Tactical Difficulties by Emily Carrington #ActionAdventure #UrbanFantasy #PNR #LGBTQ #interracial #shifters

Tactical Difficulties (Lady Troubles 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Work and pregnancy are driving Sonya crazy. Her mate’s concern about her well-being isn’t helping because that concern takes the form of overprotectiveness. But when Sonya is kidnapped, she finds strength in herself and her mating bond that she never knew existed.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

Maxine stared at her mate. Sonya was lovely, of course, with her cocoa dark skin and cap of short, kinky, beautifully natural hair. Her skin was two or three shades lighter than Maxine’s and her eyes were a breathtaking honey brown. She was even more attractive today because her gaze shone out with triumph.

But how could she feel that way? The LGBTQ psychic werewolves were being discriminated against. Just like always. And this time, it was their own leader who was doing it. And Sonya might be human, not a werewolf like Maxine, but didn’t she understand the plight of her pack family? Her eros, meaning LGBTQ, pack family?

“Tilthos Charles is giving the basilisks permission to overlook us,” she said slowly and rather more loudly than she meant to. “Sonya, don’t you understand that? He’s saying, ‘sure, ignore and belittle a subsection of my people. That’s just fine.’ And you’re sitting there… smiling!”

Sonya’s grin became a smirk. “It sounds like you’re gainsaying the alpha above all alphas.”

Maxine started to speak. “Okay,” she said carefully, “that is what it sounded like. But he’s not here to listen in and…” She shook her head, her braids thumping gently against her shoulders. “What I really don’t get is why you’re happy about it.”

“Because, quite frankly, my dear, it won’t last. The basilisks want to shoot themselves in the foot by not including the most willing participants in their little genetic experiment? When all the packs in North America were polled, it was the eros packs who responded most positively to giving their DNA. All werewolves should respond favorably because learning about basilisk reproduction could conceivably help werewolves carry pups more easily. But if the straight wolves are reluctant because of tradition or secrets or secret traditions? And if the basilisks only want straight DNA?” She laughed. “Let them fuck themselves over.”

Now Maxine saw the joke and she chuckled. Then she asked her beloved, “Will you make love to me?”

Sonya’s eyes widened playfully and her humor was replaced with a devilish look. “How fast can you get undressed?”

It actually took a few minutes because as Maxine removed each article of clothing, shoes and socks, jeans shorts, bikini panties, and skintight T-shirt, Sonya wanted to stroke the newly exposed skin.

Maxine paused dramatically before taking off her bra and fake boobs. Maxine was a transgender wolf, a male to female that would have been called a transwoman if she’d been human. She thought of herself as female, even at the times when her cock ruled her head, because she was not a guy no matter how she’d been born. She’d figured out her transgender self when her name was Maximillian and that little kid had been seven. This had been a good century before the word “transgender” was even in use.

They were at a pause, with Maxine’s fake boobs on the nightstand. Maxine tried to push past the memories, but Sonya had already seen something was up. She’d stopped her striptease and was patting the bed next to her, inviting Maxine to sit.

Feeling foolish, she sat. “I’m sorry. I just… drifted.”

“Tell me?” Sonya offered softly. And she took Maxine’s hands.

Maxine looked down at the beauty of their two skin tones. It was sort of like looking at a wood carving. Somehow majestic even as it was soothing. Also, this time with Sonya was undeniably theirs, something no one could take away.

“I don’t want to waste –” she began.

“Hush. Time with you is never wasted.”

Maxine eased beneath that gentle murmur. “I don’t usually give a shit about my penis and balls,” she said. “And I don’t really now, except that they made you pregnant.”

Sonya waited.

That was one of the things Maxine loved about her. Leaning forward, she kissed her mate, slipping her tongue into Sonya’s warm and welcoming mouth. When she had the strength to go on, she sat back. “I don’t regret our coming pups. Never think it. But I’m feeling sort of guilty for the sperm that took over your body.”

Sonya grinned but she sounded absolutely serious when she said, “I love you for saying so, Maxine. You’re such a woman when you say things like that.” She did laugh then. “And here I thought I wasn’t a lesbian.” She rested a hand on Maxine’s thigh and then ran one finger up the half erect shaft between Maxine’s legs.

