed against every jagged edge of my cursed being, smoothing me out and filling parts of me that were missing.

I attached to him, not wanting to let him go, picking up bits and pieces of his thoughts and memories. His energy felt so pure and substantial, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to disengage. I looked past him to the small outdoor building where two men kissed and ground against each another, and felt this man’s energy rise steadily. It was almost like taking a shot of tequila. I felt the warmth of his sexual desire spread through me. Awareness of his name seeped into my brain, along with the lust energy I siphoned. Barclay. I wanted to climb inside Barclay’s body and bathe in his essence, but my energy reserve was filling faster than I wanted. I knew I’d unlock when I was full, whether I wanted to or not.

The redhead we watched turned his green eyes toward us. Barclay’s instant shame at his voyeurism pushed me from his aura. The most interesting thing was that I wasn’t sent back to my corporeal form straight away. This hadn’t happened to me before, so I knew it was because he was mine.

Later, when my anima geminae, — soul twin — went back to the house to retrieve an item he’d forgotten, I felt the spike in his desire again and moved behind him to see the men he’d just been meeting with. They were having the hottest sex I’d seen in fucking decades. My energy reserves filled so quickly that I was jerked back to my body. The change was so abrupt that I felt like part of me had been ripped away and left with him. It hurt in so many ways.

I kept going back to him, though. Once I feed on someone, I usually go on to the next person. Sometimes I can stay with one person for multiple feedings, but only if they have the energy to spare.

 

Get more from M.D. Stewart at Changeling Press…

My vivid imagination combined with my love of reading and sci-fi. As a kid, I spent hours writing stories and poems while listening to my large collection of vinyl record albums.

My goal as an author is to tell stories that help others find enjoyment, or to escape life for a little while. I want the characters in my head to become as real to the reader as they are to me, and I hope they find another heart to settle into. I also want to interact with the people who read my books, because you never know where your next friend will come from.

Website: https://www.amazon.com/author/mdstewart

Blog: http://www.mdstew.art.blog