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

Credence (Wolf Pack 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

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

 

button_get-it-today (4)

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Gale Stanley

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Grey. Who else?”

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

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

Bleu felt his face heat. “I’m sorry.”

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Want to talk about it?”

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

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

 

More from Gale at Changeling Press…

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

Some things never change.

Website: http://galestanley.net

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

 

 

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.

 

button_get-it-today (2)

 

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

 

 

Future, Broken by Jacey Holbrand & Elizabeth Monvey #scifi #GayRomance #NewRelease @JaceyHolbrand @evernightpub

Future, Broken-banner2

 

Thank you for having us on your blog today! We’re so excited to share the release of the first book in our Project Mars series, Future, Broken. For a quick idea about the series, check out this trailer

 

 

A little more about the book

Book 1 – Future, Broken – Available July 10, 2019 – a Project Mars story – futuristic, sci-fi, romance series by best-selling authors Jacey Holbrand & Elizabeth Monvey

Genre: futuristic, sci-fi, Alternative (MM) MPREG Romance | Heat Level: 3 | Word Count: 66,125 | ISBN: 978-1-77339-998-0 | Editor: Karyn White | Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

~ * ~

BLURB

In the future, be careful who you trust.

Nathaniel Stockton and Grover Silas Ranger are faced with the ultimate test to their relationship when the Project Mars Lottery comes to town. Nate wins a chance to have his dreams come true: live and work on the red planet with his love. His husband Ranger doesn’t see the point of going from one bad place to another. But an evil organization called Sector has a completely different idea for the couple.

Kidnapped, experimented on, impregnated, and sent to Mars, Nate realizes too late he trusted the wrong people.

Ranger fights to find a way to Nate. Will he make it to his love before their dreams and lives are irrevocably broken by distance, a pregnancy, and the corrupt agency?

 

Broken_Teaser 4A

 

EXCERPT

The phone rang, dragging Nate from his thoughts.

“I’m gonna put it on screen,” Ranger called out from the kitchen.

“Sure.”

The wall flashed to life, and a dark-haired man with dark eyes, appeared. The stranger reminded Nate of the doctor at the lottery exams—lab coat, stethoscope, well-groomed—but this man was older and seemed to have an edge to him.

“Hey,” Nate greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“Am I speaking with Nathaniel Curtis Stockton?”

“Yeah.” Nate took a swig of his drink.

“Wonderful.” The man smiled but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “I am Doctor Rafael Trask. I am one of the lead scientists in a series of special clinical studies being performed. I understand you failed the medical section of the lottery exams?”

“Yeah.” The guy’s voice sounded cool … exact. Combined with the discord of his face, Nate sensed an air of danger surrounding the man. Creeped out, Nate was hesitant to say too much.

“Well, first off, let me say, we are not associated with the lottery. But should you participate in our studies you may have another chance at traveling to and settling on Mars. We also offer outstanding compensation. Despite whether you are or are not picked for travel, you will pretty much be set for life.”

Ranger strolled into the room and sat beside Nate, twirling the comm-wand between his fingers. “What are these studies?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“His husband,” Ranger answered. “Whatever he’s to be involved in, wherever he’s going, I’ll be at his side. What’s all this about?”

Doctor Trask leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. He looked down his nose at the camera on his comm device, appearing to contemplate what Ranger had said and giving Ranger a once-over. The doctor reminded Nate of a vulture.

“Okay,” Trask said. “Like I was about to mention to Mister Stockton, we are trying to find cures for people who did not pass the medical aspects of the lottery exams due to their diseases. We are also looking into the sterility epidemic and chromosomal changes in the female population.”

“Could you hold a moment?” Nate asked, grabbing the wand from Ranger and muting the call. He pointed the wand at the screen. “Do you think this is legit?”

“Yeah. It could be.”

“It might be the answer to our Mars problem.” Nate smiled, feeling a glimmer of warm hope spring up within him again.

“Perhaps. Should we see what’s what with it?”

Nate unmuted the call. “What if we say we’re interested?”

The doctor lifted a corner of his mouth. “I will digitize a package of information to you, and then we will be in touch with further instructions.”

“Well,” Ranger said, “count us interested.”

“Wonderful,” the doctor drawled.

~ * ~

BUY LINKS

Evernight Publishing ## Amazon: US ## Amazon: UK ## Barnes & Noble ## Kobo ## Smashwords

~ * ~

AUTHOR INFO

Jacey Holbrand logo

JACEY HOLBRAND believes life and love comes in all forms and should be celebrated. She’s committed to her muse and writing so she can share her stories with readers. Hot days. Sexy nights. Come play in her world. Jacey loves to hear from readers!

