Gunner’s Flame by Lynn Burke #bikerbooks #MCromance #RomanceBooks #NewRelease @AuthorLynnBurke @changelingpress

Gunner's Flame (Devil's Outlaws MC 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Contemporary, MC Romance, Men and Women in Uniform

 

Will Gunner choose his loyal Outlaw brothers or will he
choose the path that crosses them — for her?…

 

Mitch “Gunner” Flannigan rules the Devil’s Outlaws with a firm hand, one trained by his stint in the SEALs and tempered by empathy for other vets. When a curvy redhead in Army fatigues snags his attention — and puts him in the line of fire — he’s torn between wanting to bury himself between her lush thighs and helping to ease her return to American soil.

The recent death of Shelby’s mother and her cousin’s terrorizing only adds to the PTSD hindering her return to civilian life. Flames ignite when she’s thrown into Gunner’s arms, where she also finds safety with someone who understands her struggles.

Attempts on Gunner’s life threaten their future, but so do the secrets Shelby withholds from him. When those secrets come to light Gunner will have a decision to make. Will he choose to stand with his loyal Outlaw brothers or will he choose the path that crosses them — and leads him right into her arms?

Warning: Contains adult content, graphic violence, and dark emotional scenarios that may trigger some readers.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lynn Burke

Shelby

The coppery scent of blood filled my nose while sweat coated my skin from the desert sun beating down overhead. Screams echoed in my ears. My heart thudded so damn hard in my chest I swore an elephant sat on me, closing off my throat. Silent tears squeezed from between my clenched eyelids as I clutched at the shirt bunched in my hands and fought to keep the nightmares from taking over my head like they had since that day my platoon had been ambushed.

A waft of subtle, musky cologne trickled through the blood-scented air, and I burrowed my face into a hard, warm chest, seeking out quietness of mind, needing him to erase the memories of war I’d barely gotten a taste of before realizing I hadn’t been cut from the same cloth as my father.

“You’re okay,” the man’s raspy voice murmured over and over again, the sensation of rocking eventually pulling me back to D.C., my ears filtering the truth of my situation to my scattered brain.

I focused on breathing, desperate to keep from losing my shit like I’d been doing on a daily basis since returning home to find my fiancé moved out and on with his life. Having my mother lying in a hospital bed with terminal cancer had been my ticket out of the Army, but besides death, it was the shittiest way to get discharged.

She’d passed three days earlier, leaving me alone to deal with grief I’d yet to allow myself. Leaving me floundering in life, having lost all sense of belonging.

I only had one family member left — my older cousin who was supposed to have met me there at the memorial, and while I’d been on time I hadn’t seen him while chatting with the man holding me.

Voices buzzed in my ears, but I kept my eyes shut against the police, EMTs, and whoever else scurried around us to see to the wounded.

Eventually, the man — Gunner — pulled back and tilted my head. I forced my eyes open, blinking in the bright sunshine. He said something about cops wanting to talk to us, but I didn’t budge from the comfort of his lap, the feel of his strong arms offering shelter I hadn’t experienced since before the death of my father when I’d been a gangly, young teenager.

Gunner felt like… home. Something I’d felt had been ripped away from me while overseas. Returning to American soil hadn’t brought that comfort. Sleeping in my childhood bed hadn’t given me the same rest I’d hoped for.

I closed my eyes again, rested my cheek on his chest, the steady thump of his heart giving me something to focus on. My fingers once more found purchase in his shirt, and I clung to him like a lifeline to sanity that kept my throat-tightening panic at bay.

Eventually, the cops got around to us, a million questions I couldn’t focus enough to answer — even after I checked my messages to find my cousin had texted me a few minutes after the shooting saying he couldn’t make it.

At least he was safe.

Still shaking with the need to pass out, I declined going to the hospital when someone suggested I go. The thought of beeps and the sickening scent of bleach and death had my stomach heaving, making me feel even worse.

“I’m fine,” I insisted for at least the tenth time, folded in on myself, arms clenched tight around my middle while fighting off visions of Mom wasting away on her hospital bed.
Outlines of three bodies stood out in stark white chalk on the ground a little ways away, dark stains of blood still not completely dried or washed away. I tore my stare off the horrid sight, seeking out comfort.

Gunner and his two friends stood with another cop a few feet away, but his dark-eyed gaze stayed on me.

I heaved a sigh, settling my nerves the slightest bit at the understanding in his eyes, the connection I felt tugging us toward one another. I’d never felt need for someone as I did for Gunner, as though my body knew it would find solace and peace in close proximity to him.

The cops had my name and number, knew where I lived, and had jotted down what story I could offer. I was free to leave, but I hesitated, still dazed and uncertain of where I should go, what I should do.

Although I hated crowds, my cousin had insisted I go to the peaceful Veteran’s March for Peace, so I’d decided to take the train south into the city, but stay on the outskirts until our agreed upon time to meet.

The silent beauty of the walking crowd had soothed me in ways I’d never again expected to feel and almost gave me the sense of comradery I’d felt for a short time while overseas. Hundreds of people, quite a few in old uniforms from all branches of the military, had made their way through the streets of D.C. to silently protest the ongoing war, the ongoing loss of innocent lives even if recruits signed up knowing the possible cost.

Gunner and his two friends were of a rougher crowd, by looks, anyway. All three wore leathers and vests declaring them members of the Devil’s Outlaws, a biker gang aptly named from the northern suburbs, but I’d never been one to judge a person by their clothing choice — especially since Gunner had seemed hell-bent on helping me transition back to civilian life.