Maxine shuddered with pleasure.

“I’m so lucky to have a trans wolf with a female’s heart, a male’s parts, and a warrior’s spirit in my bed. Don’t regret what I’m glad happened.” She colored a little, and then she stood. “Now, will you let me finish stripping for my mate? She’s made me wet and I want to lose my underwear.”

 

More from Emily at Changeling Press …

 

Wire (Dixie Reapers MC) by Harley Wylde #MCromance #bikerbooks #Bikers #NewAdult #RomanceBooks #NewRelease @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

HW_DixieReapers13_bryan

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Lavender: My parents weren’t the type to win any awards, but I did learn a few things. Like how to read lines of code and get through the backdoor of pretty much any site or program. I also learned about the man my mother had dated when she’d met my dad, someone who has intrigued me for years. I never thought I’d get the chance to meet him, until my parents end up dead and I can’t think of anyone else who might be able to help. I know too much, know my parents’ deaths weren’t an accident, and now I’ve been targeted. If the infamous Voodoo Tracer can’t help me, then I’m screwed.

Reality is so much better than fantasy, and with one look, I know the reason I haven’t dated is because I was waiting. For him.

Wire: I never really expected my past to come knocking at the front gates, nor did I expect it to be in such a sexy package. Lavender isn’t what I’d call a siren, but with her glasses perched on her nose, her messy hair, curvy figure, and adorable tees, she’s exactly what I want and don’t need. A nerdy, geeky, superintelligent woman who craves me as much as I crave her. So I did what any man would do… I claimed her. Now she’s mine, and if an enemy from my past thinks he can hurt her, I’d like to see him try. He might have killed her parents, but I will destroy anyone who tries to take her from me.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

Lavender

The infamous hacker, or more accurately cracker, Voodoo Tracer, hadn’t been all that hard to find. My mother had always said if anything happened to her I should track down the guy she’d dated before marrying my dad. I’d heard the story a million times, about how they’d all been friends but she’d fallen for Dad and hurt the guy she’d been dating. He’d left and never returned. Mom had lost track of him, but it hadn’t take much digging for me to find his current location, which told me he wasn’t really hiding. A guy like him didn’t leave a door open unless he wanted someone to use it.

While my mom and dad were hackers and worked for a lot of companies, trying to find the weak spots in their security so the companies could improve them, men like Voodoo Tracer took advantage of those weak spots to get whatever information they wanted. Mom had never approved of Voodoo’s need to crack government and banking sites. From what she’d said, back then, he never took anything vital. He’d mostly done it because he could. I couldn’t say for certain what he’d been up to lately.

I didn’t really walk either path, but tended to dabble a bit in both. Like the infamous Voodoo, I mostly liked to see how far I could get somewhere I shouldn’t be. If I were as nice as my mom and dad, I’d then turn that information over to the companies so they could keep other people out. Then again, they weren’t exactly paying me for my help, so why give it? I wasn’t an angel by any means, but I wasn’t precisely a devil either. I operated in those murky shades of gray.

I’d known how easy it would be for some to trace my phone, or the built-in GPS on my car, so I’d left both behind. The bus hadn’t been the most comfortable option to ride to Alabama, and I’d paid cash so there wouldn’t be a credit card trail, but now that I was here, I had to wonder if I’d made a huge mistake. The walk to the Dixie Reapers compound wasn’t that far, but the place seemed a bit imposing as I approached the gates. I’d walked what felt like miles of fenceline, although that was surely not the case. Razor wire topped it, and I had to wonder just what they were trying to keep out. Or was it more what they wanted to keep in?

The guy standing guard didn’t seem much older than me, and I noticed the way he scanned me from head to toe. I probably wasn’t the type of woman who typically came to this sort of place. My Converse were well-worn, my jeans ripped along my thighs and knees, and I had on my favorite Dark Crystal T-shirt, which had faded over time. I hadn’t thought much about my appearance and had tossed my hair up in a messy bun. With my thick-lensed glasses perched on my nose, I probably looked like I should be in school right now. If it weren’t for my curves, I’d never pass for my real age.

“You must be lost,” the man said, then pointed back behind me. “Town is back that way.”

“I’m not lost.” I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder. “I’m here to see Voodoo Tracer.”