STALK JACEY HOLBRAND

Blog/Website ## Amazon Author Page ## Twitter ## YouTube

~ * ~

EM logo small

ELIZABETH MONVEY is the pseudonym for a single mother from Los Angeles. She writes manlove stories, where the hero meets the man of his dreams because happily ever after is one of her favorite things.

STALK ELIZABETH MONVEY

Amazon Author Page ## Evernight Author Page ## Facebook

 

 

 

Vasquez and James Vol. 1 by Lou Sylvre #ActionAdventure #GayRomance #NewRelease @Sylvre

Vasquez and James Vol. 1 (Vasquez and James 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

When badass meets artist, sparks and bullets fly. Blazing romance, chilling suspense, enduring love…

Loving Luki Vasquez: Renowned but reclusive weaver Sonny Bly James masters color, texture, and shape in his tapestries, but when he meets Luki Vasquez, an ex-ATF agent and all-around badass, his heart and desire spin out of control. The heat between them won’t be denied. United by danger, can Sonny and Luki put fear and anger aside, and fight together to save Sonny’s nephew and their own lives?

Delsyn’s Blues: Devastated by loss, Sonny James listens to a voice singing the blues from beyond the grave. Convinced he’s failed in an all-important life task, he tries to shut out Luki Vasquez and love just when he needs him the most. But when Luki finally breaks through Sonny’s fortress of grief, it’s just in time for the newly reunited couple to face a new, violent, escalating danger.

Finding Jackie: When Sonny James asked Luki Vasquez to marry him, Luki’s “yes” was accompanied by a request — a wedding in Hawaii. Months and many trials later, their hilltop island ceremony is poignant and funny, and every bit as beautiful as they’d hoped. The honeymoon is all sex, surfing, and sunshine… until Luki’s sixteen-year-old nephew is kidnapped by a sadistic killer. When it all comes to an ultimate showdown with evil, it’s not only love at stake, but their lives.

 

button_get-it-today (3)

 

EXCEPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lou Sylvre

Bright clothes, sunburns. Summer had arrived, and Port Clifton was awash in tourists. Since Juan de Fuca Boulevard constituted most of the town, they had nowhere else to go. They chattered and milled about, and Sonny Bly James wasn’t in the mood for chatter or milling because he was worried about his nephew, Delsyn, who always stayed gone for days, but who should have come home by now. Sonny quickened his long-legged strides and slid through the crush, trying to disturb the air as little as possible on the way to his truck.

Then he saw a man.

Which in itself wasn’t unusual, but this man, an islander, maybe Hawaiian, by the look of him, lounged cool and beautiful in loose summer whites, half-sitting on the fender of an ice-blue Mercedes, a strip of sand beach and the blue straits for a backdrop. Dark chestnut curls shining; straight, white teeth softly teasing a lush, plum-red bottom lip. His eyes, startling pale blue against brown skin, roved all over Sonny; the islander made no effort to pretend otherwise, and besides, Sonny could feel them. Their touch trickled over him like ice water, exciting every nerve he had, even those he’d never heard from before.

Which scared Sonny, a recluse by choice — and, he knew, because he’d always managed to be socially… well, clumsy. So, he turned to the weapon that had been his first line of defense since adolescence, when all the reservation had noticed that their star young grass dancer didn’t mind being gay: a smart mouth.

“What are you looking at?”

Even though the islander had responded by looking away, Sonny knew he hadn’t — couldn’t have — intimidated him. The stranger might have been a few inches shorter than him, but judging by his physique, and despite his laid-back manner, Sonny guessed the man could have dropped him with a cold look and a slap. It would have been less of a blow if he had. Instead, he freed his lower lip from his teeth and spoke.

“I beg your pardon.”

Sonny wanted to let a whole raft of words spill out, starting with “I didn’t mean it,” and ending with “so kiss me, now.” But the man’s attention had turned away. A baby in a stroller dropped a floppy brown bear at his feet. The young mother looked frazzled, at her wit’s end, carrying another child and trying to keep a third from making a dash down the boulevard. The islander squatted down — a graceful move — and picked up the bear. Right before Sonny’s eyes, his icy exterior melted, and though he didn’t smile and couldn’t pass for cheerful, he somehow seemed kind. He handed the stuffed creature back to the baby, who seemed to like him. She expressed her gratitude by spouting a number of syllables that all sounded a lot like “da.”

Sonny, angry with himself for blowing his chance to meet this chill but beautiful stranger — who might be trying to hide a kind heart — pretended he hadn’t seen. He turned his faux-stoic shoulder and walked away. A little shaky, perhaps; already sorry. Three strides and he heard a voice, unexpectedly scratchy, even hoarse.

“Hey.”

Sonny turned.

The man took a deep, lovely breath, flashed his cold-fire eyes at Sonny, and said, “I have coffee most mornings at Margie’s. In case you’re interested.”