Also by looks, he was one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark tanned face, neck, and tattooed arms. He squinted in the sun while staring at me, lines crinkling the corners of his eyes as though he smiled on the inside…

More from Lynn at Changeling Press…

 

Dropping In by BA Tortuga and Julia Talbot #Gay #RomanceBooks #BDSM #LGBT #NewRelease @batortuga @juliatalbot @changelingpress

Dropping In (The Barn 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Contemporary, Western, Gay, Darkest Desire

 

Texas cowboy Ashton is looking to let off some steam in Aspen.
Snowboarder Max is so much more…

 

Texas cowboy Ashton is looking for a new experience when he heads up to Aspen to go to The Barn, a club that mixes all things western with his favorite BDSM lifestyle. He’s not looking for anything full-time, just a place to let off some steam in private, but that all changes when he meets Max.

Snowboarder Max is an elite athlete, but he’s always up for a good time. His attraction to Ashton is immediate, but he has no idea what to do with Ashton’s club or the things Ashton wants to share. He’s intrigued, but he also has a lot going on in his life too. Can these two find enough common ground to make a relationship work?

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Julia Talbot & BA Tortuga

Ashton Gregory stood at the baggage claim at the Aspen airport, waiting for his suitcase to appear. He could hardly miss it; the place was tiny. A couple dozen other people stood around with him, most of them looking determinedly at their phones.

All but that one over there.

Uhn.

Lean and blond, tanned as shoe leather with the brightest green eyes he’d ever seen and a little scruff of a beard that begged to be shaved off. Delicious.

Ashton smiled. This one was ripe for the picking, and he stood there waiting on his bags with a snowboard in a nylon bag. An athlete then. Drifting closer, Ashton invaded the man’s space slowly.

Those eyes kept sliding toward him, watching him, then looking away.

Yes. Hello, hot little man.

“That’s quite a ride on the descent, huh. Whoosh.”

“You know it. It’s a fucking rush.” Oh, fuck him. Pheromones were pouring off the man, the look dragging over him, bold as brass.

“What are you in for this weekend?” He knew some big snow event was happening…

“Gay Ski Week. I’m doing an exhibition.”

“What kind?” He returned the clear interest with a once over that made his snowboarder’s seem fast.

“I do half-pipe. You here for the skiing? You don’t look like a boarder.” Oh, look at that heavy ridge of need in those jeans.

“No. I’m actually here for a new adventure. I joined a private club.” He would love to tell this one all about The Barn.

“No shit? Well, good on you!” The bags started clunking out of the chute. Thud. Thud. Thud.

His bag was distinctive, a sleek, steel gray hardside.

“What’s your name?” Ashton asked. “In case you slip off. I want to be able to find you.”

“Maxwell Driver. Everyone calls me Gear, though.” Maxwell held out one hand to him.

“Gear, huh?” He leaned closer to shake, electric shocks running up his arm.

“I got a steampunk vibe, you know. Gears.” The little tease lifted his shirt, showing off a hint of ink — a series of clockwork gears that trailed up and down Max’s ribcage.

“I like that, Max.” His own tattoos were just as complex, maybe more so, based on the march of the seasons across the earth. Maybe Max would get to see them.

“Thanks. I got the work done in Portland.” Max grabbed a rainbow suitcase. “I hope you have a good visit, man. Enjoy your club.”

“Wait.” He touched Max’s arm, just lightly, but it stopped the man in his tracks. “Here. I get one guest for each visit. There’s a barbecue tonight, and more events all weekend. Call me and I’ll get you in.” He handed Max two cards. One with his cell number, one with The Barn.

“Ashton. I like it.”

Max slipped the cards in his back pocket, then grabbed Ashton’s phone, holding it out and waiting patiently for him to unlock it before putting in his contact information.

Ashton smiled widely. “I’ll use it, you know.”

“Promises, promises. I’m staying at the St. Moritz. Exhibition’s tomorrow. I can get you in. If you’re into watching, I mean.”

“I love to watch.” He would squeeze it in. “What time?”

“My run’s at ten in the morning at the half-pipe. I’ll be in red.”

“I’ll be there with bells on.” He was staying in Aspen proper, renting a condo through VRBO. If he liked it, he would buy a place, since he hoped The Barn would be a regular visit for him.

“Ring a ling.” Max put his bag on his shoulder, grabbed his board. “Nice to meet you, cowboy. I love the hat.”

More books from BA Tortuga and Julia Talbot at Changeling Press…

Cowboy (Bad Boy Romance) by Harley Wylde #MCromance #bikerbooks #RomanceBooks #NewRelease @changelingpress @HarleyW_Writer

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Contemporary Romance, Western, Second Chance Romance,
MC Romance, Silver Fox, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance

 

Jacey’s my everything, and I will do anything to keep her safe.
Even go back to the Dixie Reapers.

 

Jacey: Marrying Beck was a mistake, one I can’t get away from no matter how much time passes. I can’t leave him. It’s not just that running might cost me my life. I have no idea what he would do to the kids if I weren’t here to protect them. I can’t leave them vulnerable to a monster like him. I’ve never once strayed from Beck, even when he’s broken bones and done unspeakable things to me. My life is one never-ending horror movie. But now I have Ty… he’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to walk away.

Ty: The beautiful, sweet mom who comes to my ranch has a haunted look in her eyes that I want to chase away, and bruises she tries damn hard to hide. Kissing her might have been a mistake, but maybe it wasn’t. I’ve wanted Jacey Lane since the day I first saw her, and knowing her husband abuses her just infuriates me. Ty the cowboy might not be able to do much of anything, but Cowboy the Dixie Reaper sure as hell can. If keeping Jacey safe means I need to go home, then so be it. My brothers will stand beside me and help me guarantee that Beck Lane never draws another breath.