The man stared and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “No one here by that name. So I think you really are lost.”

My brow furrowed. I’d assumed his club would know him by that name. From what little research I’d managed before taking this trip, I’d learned that some clubs preferred to use a road name and kept their real names private. If Voodoo followed that belief, this guy may not know his birth name. It was foolish to think whatever the club called him would be the same name he went by when he was cracking codes.

“Hang on. I have a picture, but it’s really old.” I slid the strap off my shoulder and dug in my backpack. I withdrew the picture of Voodoo with my mom, Seraph, and my dad, Doc Paradox. I’d stared at this picture a lot over the years. I’d found it shoved into a box in the top of Mom’s closet a while back. The ginger-haired young man had drawn my attention. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen or seventeen at the time it was taken, but even back then he’d been more than just cute. I knew he’d be my parents’ age now, but I’d often wished I could meet a guy like him.

Showing the picture to the guy, his eyes went wide.

“Holy shit, is that Wire?” he asked.

“Um. Maybe. I don’t know his club name. I only know his hacker name.”

The man nodded. “That would be Wire, then. I’ll have to call him down here. I’m not letting you in uninvited. You don’t exactly look like the type to party at the clubhouse.”

If that was code for sleep with random men, then no, I wasn’t. Not even a little. I took a step back as he made his call and took the time to check out the place behind the fence. There was a building with Dixie Reapers across the top in neon letters, and a lot of houses down either side of the road. As I strained to get a better look, I thought I saw a playground, but that was ridiculous. What type of biker compound had a playground? The fatigue must be getting to me. It seemed I was now hallucinating.

“He asked who else is in the picture,” the guy said.

“Tell him Seraph and Doc Paradox.” I swallowed hard. “They were my parents.”

He relayed the information, and I hoped that Wire would come and hear me out. If things had really ended as badly as my mom had said, then he might refuse to see me. She’d not gone into a lot of detail, just said she’d picked my dad over Voodoo. Knowing my mother, there was a good chance she’d omitted part of the story. Coming here was a gamble I’d been willing to take. Whatever Mom and Dad had been into, it had gotten them killed. Thanks to me nosing around, I now worried that I might meet the same fate. I didn’t know anything about the man Wire was now, but the kid who had grown up with my parents had been the type to help those in need, even if he hadn’t done it the legal way. I was counting on that still being true.

The rumble of a motorcycle started out faint and then got louder. I saw a rider with copper-colored hair approaching from down the road and as he came to a stop on the other side of the gate, my heart flipped, flopped, then took off at a gallop. Holy hell! Mom had thrown over this guy for my dad? What the hell had she been thinking? He didn’t even remotely look like a hacker. Nor was he the gangly teen from the photo I’d brought. Yeah, he’d been handsome back then, but now? Shit. I was almost certain my panties were getting wet just looking at him. His heather gray tee stretched tight across his broad chest, and the leather cut just added to the sex appeal. The denim hugging his thighs was as worn as mine, with a few well-placed holes, and did nothing to hide how muscular he was, especially for a geeky computer nerd.

Definitely nothing like my dad. I’d loved my father, but time hadn’t been kind to him. He’d had lines around his eyes, and what my mother fondly called his spare tired around the middle, from long days and nights at the computer. This guy didn’t have that problem. Hell, he didn’t even look my parents’ age.

Wire swung a leg over his bike and came closer, removing the sunglasses that had shielded his eyes from me. Green, and so damn pretty. It was a sin for a man to have eyelashes that long and thick. Dammit. My nipples were getting stiff. I swallowed hard, wondering why my body was betraying me. I’d never had a physical response to a guy, even when I thought they were hot. Until now. The beard covering his jaw made my fingers itch to reach out and touch it. Would it be coarse or soft? I’d always had a weak spot for gingers, and he had to be the sexiest one I’d ever seen.

 

Find more from Harley at Changeling Press …

Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

Harley’s Website: https://harleywylde.com/

 

Big, Blooming, & Wild by Isabella Jordan, Michelle Hasker, and Tuesday Morrigan #BDSM #BBW #PNR #scifi #interraciallove #boxset #RomanceBooks

Big, Blooming & Wild! (Big, Blooming & Wild! Multi-Author 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

These trees have been waiting all their lives to find their women!