* * *

Margie’s it was, then, the very next day. Sonny had weighed the wisdom of that, thinking it might be better if he didn’t seem so anxious.

But hell, he thought, I am anxious. Nothing about me is un-anxious.

He took the truck — which his Uncle Melvern had left him when he died a year ago and which functioned as a good luck charm. After he pulled over to the curb a half-block from Margie’s, he forced the clutch to cooperate, wrestled the column shift into first, and shut the engine down. Sort of. It kicked and spluttered, backfired, and groaned to death. He really, really hoped that the man he had come to meet had not heard that. He wanted to make a good impression. He crashed his shoulder into the door to get out, slammed the door twice to shut it, then paused to look in the side-view mirror. Some other person spoke out of his mouth — or at least that’s how it felt.

“Sonny,” it said, “here’s your chance. Don’t blow it.”

Great. A confidence builder.

The wooden sign attached over the arched brick entry said “Margie’s Cup O’ Gold,” but nobody ever called the cafe anything but just plain Margie’s. The elegant door — leaded glass set in oak panels — had been pushed open and held there with a shoe. All that stood between Sonny and whatever fate awaited him inside was a wooden screen door, the old-fashioned kind; it might have been there since the block was built in the 1890’s. He crossed the threshold wearing a smile for Margie, then reached back just in time to stop the screen from slamming behind him. “Hey, Marge,” he said, maybe not quite as loud as usual. He glanced around lazily, as if he weren’t looking for the man he’d come to think of as “the islander.” He didn’t see him. He let out a long breath that he must have been holding, wondering if he felt disappointed or relieved. He walked, casually he hoped, across the expanse of black and white parquet floor.

“Well,” Margie said, hand on hip and scolding in ringing tones. “Hello, Sonny. You’re here awfully early.”

“Margie, usually people don’t give other people a hard time for being early.”

“Shush, Sonny Bly. What do you want? Never mind, I already know. You and your fancy coffees. What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned cuppa, eh? Now that young man that came in a little earlier — real nice-looking fella; I think you’d like him — now he just ordered coffee, black and sweet. There’s a man that knows what he likes, I say.”

She’d nearly finished making the latte by the time she stopped. That was one thing about a conversation with Margie. Sonny never worried about what to say, because he was pretty sure he’d never get a chance to say it. But this time she had him a little dumbfounded. She’d said, “that nice fella,” with a sly glance out of the corner of her eye. Sonny figured she was on to him, but he couldn’t decide whether that was good or bad.

She cleared up those muddy waters as soon as she handed over his latte. “He’s around the corner, dear. The last table. Don’t worry, you look fine.”

Which left Sonny absolutely certain he should have worried more about how he looked.

There he was, the islander. Same skin, same lips, eyes, even hair. Of course. But the rest of him was dressed in a posh business suit, a light gray summer fabric so finely tailored that he might have been born in it. “So why the getup?” Sonny asked.

“Ah,” the stranger remarked. “A way with words.”

He didn’t have to say that. Sonny was already giving his forehead a mental smack. He stared at his coffee for what seemed like, maybe, a hundred and twenty-four years. He’d all but decided to bid an embarrassed farewell and beat a retreat, when the islander spoke.

“I have to go to work in a while,” he said. When Sonny looked up he added, “That’s why the getup.” No smile went with the words, but his eyes danced, like they were laughing — or maybe teasing. He reached halfway across the tile-topped table, holding out his long-fingered, manicured hand.

Sonny stared at it.

The islander said, “I thought maybe introductions would be a good place to start. I’m Luki. Luki Vasquez.”

Embarrassed again, Sonny blushed, which — he knew from experience — made his off-brown skin look purple. But in an act of sheer bravery, he put his own dye-stained and calloused hand out and took hold of Luki’s. Somehow, what felt like gibberish came out sounding like his name. “Sonny James.”

Luki leaned back when the handshake was done, draped his left arm casually over the back of the chair… revealing a bit of leather strap that might be part of a shoulder holster and something sort of gun-shaped half hidden under his jacket.

“Is that what I think it is?”

 

 

Outcast Son by Emily Carrington #GayRomance #LGBT #interraciallove #shifters #IR #NewRelease @CarringtonEmily

Outcast Son (Wolf Schooled 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Cast out of his pack for being psychic, Seiji seeks a home. Though he thinks of himself as lesser and doesn’t believe anyone could ever want him, he still yearns for love.

Nicholas sees all of Seiji’s potential, but he finds it difficult to be attracted to someone who’s so lost. Will Nicholas’ capacity for loving kindness help Seiji find himself and what his heart desires most?