WARNING: Domestic and sexual abuse are mentioned. There’s some violence. And yes, there’s sex. Lots of consensual, hot, over the top sex. If you aren’t up for a romance that deals with the darker side of life and will steam up your e-reader, then you should give this book a hard pass.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

Jacey

His lips were warm and firm against mine. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d truly been kissed, and I’d never had a kiss as memorable as this one. The feel of Ty’s arms around me, his strength, made me want to melt against him. His tongue flicked against my bottom lip and I opened, letting him in, needing to taste him. Ty fisted his hand in my hair, not tight enough to hurt but just enough that it turned me on.

I hadn’t felt desire for anyone in a really long time, or had anyone desire me. His mouth devoured mine as he walked me backward until I pressed against the wall. I could feel the hard ridge of his cock as he pushed his hips tighter against me, and my panties grew damp. I wanted to rub against him, to beg for more. I hated to admit that I’d never had an orgasm, not even self-induced. How pathetic was that?

But I had to put a stop to it. This. Whatever it was. What we were doing wasn’t right, no matter how much I wished it could continue. I’d let things go too far, and I knew it. My only excuse was that Beck had been in rare form last night, even worse than usual. I lived with a monster, a man who made me do horrible things and wouldn’t hesitate to end my life. I was terrified of him, with good reason, and I was trapped in a nightmare. Just once, I wanted a moment of happiness. A few minutes where I was desired and treated with care. Didn’t make it any less wrong, but I could never regret this moment with Ty. I’d gladly burn in the eternal fires of hell for just this one taste of Ty, to have him hold me just once.

Pulling away, I placed a hand on his chest. His heart was thumping every bit as hard as mine. It was the first time we’d crossed the line, and it would have to be the last. My heart ached as I fought to say the words that would bring it to an end. I wanted him, more than just physically, but I knew it could never happen.

“Ty, we can’t.”

“I know, but I couldn’t resist anymore. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” He moved his thumb in a slow caress along my jaw. “Ever since our eyes met that first time, I knew you were special.”

“I’m married, Ty.”

He snorted and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve met your husband. You can do better. And I honestly wouldn’t call what you have a marriage. More like a hostage situation. You and I both know you’re just too scared to leave him.”

“Be that as it may, we’ve been married for twelve years. We have two kids! It’s not like I can just walk out.” I knew it was a feeble attempt at putting things back to friendship level. Guilt ate at me. Even though I didn’t love Beck anymore, hadn’t for a long time, I was still a married woman. At least on paper. I hadn’t had a true marriage with Beck in a really long time, if ever. What Ty said was true. I was scared shitless to leave the monster I’d married. I’d tried it before and paid dearly. I wasn’t sure I’d survive the next attempt.

“That isn’t a good enough reason to stay married, Jacey. You were only eighteen when you met Beck, just out of high school. People change. I know you aren’t the same, though I have my doubts Beck was ever anything other than rotten to the core, and it’s time you moved on. You can’t tell me you’re happy with him.”

I knew the feelings I’d been developing for Ty were wrong. At least, by society’s standards they were. In my heart, I knew that the love I felt growing for Ty could never be anything but incredibly right. He was just so sweet… so good to me. Far different from the way Beck treated me. There were times I’d close my eyes and imagine what life would be like if Ty were my husband and not Beck. It was the only way I could stay sane, to take a trip to another world, even if it was only in my mind. A place where the man lying next to me loved me and treated me right. Not someone who left bruises and humiliated me. No one knew about the pictures and videos. Or I didn’t think they did. It was stupid to daydream about a life with Ty maybe, but it helped.

His jaw firmed. “I’ve seen the bruises. I know you try to hide them, but I don’t understand why. He should be in jail. Men like him don’t stop with one hit, Jacey. If he’s done it once, he’ll keep doing it.”

Ty was right and I knew it, but that didn’t change the fact that I was legally married, and I couldn’t afford a divorce anytime soon. And it wasn’t just the bruises. Beck’s depravity went way deeper. Regardless of how it looked, I stayed to protect my children. Beck had threatened to take the kids if we ever split up. I was sure he’d do it, too. To the rest of the world, he was a hero, the type of man you could count on and call in an emergency. That’s the Beck the public saw. No one knew what he was like behind closed doors. I knew a very different Beck. I knew the monster. The man who would make his wife pose naked so he could sell the pictures online, minus my face of course. Couldn’t have anyone finding out what he was up to. I’d refused once, and only once. I hadn’t been able to leave the house for nearly a week he’d beaten me so badly. After that, he’d started taking videos and selling them. I was beyond humiliated. It was one thing to do that sort of thing because you wanted to, and another to have it forced on you, and by the man who was supposed to love and cherish you.

“Please understand, Ty. There’s nothing I can do right now.”

Or ever, for that matter. If I tried to leave, he’d haul me back and beat me again. Maybe next time he’d kill me. Then my kids wouldn’t stand a chance. At least I could do my best to shield them when Beck went into one of his rages, which happened more and more frequently. And as long as he had me to pose for his little side business, then I didn’t have to worry about him using our kids. I didn’t think for one second that he loved our daughter and son. I wasn’t sure Beck was even capable of the emotion. Whatever mental issues caused his problems, they were getting worse and I worried that he’d be completely unstable soon. Not that he’d admit he had a problem, and he’d somehow lied his way through the psych evaluation for the department.

Ty sighed. “You know I love Jackson and Danica like they were my own. It eats at me knowing the three of you are with that asshole.”

I smiled. Ty was amazing with my kids, and not just because he spoiled them rotten. He had befriended them, and had even let the kids ride the stable mounts free of charge. Both of my children had fallen in love with horses, just like I had as a little girl. And I worried they were falling a little in love with Ty too, much like their mom.

“Those kids took to riding like ducks to water. They earn their keep, helping with the horses. Hell, I wouldn’t charge you for Reaper, but I know you wouldn’t accept my offer.”