Suffering Sassafras by Michelle Hasker: When Gayle settles into her new home in the mountains in North Pennsylvania she meets two of the sexiest men she’s ever seen. These two have a sex appeal she can’t resist — until she stumbles upon them making love in their backyard.

Tied & Tempting by Tuesday Morrigan: Yahara does not do nature. As far as she is concerned, Central Park is all the green the world needs. Kauri does not like humans. They care nothing about the world that is their home. But he must mate. And with a human. Once he catches sight of the tall, dark-skinned full-figured woman that is Yahara, he decides humans aren’t so bad.

Two Fine for Pine by Isabella Jordan: Botans Charles and Christopher have found a wonderful home in Cana, Virginia. When Vanessa Arnault hits town, the twins know their woman has finally arrived — big, beautiful, and exotic. There’s just one problem. She has an idea for a signature line of puppy palaces and kitty condos for her affluent friends back in NY and Paris. Charles and Christopher must win her heart, and claim her as their mate, or risk being cut down and used to make a miniature Taj Mahal for her pet poodle Pierre.

Mulberrilicious by Michelle Hasker: Trisha lost her job due to the economy and her fiancé to a skinny chick. Now she’s moved to Missouri to be with her sister, where  she runs into the two handsome hunks who own a neighboring property. Both want her, and neither cares that she’s a BBW. What she doesn’t know is that they’re not what they seem to be. Oh, and they’re already lovers!

 

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Tex/Zipper Duet by Harley Wylde #MCromance #bikerbooks #interracial @HarleyW_Writer

Tex/Zipper Duet (Dixie Reapers MC Box Sets 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Tex (Dixie Reapers MC 6)

Tex: Fifteen years ago I signed away the rights to a child I’d never seen and joined the Army, putting my past, including the Dixie Reapers, firmly in my rearview. Now I’m back, and I’ll do anything in my power to save the daughter I’ve never met. I just didn’t count on rescuing two damsels. Kalani’s got trouble written all over her.

Kalani: Hillview Asylum looks presentable enough, but I know firsthand the horrors inside those walls. Now I’m faced with a man who makes me want things I shouldn’t, but Tex keeps the nightmares at bay. For the first time in my life, I feel safe. Protected. But now I want more… I want to be loved.

Zipper (Dixie Reapers MC 7)

Delphine: Six years ago, I chased away the guy I’ve been in lust with ever since my hormones kicked in. Now I need help, and there’s nowhere to go except straight to the Dixie Reapers. If Zipper won’t help me, I’m as good as dead. Is it wrong that I hope I end up in his bed? I’ve never stopped wanting him, and I know I never will.

Zipper: The girl who had turned my life upside down wants my help. Now she says I can have anything I want. Naughty girl. Didn’t anyone ever tell her not to tempt the devil? As for the men trying to kill her, it’s only a matter of time before they breathe their last. No one hurts my woman.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde
Excerpt from Tex

“You coming in or are you gonna stare all night?” the Prospect asked, tossing the cigarette away.

I approached the gate and held up my cut when I got there. His eyebrows lifted as he looked at the Dixie Reapers patch on the black leather, then his gaze took in my Army-issued duffle and the dog tags hanging around my neck. Something entered his eyes, like understanding, then he slid the gate open and let me inside.

“My name’s Johnny. Welcome home, soldier.”

I smiled a little. “Thanks. Torch inside?”

“Nah. He’s at home with his wife and kid. Same for the VP.”

Torch and Venom were married with kids? Hell, I’d never seen that one coming. It made me wonder what else had changed around here. I guess I hadn’t given it much thought, almost like my past had just stayed frozen in time while I’d been off being a soldier. My thoughts must have been showing on my face. The Prospect smirked and shook his head.

“If you can’t believe that, then you definitely won’t believe that Bull and Preacher have old ladies now too. And Ryker Storme claimed Flicker’s sister. Even though his daddy is the Pres of Hades Abyss, he’s stuck around so Laken can be near Flicker.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is in the water around here, but I think I’ll stick with beer. No way I’m letting some woman into my life like that,” I said, shifting the weight of my bag.

“Now that you’ve said that, you’ve just doomed yourself.” Johnny smiled. “I bet you’re leg-shackled before the end of the month.”