 

button_get-it-today (2)

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

Nicholas was a grunt at the campus’s main library. He did all the deliveries to departments, like trundling the projectors or VCRs around. Some of the newer rooms had LCD screens, but not everything had been upgraded. According to the head librarian, Mrs. Smythe-David, funding was being spent on more important things. Like books.

“It’s always preferable to use things until they’re no longer of use. And many of our volumes have been read to rags.”

Nicholas tended to think that access to good technology was just as important as written knowledge, but he didn’t dare argue with his boss. Being a grunt meant he could be fired out of hand if he roused any of his coworkers’ ire.

Today, his mind was taken up with thoughts outside of work as he shelved tomes on this or that. He was thinking about Seiji. Even if the black haired werewolf with the Japanese features didn’t remember him, Nicholas had watched him all semester. Not because Seiji was particularly outspoken in class, but because he was attractive. In a scruffy, clothes-too-big sort of way. His brown eyes were soulful and his small mouth was beautiful when he smiled.

Nicholas had slept with over half of the gay or bisexual males in his year. It was time to expand his circle. And maybe Seiji wasn’t gay, or bi, but there was no harm in asking.

The best thing that ever happened to our world, he thought as he shelved Magical Flora and Where to Find it, 23rd Edition, was Tilthos Charles taking over as alpha above all alphas. LGBTQ and psychic wolves are equals with straight wolves now, and having sex with someone doesn’t automatically mean you have to marry them.

Of course, there were still those traditionalists who discriminated against LGBTQ wolves, and even more who still thought having fun in the bedroom should lead directly to mating for straight and nonstraight wolves alike, but Alpha Tilthos Charles was slowly changing attitudes.

His shelving done for awhile, Nicholas headed back toward the front desk. Doubtless someone would have something for him to do. He only hoped it wasn’t cataloguing. That was boring, dusty work.

He passed one of the study carrels, glanced over… and stopped. Seiji was sitting there, poring over an open textbook. He kept rubbing at his forehead and there was a deep frown on his face.

“Do you work with flash cards?” Nicholas asked, thinking of a particularly arousing way to use the standard study tool.

Seiji jumped. He said something in another language that sounded like a curse because of the inflection he gave it. “You scared me,” he said. Then: “I know. I know. Trackers are supposed to be ready all the time.”

Nicholas blinked. “You want to be a tracker?”

Seiji flushed. “Yeah,” he muttered.

Nicholas whistled. “That’s aiming pretty high.”

Seiji said defensively, “It’s what I want to be.” He glanced at Nicholas and seemed to rein in his ill mood. “What about you?”

“A negotiator for Werewolf Watch. Why do you want to be a tracker?”

Seiji shrugged. “What did you ask about flashcards?”

So. He can be circumspect about some things. “I was wondering if you use them.”

“No.”

Nicholas’s cock seemed to leap to attention. He repressed a grin by reminding himself that Seiji might not even be gay. “I’ll make you some if I get a chance. If not, we can start with that tomorrow. It’ll be helpful,” he added when he saw Seiji’s doubtful expression.

“I can’t remember anything even after I’ve just read it,” Seiji said morosely.

“That’s because you haven’t turned it into a game yet.” Nicholas winked. “We’ll meet in my room, like we discussed. Ten still okay with you?”

Seiji nodded.

“And if you’ll take one more piece of advice, lay off the book reading for now. All it’s going to do is frustrate you.”

Seiji hesitated. Then he closed the book slowly. “I guess I could give it a rest for a little while. Do you want me to make the flashcards?”

“Nope,” Nicholas said as he came to a decision. “We’ll do it tomorrow after I quiz you.”

Seiji winced. “Why?”

“Why am I going to test your knowledge? So I know where you need help.”

Seiji sighed and began packing up his text and notes. “I don’t know anything.”

Nicholas crossed to him and touched his shoulder. “One thing you can work on tonight,” he said softly.

Seiji looked up hopefully.

“Try some positive self-talk.”

“Huh?”

“Stop calling yourself a failure in the back of your head.”

Seiji looked startled. “It’s that obvious?”

Nicholas nodded. Then he leaned close and kissed Seiji’s cheek. It was a bold move, especially with his lack of knowledge, but he couldn’t help himself. The shorter wolf looked so lost and vulnerable. “Do yourself some good. I can see you’re going to worry all night long. Take a run.”

“Around campus?” Seiji sounded like that didn’t seem too exciting.

“How about just around the track?” Which was the only place, except the perimeter, where magical creatures were allowed to run in their true form. “Shift to your wolf and go for broke. See how fast you can go, and for how long.” He kissed Seiji again because the other wolf hadn’t pulled away. “I expect a full report in the morning.”

 

 

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.

 

button_get-it-today (1)

 

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.

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.

button_get-it-today (1)

get it in paperback

 

 

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.