I looked away, feeling a flash of insecurity. Money was a touchy subject for me. Beck gave me enough to cover the stable fees for Reaper each month, and to buy groceries. Honestly, I didn’t know why he let me keep Reaper, except it made him seem like a doting husband. If I needed clothes or shoes, I practically had to beg for them. He always seemed to have plenty of money for whatever he wanted, though. Like a new gun, a night of partying with his friends, or anything else that struck his fancy. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if he bought some time with prostitutes, although I didn’t know why when he’d just take whatever he wanted from me. He didn’t know that I asked my doctor to test me regularly for STDs in case Beck gave me something. After Jackson was born, I’d also been sneaking birth control so I wouldn’t get pregnant again.

“I should be paying you for their riding lessons,” I said.

“I don’t want your money, babe. If I need more money, I’ll go back on the circuit.”

“Do you think I want to see you get hurt?” I cupped his cheek, moving in close again. His crisp, clean scent teased my nose, and I wished I could burrow into him. When his arms had been around me, it was the safest I’d felt in a long time. I’d give anything to feel that every day…

More about Harley…

 

It’s in the Mix by Ayla Ruse #PNR #UrbanFantasy #RomanceBooks @changelingpress @AylaRuse

It's In The Mix (Wit & Wizardry Multi-Author 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Magic,
Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures

 

Mix 1 part narrow minded fairy with 1 part human bachelor:
get 2 parts love everlasting…

 

Asling is not happy to be tending bar in a human pub. Her fairy aunt predicted she’d find love by the next full moon, and that means she should be back in Ireland — not in the middle of Massachusetts.

Despite the happy married lives of his friends, Daniel is content to remain a bachelor. After all, the pretty new bartender may want to come home with him. Why spoil that with a relationship?

Something might have happened on its own, but a mischievous pub owner slips each of them a Wit & Wizardry brew known to contain a powerful love potion. Before either can say a word, Aisling and Daniel find themselves tumbling headlong into love.

Unfortunately, all is not happily ever after. Aisling does not want to love a human, and Daniel believes he’s unfairly pressured her into being with him. When the pair settle down to breathe, can they discover something deeper to bind them, or will daylight make the heady effects of a potioned brew fade away?

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Ayla Ruse

Dirv walked into the break room, looking down at his clipboard. A Russian leshy, Dirv ran the pub for the leprechaun Dunn brothers, owners of the Wit & Wizardry brewery. He was a tall, gnarled man of an indeterminate age, with long limbs and a nose to match. To see him grouchy meant he was having a good day, and she couldn’t imagine him being in love with anyone save the forests.

“I passed your sister, and the bar’s getting busy. Mitchell is ready for his break. You’d best get your winged ass out there.” He glanced up, and Aisling twisted her lips. “Don’t worry over the brews. I promised those trickster Dunns I wouldn’t sell them, and I won’t. Customs should come through tomorrow, then you can take it with you and begone.”

“That can’t come soon enough,” she muttered. Figured the man heard her.

“For me too. You think I appreciate my best bartender and waitress falling in love and running off, leaving me high and dry? It’s because of those blasted brews.” His bony hand pointed and shook toward the stacks of beer. “And you and your sister wouldn’t have to be working for me tonight. So don’t take it out on me, fairy. Take the blame out on those Dunns.”

Aisling had no idea why, but listening to the man rattle on, acting upset, amused her. He wasn’t truly mad, because he loved a good trick more than anyone else, but he also loved to gripe. “No problem, Dirv. I’ll head on out and tend bar for ya.”

* * *

Two hours later, Aisling had been asked her name so often she practically growled it out in answer. That or flat out ignored the question. She’d also been propositioned more than she had been in her entire life. She’d had to do her best not to gag whenever a human dared speak to her. All her senses were overloaded with smells of beer, food, human sweat, and the thick New England accent that jarred her ears. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it. Lena, her happy, peppy self, had checked on her a few times, for which Aisling was grateful, but her attention kept straying to the clock, counting down the minutes until she could take her own fifteen-minute break.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Aisling didn’t even bother looking up when the human leaned against the bar. She’d been hit on so often she mentally blocked all their talk. “What’cha be needing tonight?” she asked instead and swiped a damp cloth across the bar’s work surface.

She could have sworn he murmured the word, “you,” and her head shot up at that, but his warm smile told her she must have been mistaken. Once she looked up at him, though, she couldn’t look away. She should be disgusted at the mere presence of him, a human, but he had the perfect, classic dark Irish look — hair as black as the Hidden Fairy Caves, eyes as blue as the deepest reaches of the seaside springtime sky. To complete the package, even though he leaned against the bar, she knew when he stood straight he’d be tall and athletically lean. His face was chiseled, and he looked as if he’d fit in perfectly with the clans of old. For a brief second she even imagined him in a tartan. True, she didn’t care for humans, but she’d always loved the old stories of when fairy folk would interact openly with them. She would be the first to admit she’d not want those days back, but looking at him reminded her of the old lore, and she couldn’t help it. She sighed.

“Miss? Are you okay?” He grinned, and his deep voice shook her out of her musings.

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. You said you wanted… ?” She tried to focus. He gave her his order, but nothing registered because she was so caught up in simply listening to his voice.

“Did you get that?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh, um, forgive me.” She rubbed her temple as if she had a headache. The noise is getting to me, I think,” she lied and averted her eyes so she wouldn’t be looking at him. “Can you tell me again what you’d like?”

“Three house beers, please. I understand the Wit & Wizards aren’t available tonight?” He sounded amused, which both made her upset and made her blush. She didn’t like the dual feelings so she ignored both to focus on her temporary job.

She answered the man while pretending to work her cloth over a stubborn spot on the bar.

“You’d be right. There’s been a recall. It’s nothing bad. The taste was a little off. You know those Dunn Brothers. If something’s even a little off, they’re not happy.” Why was she rambling?

She stepped away to put distance between them and to pull the longnecks from the cooler below the bar.