I snorted. Yeah, not fucking likely. With a salute, I headed toward the clubhouse. Better to get this shit out of the way. I had no idea who was inside, or if I’d know anyone in there at all. As far as I knew, all my old club was still active, but I had no doubt a lot of new faces had joined over the last fifteen years. The kid at the gate couldn’t have been more than twenty. The club needed some young blood. The rest of us were getting too fucking old.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. A mug was slammed down on the bar top, and a moment later, I was engulfed in a hug from a man nearly twice my size.

“Jesus, Tank,” I wheezed. “Can’t fucking breathe, man.”

He slapped my back and pulled away, smiling broadly. “It’s fucking good to see you, Tex. Thought you’d never make it back.”

“Guess I got tired of following the rules.”

“Torch know you’re here?” he asked.

“Nope. Thought I’d surprise everyone.”

He motioned to the cut clutched in my hand. “Why aren’t you wearing that? You’re still one of us.”

“Doesn’t fit anymore.”

He took it from me and tossed it to the Prospect behind the bar. “See that a new one is ordered for Tex.” His gaze scanned over me again. “Better ask for an XXL. Fuck, man, you’re almost as big as me.”

“Yeah, right. No one’s as big as you, Tank.”

He grinned and slapped my back again, nearly knocking me off my feet. I didn’t know if I even still had a room here at the clubhouse, and I wasn’t sure how to go about asking. Yeah, these guys were considered my family, but I’d pretty much abandoned them fifteen years ago. It was a little presumptuous of me to just appear and expect everything to go back to normal. I’d hoped Torch would be around so we could talk.

“Why don’t we grab a beer and catch up?” Tank asked. “A lot of changes around here since you’ve been gone.”

“I heard Torch and Venom both have old ladies. And Bull? Shit. After what happened with his baby momma, I thought for sure he’d steer clear of relationships. That bitch was something else.”

Tank smirked. “It gets better. His new woman is younger than his daughter. Ridley gave him grief. And he now has a son, Foster. His kid is younger than his grandkids.”

“Shit, Ridley is married?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah. She’s with Venom.”

I spit out the swallow of beer I’d just taken. “Are you fucking kidding?”

He shook his head. “Bull wasn’t too happy about it at first, but he’s come around. Venom treats Ridley like a queen. They have two kids, both girls.”

“And Torch? The Prospect at the gate said he had a wife now.”

“Isabella. She’s like thirty years younger than him, but I’ve never seen two people meant for each other more than those two. They have a kid too.”

“Definitely not drinking the water around here,” I muttered as I swallowed more beer.

Tank chuckled. “Don’t blame you, man.”

“Got a lot of new members?” I asked.

“Since you left? Yeah. A lot of Prospects have come and gone over the years, but a few have patched in. Our newest is Coyote,” he said with a nod toward a table in the corner.

The guy looked to be near my age, and he wasn’t lacking for female attention. My dick didn’t even stir as I looked at the mostly naked club sluts draped over Coyote. It had been so fucking long since I’d been laid, I wasn’t sure my cock even worked right anymore. When I was younger, I’d had a different woman every night. After joining the Army, the women hadn’t been quite as plentiful, or more aptly put, my days hadn’t been quite as free. Over the years, I’d soured toward females, not trusting them. Getting my dick wet hadn’t been worth a possible STD or being trapped by some conniving bitch who got pregnant on purpose. So I’d abstained. Now I never even felt the urge anymore. I could probably walk onto the set of a porno and my dick wouldn’t so much as twitch.

Pathetic. That’s what I was. Thirty-five and my cock was fucking useless except to take a piss. Probably for the best. When it had been in good working order, I’d knocked up the girl I’d been seeing. Just hadn’t realized at the time that she was sixteen and had been using a fake ID. Had I known she wasn’t eighteen, I wouldn’t have fucking touched her. I’d miraculously gotten off without jail time and had entered the Army a few days later. I had no clue what happened to that girl or my kid. I’d thought of looking them up a few times over the years, but the girl’s parents had made me sign away my parental rights to my kid. Some days, I regretted doing that. Had she even kept the baby?

“What’s that look?” Tank asked.

“Taking a trip down memory lane. It wasn’t a happy memory.”