“No, I don’t, actually,” he said.

“What?”

“The Dunn Brothers. I don’t know them. Who are they?”

“Well, they’re –” sniveling, slave-driving, demanding Leprechauns “– um, they’re the triplets what own the Wit & Wizardry Brewery.”

“Fascinating. I take it from your accent you know them well?”

“I work for them.”

“Wow. You’re straight from the source, so to speak. Being put to work here must be the very definition of excellent customer service.”

“Being put to work here is called punishment,” she muttered.

“How so? My name’s Daniel O’Hare, by the way.”

“Oh, never you mind. Nice to meet ya, Daniel.” She set the opened beers on the bar top at the same time as he reached for them. She allowed their hands to brush. Allowed because she’d kept a clear touching distance from the humans tonight. But with this man, something told her that she had to know what he felt like.

More from Ayla at Changeling Press…

 

Molten (Box Set) by Kira Stone #scifi #aliens #alienencounters #GayRomance #LGBT #NewRelease @changelingpress

 

Mostly humanoid, definitely alien, sentient liquid metal.
Not what Dolan had hoped for in a lover.

 

Molten (Box Set) (Molten 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Box Sets, Futuristic, Paranormal,
Sci-fi, Alien Encounters, Gay

 

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Mostly Humanoid, definitely alien, sentient liquid metal. Not what Dolan had hoped for in a lover.

Molten: Condemned to serve as an indentured miner on a backwater way station, intergalactic translator Dolan knows more about Molten, the liquid metal that fuels Parkeet station, than most. So when he’s ordered to mate with a being that on first contact looks like a pool of the stuff he’s been mining, he’s less than enthusiastic. But his alternative is death.

More Molten: Dolan and his Molten lover, Zian, are on a mission — collect the bits of Molten that have been blown all over the galaxy. Can they rescue the younglings and return them to the Molten home world without blowing up this universe — or their relationship?

Molten Mayhem: Trapped in an escape pod with his mate’s future dependent on him, anger and the need to find Zian drive Dolan to escape, but time is against him. Will Dolan’s rescue bring the couple together or will it separate Dolan and Zian for good, and signal doom for the Molten race?

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kira Stone
Excerpt from Molten

I started stroking my schel — cock to many of you humanoids — and let my brain drift to sexual places I’d enjoyed in the past. My one and only session with the Orgasmatron. Threesome sex with the male twins from Fortunas Delta. And the one that just made my toes curl — a yearly fuck from the demon sex club on Trios.

And then there was him. The one I’d never had but always imagined to be somewhere. The one I looked for in every crowd. The one every other encounter failed, if only marginally, to equal.

Though I became instantly hard and ready to rock, the egg chose that moment to melt. Deform. Puddle.

Nothing will put a wilt in a creature’s sexual enthusiasm like having your partner disintegrate before penetration, let alone afterward. Unless, of course, that’s how they get off. But I’d never come across one who did that, and I didn’t feel that was the case with my egg partner.

The egg did this kind of melting thing, and then this pulsing thing, and then it just kind of ran together and began to rise. Not even a ripple crossed its surface as it took on another shape. That action alone should have told me something important but I didn’t figure out what until later.

When this organism finished re-morphing, it was my turn to collapse. Faint, really. For what I saw before me was not an egg, but the male of my dreams. No, I don’t mean the kind you have when you shut down for an hour in the rejuvenation chamber and wake a bit sticky. I mean the real mental fantasy I had when I was, err, egging on the egg. The perfect male I’d pictured but never met.

Now I know anything on Parkeet Station is labeled as humanoid as long as the being has at least two arms, two legs, one head and walks vaguely upright. All other details are optional and haphazard.

This humanoid was the best formed being the known multiverse had to offer. He had these golden eyes that fluttered open and closed with waves of emotion, and hair that hung in bronze streaks braided with gold to his waist.

His forehead had become so blue it was nearly black, but the color softened as it headed down his body until the tips of his toes were solar flare white. Plus he had all the right pieces in all the right places. So fucking gorgeous I couldn’t breathe. Didn’t breathe. Until my body reminded me that if I wanted to go on looking at him I required oxygen.

So I did that breathing thing again, and he still remained. My living dream. And, see, the thing is, he doesn’t really exist. My dream is just that. There’s no being I’ve seen in any dive, slave auction, or any other palace that resembled this creature. But there he was, standing in front of me, so he had to be real, right?

A morphing egg. One who knew what I liked. Egg sex then became not only possible, it just had to happen or my brain would implode. The concept of hearing “no” from those incredible azure lips just — no, not going there.

I stood and pointed at my chest, thinking I should at least attempt to introduce myself. “Dolan.”

It… he… turned his head as if considering this. “Xzavia’n.”

Right. The word sounded exotic and sexy, but he could have been talking about his mother for all I knew. But for now, I considered that his name. “Hello, Xzavia’n.”

His mouth crooked in a smile and I had the feeling he was trying hard not to laugh at my pronunciation. “Zian,” he supplied.

OK, that sounded like a name and one I could handle. I took another step closer to him and brushed my thumb against his cheek. His skin was extraordinary. Not plastic, not fur, and yet both. “Hello, Zian.”

He reached for my face and I anticipated a similar gesture, but he ran his fingers through my hair, tugging my face close to his, and kissed me. Deeply. Leisurely. As if exploring my mouth had no equal pleasure.

Bowie’s Angel by Lynn Burke #MCromance #bikerromance #eroticromane #NewRelease @AuthorLynnBurke @changelingpress

 

Can Bowie cut through the blindfold of lies and surrender to the truth in his heart?