He nodded. “There’s someone you should meet. Come on.”

 

More from Harley at Changeling Press…

International Best Selling Author!

Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

Website: harleywylde.com

Twitter: @HarleyW_Writer

 

Troll’s Blog by Shelby Morgen #Futuristic #PNR #UrbanFantasy #BBW #interracial #NewRelease @changelingpress

Troll's Blog (Box Set) (Troll's Blog 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Renee George

 

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Welcome to Troll’s Blog.

So you want to know about Trolls. Well, the only thing I can tell you is about this Troll. I’m taller than most of you, stronger, faster, and I have wicked teeth. All perfectly straight, thanks to modern orthodontia, and very, very sharp.

If you’re a Troll, what better place to hang out than under a bridge, right? I mean really. What’s the use in being a Troll if you can’t catch a good laugh now and then? But if you’re a Cop, chances are you’re like genetically predisposed to mess with the Troll. Not a good move. Especially when the Troll has a thing for Cops. Especially tall, strong, hot bodied cops… Or at least one Cop in particular…

Oh. Sorry about the ads… we’re using a lot of bandwidth these days. Got to do something to stay on the grid.

Troll’s Blog includes: Troll Under the BridgeTroll in the ShadowsDen Mother, and Window Shopping.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Shelby Morgen

We’ve all heard the stories. The waves of mutations started with the Corporations screwing around with our genomes. We were all really hatched up in some Corp lab somewhere. Nothing natural about us at all.

Pretty farfetched, right?

Not really.

Oh, the Corps didn’t start this mess. Old Mother Nature did that herself. Geneticists call it Punctuated Equilibrium. We’re living proof that species don’t really evolve slowly over time. More like we run into an environmental brick wall and have to adapt or die out, so we adapt. Now. In like one generation. Which, while it scared the crap out of people for a while, is probably a good thing, because, like I said, bigger, faster, stronger… and smart enough to avoid the Corp scientists who wanted to play with our molecules.

By now you’re probably as bored as Mattie is, so let’s get to the good stuff.

My boys.

Five of ’em. Jinks, Felix, Tonk, Tony, and Sebastian. Long and lean and sleek as cats. Cause, well, they are cats. Not shapeshifters in the traditional sense. Gawd. Like there’s a tradition for shapeshifters. Anyway, Mattie called ’em Werecats. I’m not sure that’s the right term. They don’t shift from human to cat and back. They’re cats. They’re always cats. They shift from walking, talking, upright cats to… well, something you don’t wanna meet in a dark alley.

Come to think of it, you don’t wanna meet any of us in a dark alley.

Being as the world’s kinda falling apart at the moment, what with anarchy only one political fuck-up away, and what with me being a geneticist, as well as a Troll, you can see why the Corps thought I ought to come to work for them when I graduated. Berkeley thought I should stay there and teach. My mother thought I should find a nice young man and get married. Shrug. Moms.

I took the Corp job. Why? Not because I trust and admire their work, that’s for sure. No. I’d heard the rumors… we all had. I’m a curious sort. I wanted to know the truth about our genetics. Where better to go than the source to find out if the rumors were true?

Still, I was there, working with the best equipment in the world, in the most classified lab in the world, for almost a decade before I found the hidden lab.

I’d say the lab was in the basement, but the entire structure was subterranean. You know that old game they brought back for PS-X, Resident Evil 19 or something like that? With the underground labs and all the zombies? Well, I never found the zombies. That’s about the only thing I didn’t find, though.

I was having a hard week. Accidentally blew up the lab again, that sort of thing. But that’s nothing compared to the turn my life was about to take. Cause I just found the lower level. And these lab rats aren’t like any I’ve ever seen.

I got in pretty much by accident. Ran my security card through the access panel to the supply cabinet and entered my code wrong. I held down the last digit — a 9 — too long, and it repeated. I knew, in that same way you know the bacon’s going to burn before you get back to it, that I’d screwed up. Expected loud noises followed by security teams showing up.

Nothing.

So I entered my code again. Still the door didn’t budge. Instead the wall moved. I kid you not. This not-so-little piece of marble panel slid open, and the next thing you know I’m in an elevator I’ve never seen before. Going down. And for all the fact that this elevator only had two buttons, it was a mighty long trip down.