 

Bowie's Angel (Devil's Outlaws MC 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Contemporary, Dark Desire, MC Romance,
New Adult, Silver Fox

 

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When a barely-legal blonde with a lithe, young body shows up at the Devil’s Outlaw MC strip joint to audition as a dancer, Ian “Bowie” Davies wants nothing more than to burrow between her long legs and claim her. She’s too young for his dominant side though, too innocent for the sharp edges of his darker desires. And way too hot to let another man touch her — a thought that has his hands itching to use his signature knives against any bastard who messes with his angel.

Hannah Harris ran away from home at age eighteen, desperate to escape the prison of her strict parents. Determined to delight in the sins her father preaches against, she puts her ballet talents to work, using a stripper pole to make a living. Dancing for Bowie and his blade has her panting to explore some of the “firsts” she planned to save for her future husband.

But when Bowie and his brothers attempt extortion beyond her parent’s ten thousand dollar reward for Hannah’s safe return, she’s left with a difficult choice. Offer up the evidence to put the notorious biker gang behind bars, or protect Bowie and chalk the shitshow up as a lesson learned and begin her independent life anew — without the lying bastard who owns her heart.

Can Bowie cut through the blindfold of lies on Hannah’s eyes and surrender the truth in his heart to win her back?

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lynn Burke

I sauntered through the doors of the Devil’s Strip Club like I owned the place even though my knees shook. Barely eighteen in a twenty-one and up only biker’s lounge, I had a mission and I wouldn’t be turned away.

Owned by the notorious Devil’s Outlaws, the “no-colors” club had been packed night after night from what I could tell from my tiny, third-floor apartment two blocks down the street. My new roommate, Cadence, danced in a nicer place closer to D.C., and had said the money was great when I told her I needed a job. Without a car, though, Devil’s convenience couldn’t be beat.

Muffled music thumped in the enclosed entryway, slipping through the tightly closed double doors ahead of me. The bearded, tattooed man on a stool beside them took his time checking me out from the tips of my black stiletto boots, up over bare thighs to the tiny leather skirt that hid the goods. A peek of my belly button and toned skin of my midriff gave way to a red halter top that showed off what little cleavage I had, my long, blonde hair waving over the small swells. The man’s focus snagged on my plump lips that shimmered with pale gloss, but eventually, he shifted his attention to my eyes, made up with makeup to make me appear older than the innocent soul I was.

“Hey,” I said, popping one hip out and smacking my lips together, while noting his shoulders, easily three times the width of mine, packed a mass of muscle beneath his black, button-down shirt. “I’m here to see Bowie.”

The man’s blue-eyed gaze slid back down over me. “He call you in?”

A broke-as-hell runaway desperate to make it on my own, I wasn’t above lying to get what I wanted, but the man stared at me as though he could read right through me. Partial lie, then.

“No.” I fought to keep my jitters contained. “But I heard he’s looking for some new skin onstage.” I slowly turned around to give him another look, arms held out at my sides, hoping like hell Cadence’s borrowed outfit would do the trick. I had to get caught up with rent, help with groceries, and I had a mile-long bucket list to tackle. Skydiving and learning to fly a plane didn’t come cheap.

Ever since I was a toddler, I’d always loved having eyes on me while dancing ballet. Now that I’d found independence, I wanted that feeling of owning the world rushing through me. What better way than to dance for much needed cash?

“Think I’ll do?” I lowered my voice, adding a breathless tone like the girls in some of the porno I’d finally gotten to fill my brain with — thanks to Cadence.

“I’d fuck every hole of your sweet body.” He stood and adjusted the massive bulge between his thighs.

Needing every advantage, I let my attention linger even if the guy did nothing for my hormones. “That a fact?” I asked, lowering my voice even more. “Think Bowie will see me?”

“He’ll want that pouty mouth of yours wrapped around his cock, that’s for fucking sure.”

In his dreams…

I flashed a smile, tipping my chin down to peer up at him through my lashes, so far out of my comfort zone the rush of adrenaline hit me like a high — not that I knew what a real high was. But, no longer hindered by religious, overly protective parents, I planned on sinning until I burned in hell. “What’s your name, big boy?”

“Brewer.” He held out a meaty hand, and I let him swallow mine whole.

As I’d hoped, his eyes filled with lust at the big boy nickname I’d offered.

“I’m Hannah.” My real name — its innocent sound matching every inch of my untouched body, but hardly my mind or soul. Finally on my own, I planned to live like my parents hadn’t ever allowed.

“Send me in?” I asked in my breathless tone again, pushing aside thoughts of my mom and dad, and how much they might be hurting because of my disappearance.

“Sure thing, baby girl.” His dress shirt tightened against his massive pecs as he twisted to push in the door beside him. “Good luck.”

The thumping bass of the song blaring through the open room heightened my heartbeat, its steady beat twinging through my pussy. A song to fuck to at eleven in the morning — not that I knew what that was like just yet.

Unable to keep from grinning, I stepped inside.

I’d done a ton of research online and asked Cadence a million questions on what to expect, but it didn’t prepare me for the interior of the biker’s strip joint. Dim overheads, flashing lights, the scent of booze, cigarettes, and colognes flooded all of my senses. Alive with life, alive with the scent of sin.

I licked my lower lip hoping for a taste, but satisfied with breathing it deep into my lungs.
The main stage lay directly ahead, lounge chairs pushed right up against it, allowing the few men seated to reach up and actually touch the kneeling, topless redhead jiggling her boobs at them.

Bills tucked into her little black thong, crotch-less, I noted, as she stood and bent over, giving the men a view of her bare pussy. I stood, rooted to the spot as the door clicked shut behind me, my smile fading. Did this Bowie allow customers to touch the dancers even if the girls didn’t want them to?

Cadence had said there was a no-touchy policy where she danced — unless they consented and danced in private rooms.

Lower lip between my teeth, I watched a full minute, recognizing most of the moves I’d learned over the past two months from Cadence, but the dancing girl escaped behind a curtain as the song ended, whatever virtue she had — if any to begin with — still intact.

A blond guy manned the bar where three patrons sat to my left, his focus on my legs. Toned from years spent in ballet and long, they definitely made up for my lack up top. Lifting my lips into what my new roommate assured me was a “come hither” look, I sauntered toward the bartender.

Hazel eyes, scruff, and a button-down black shirt similar to Brewer’s, open to reveal his hairless, tattooed chest… Not bad. Not bad at all.

He wasn’t the one, though. He didn’t give me that oh, mercy, yes feeling I would have to have before handing over my virginity. I planned on sinning a whole bunch, but that piece of me — that was something I’d held onto long enough that waiting for someone special set steady in my head.

I drew closer, hoping he was Bowie, because the yes in his eyes sent another rush of adrenaline through me. The way he looked at me, I was sure he would hire me.

“Bowie?” I asked, needing to half-holler to be heard over the next song blaring in stereo through the place.

“No. I’m Darling,” he shouted back, holding out his hand. He added, probably reading the confusion on my face, “And yes, that’s my name.” I smiled the sexy smirk I’d been practicing and slipped my palm against his. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ditto, babe. Ditto.” He held my hand a bit longer than necessary, his gaze flitting down to my meager cleavage. “You’re here to see Bowie?”

“Yes.”

Darling released my hand. “Come on.” He edged around the corner of the bar I stood beside and motioned me to follow him across the lounge.

I ambled behind Darling, my legs shaking and insides trembling. Pressing a hand to my chest, I breathed deeply, trying to slow my heartbeat. Acting like a nervous wreck, voice shaking, would only get me tossed out on my ass. I needed to own this interview — if there even would be an interview.

Brewer’s words about the manager wanting my lips wrapped around his cock flitted across my brain, but I wouldn’t get on my knees for any man. No matter how pretty, how powerful, how dominant. Only eighteen, I was my own woman. Independent, and I would never give that up to live subservient ever again. If it meant flipping burgers until I could find something else, I would do it. I just really hoped I wouldn’t have to. I hadn’t worked a day in my life since my father’s job more than took care of our needs, and I wasn’t sure I would be too good at anything other than dancing.

Darling dipped his head at a mountain of a man in a red plaid shirt guarding a door marked “Private” and pushed through. I smiled up at the unsmiling man, setting aside more thoughts of my parents. They had their church to comfort them — the congregation that had always been more important to them than their only child.

You’re here for a job. Own it. I reminded myself of that while stepping over the threshold.

A carpeted hallway lay before us, a glowing, red exit sign at the far end. Two doors lay on either side, and another even longer hall cut back to our left, a handful of doors along its length, a set of stairs going up at the end. We continued straight, and the door we’d entered through snicked shut behind us, muting the lounge’s music.

“Bowie’s office,” Darling said, stopping at the door on the left. He knocked.

“Yeah!” The husky holler tightened my nipples.

Darling pushed the door in and stepped back, motioning me past him.

The scent of evergreen and something warm and mouth-watering washed over me. I moved inside, every inch of my skin tingling.

Framed pictures of nude women, in chains and gagged, tied up and panting, lined the walls, snaring my gaze and instantaneously dampening my panties. My lips parted before I could stop them sucking in a gasp. I’d seen my fair share of porn and naughty images since lighting out on my own, but none of them had turned me on in the way the stark black-and-white images on the office walls did.

Perhaps it was the combination of the scent flooding my nose along with the images, but desire to be one of those women swept over me, and I bit my lower lip against the rush of warmth between my thighs.

“Who are you?”

A shiver slid over my skin as the sexy, raspy voice caressed my ears. I turned my focus on the brown-haired man behind the desk, and my heart seized, robbing me of breath.

Caramel-colored eyes squinted from a clean-shaven face with the most alluring lips I’d ever set eyes on, perfectly bowed on top and plump on bottom. I wanted to lick across his mouth, see if he tasted like I’d always expected my first kiss would.

He stood, and my gaze stalled on the tight, black T-shirt hugging every ripple of his upper body. My mouth flooded with drool, and I swallowed. Sinfully sexy. Hottest man on the planet. Temptation in the form of an apple like Satan must have offered Eve, and oh, how I wanted a bite.

Loved by the Elite Commander by Jessica Coulter Smith #scifi #aliens #alienencounters #SFR #eroticromance @changelingpress

 

She’s the only hope for my people, our salvation.
I never thought I’d fall in love with her.

elitecommanderfinal

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Futuristic, Sci-fi,
Alien Encounters, Alternate Universe, Single Parent/Pregnancy Romance

 

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My people are dying out, and if my generation doesn’t find compatible mates soon then my people will become extinct. When I hear of a race called Humans who are capable of breeding with Elorian males, I know we must find some and convince them to mate with single males on Elora.

Their home planet is too far from my own, but a ship of slaves crash-landed on X-2 five hundred years ago and many were of the Human race. It’s there I know I’ll find the females who will save my kind.

It never occurred to me that I would be the first to claim a mate, or that she would have been so horribly abused. Despite her horrific past, my sweet Marcy gives me a chance, and now that she’s mine I will do anything in my power to protect her.

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Jessica Coulter Smith

The sun on the unforgiving planet beat down, making it hard to breathe. My parents were long gone, and there was no one left to protect me.

The colony I called home was a lawless place where men dominated and females were no better than slaves. I knew our history, had heard of my ancestors and how they’d been captured on another world, taken into slavery. Then the ship had crash-landed here, and the survivors had created a new home.

The alien slavers had died, but the slaves had all lived. Mostly Human, though there were a few other races that seemed peaceful most of the time. The others kept to themselves and didn’t interfere.

My mother had told me stories about Earth, the world our people had come from, and how wonderful it had been. The stories had been passed from her mother, and so on all the way back to the original Humans who had landed on X-2. There had been something called television and movies, music, and tall glass buildings that reached up into the sky.
She’d said that women had the same rights as men on our home planet, and were given a voice even when selecting leaders. It seemed a bit strange to me, not having known any of those things, but it was nice to think there was a place like that out there somewhere.

Our current home was a nightmare. The red dirt coated everything, and the sun stayed bright and hot for all but a few hours out of each day. Unlike the Earth my mother had spoken of, women here had no rights of any kind. Whatever a man told us to do, we had to comply immediately or face the consequences. Some of my friends had learned the hard way exactly what that meant, and bile rose in my throat as I thought about it. Each punishment was made public to make an example of the woman who had dared to disobey. It didn’t matter if a man asked you to fetch him food, or strip off your clothes. We weren’t allowed to say no to anything.

I’d heard of females running and hiding. I didn’t know how true that was, or if they were even still alive if they had managed such a feat. The only shelters I knew of were the crude homes and buildings of our small village. Sometimes I wished there was a place I could hide as well. Men didn’t take wives, like my mother had said happened on Earth, and those who did choose a female to bear their children didn’t remain faithful to them. Women were cattle to be used as the men saw fit. Breeders, or a thing to play with.

I felt Bruce’s hand slide up my arm as he crowded me. Revulsion filled me, but I knew better than to pull away. I’d been his favorite for a while. Not his ‘only’, by any means, but his favorite. I’d have gladly given that honor up to someone else. The brute never cared if he hurt me, and I sometimes felt like he got off on making me scream. My body still wore the bruises he’d left the last time he’d forced my submission.

Better me than some of the others, though. In this lawless society men didn’t temper their needs for any reason, which meant even the teen girls were fair game. My mother had assured me on our home world something like that would have been cause for punishment, that men could be imprisoned for the things they did here. I often wondered if what she said was true, or merely a story to give me hope that life could be better.
There were times I wished both the aliens and slaves on the crashed ship had died that day rather than live like this another moment. Bruce’s hand tightened on me and he turned me to face him.

“You’re going to serve drinks to me and my friends tonight, Marcy. And you’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you?” he asked.

Like I had much of a choice. I nodded and refused to meet his gaze.

“Good.” His hand petted me some more. “After our card game, we’ll all have some fun.”

Oh, God! Anything but that! I knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t uncommon for Bruce to have game nights, and after they were well and truly drunk, they’d take turns with whatever woman had been serving them that night.

I tried not to tremble or give away my fear and disgust. By some miracle, I’d never gotten pregnant, but sooner or later that luck would run out. I’d either give birth to a daughter who would face the same fate as me, or a son who would become a monster. I couldn’t stand the thought of either scenario.

“Go brush out your hair and come to my place. Don’t be late,” he said.

Just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone. My body sagged and I couldn’t stop the tears that tracked my cheeks. I couldn’t do it! Not again. There was so much I’d endured since I’d turned sixteen and caught a man’s eye, but I knew I was slowly losing my mind. I should be grateful.

I’d been late in becoming a woman, my body not changing until much later than the others. Had I developed curves and begun my monthly bleeding at an earlier age, I doubted the men would have waited until I was sixteen. A few women in our small colony had already broken and taken their lives. I knew if I had to endure much more, I would follow in their steps. I refused to believe that my life was supposed to be like this.

I crept into the hall of the cracked and crumbling building we called home. As silently as I could, I managed to flee into the hot air outside. A breeze caressed me and gave me the courage to move forward.

Freedom! That’s what I tasted, what I smelled… No matter what happened, I wasn’t going back! I silently made my way through the winding path of crumbling buildings until I reached the outer wall. The guard at the gate had his head slumped, probably having had too much to drink.

I ran, my bare feet digging into the soil and broken bits of rock that served as a road to the other alien settlements. The original survivors had broken off into groups, and set up colonies on this small, dry planet. The trees beckoned, their brown and orange leaves crackling in the air, and I pushed myself, not daring to look back and only moving forward. I ran until my lungs burned and my legs ached. Pain pierced my side and I didn’t think I could go much further.

A few land vehicles had been salvaged from the crashed ship and still ran even all these years later. The Human colony had one, as did two other settlements. I heard one approaching and crouched, hoping to blend in with the scratchy branches and dead leaves lining the roadway. My heart pounded so loud I worried they could hear it.

A hand covered my mouth and I was jerked against a large, hard body.

“Quiet,” a male voice said in my ear. The accent was different from anything I remembered hearing before, and my body tensed, but I knew better than to fight. If anything, my life had taught me that to deny a male would only end in more pain and suffering.

The hovercraft drove past and the male holding me moved further back into the dead foliage. Once the sound of the patrol was gone, I was released. I stumbled, nearly falling to the ground, but the guy caught me, holding me against his broad chest. I stared at it a moment, then blinked and blinked again.

His broad gold chest. My panic rose again as I realized that none of the survivors on this world were gold.

I whimpered, but my upbringing in this hostile place had taught me not to fight. I hung limply in the stranger’s embrace and hoped that if he wanted to kill me, that it would be quick and painless. The fact I’d never seen anyone like him before made me tremble, and I worried about what would happen to me. When had a new race of aliens landed on X-2?

The sheer size of him was intimidating, as he towered over me and was rather broad. Not from fat, because his arms and chest appeared to be thickly muscled. His eyes seemed like liquid gold as I looked up at him. Long black hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, with a braid on either side of his face. His jaw was covered in a short beard and there was a scar along one cheek. Something flicked against my ankles and I looked down, gasping when I saw a long, slender tail. I’d never seen anything on two legs with one of those before. It was golden like him, with a puff of black at the tip. As I studied his face again, I realized there were three ridges across his brow that looked like some sort of hard plating.

“You’re safe now, female,” he said. “My name is J-Ril, and I mean you no harm.”