To… nothing. I thought at first it was the subterranean power plant. If you’ve played the game you’ll remember that one. Never did find that level. What I did find was a large room — easily the size of a basketball court — empty save for a few bits of shredded paper and a couple rows of cages along the far wall. Very large, empty cages. This much I got by the dim glow of the elevator light before the doors whooshed shut behind me, plunging me into total black.

Mind you, my night vision is extremely good. So I didn’t panic immediately. I waited.

Nothing but unrelieved darkness. Even night vision needs something. Moonlight. Starlight. Some native light source to amplify. There was none. Clearly time to go back up the elevator. Except that when I felt along the wall behind me, I couldn’t feel the elevator doors. Or their access panel. No doors, no seams, no little raised panel frame.

I sensed that now might be the right time to panic…

Except that panic rarely accomplishes anything. The doors hadn’t moved, and neither had I. So they were still there. What I needed now was a light switch. I began to feel my way along the wall. After all, I had a pretty good snapshot of the place in my head, at least the near end, and the elevator doors were in the middle of the wall. How lost could I get?

I already knew the cages were empty. Whatever had been down here, they’d moved everything out, right down to the paper shredder. I traced the wall to the far end, my hand trailing along about light switch height. If you think about it, they’re always in the same places. Probably some code for such things. I reached the corner without finding any interruption in the cold, smooth surface. A bit disappointed, I started to turn back.

You’re not Herman. Who are you? Excerpt from Troll’s Blog: Denmother

 

 

Saved by the Cyborg by Jessica Coulter Smith #cyborgs #aliens #scifi #RomanceBooks #NewRelease @changelingpress

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When the Zelranian parliament created the Cy-Con program, warriors were recruited and turned into cyborgs. But when they were asked to harm women and children, the cyborgs gave the parliament an ultimatum, and ended up exiled from their world. Having created a new home, everything is almost perfect on the new planet. Almost. They live in harmony, but they live alone.

What does a cyborg want most? A mate. 

 

While this is the 3rd installment in the Cy-Con series, each book can be read as a stand-alone story. They are enjoyed more if read in order, but it isn’t necessary.

 

Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Futuristic, Sci-fi, Interracial, Romance

 

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Intimidating. Damaged. Unlovable.
Tark wanted a mate even before he joined the Cy-Con program. His sheer size made females fear him, and now that he’s been turned into a cybernetic freak they avoid him even more. When he finds a female being held in a brothel against her will, he knows that he can’t leave without her.

Tark means to take Suki home to his world, a place where she can heal and start a new life. He never realized she’d want to start that life with him, or that she’d insist on leaving the safety of Xpashta in an effort to rescue others like herself.

Brave. Fearless. Pregnant?
Tark saved the alluring human female once. When she’s captured during a dangerous mission, he knows he’ll have to do it again, and this time, he’s not letting her out of his sight — especially when he finds out she’s pregnant with his child.

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Jessica Coulter Smith

Tark didn’t hesitate to leave the premises. He knew the med clinic would properly dispose of Yoko’s body. She hadn’t deserved a fate like this, no one did, but there was little he could do about it. Except find the Suki she mentioned.

Was Suki another female at the brothel? He retraced his steps through the trading post and stopped outside the brothel. Were all the females as badly cared for as Yoko had been? Were they all dying? He didn’t know if he could handle seeing a tent full of females without killing the slaver responsible for their care. Not when the males on his world would give anything to have them as mates, would treat them as if they were the most precious things in all the galaxies. It didn’t matter if they’d been whores. A cyborg would never look down on a female for any reason except treachery.

He pushed open the door covering and stepped inside. The slaver slithered his way, greed burning in his eyes as he scanned Tark. A Kronkite, he was reptilian in appearance and small in stature. Breakable, in Tark’s opinion. Before the creature could reach him, he scanned his surroundings. Several females of various races were servicing customers out in the open. None seemed to be in distress, and none were human. He checked the interior again, looking for a female similar to Yoko. The slaver moved closer and Tark eyed him, having no idea how he kept the slaves in line with such a weak appearance.

Then again… Tark looked around once more. The females who weren’t servicing customers were lounging on cots, most staring at the roof of the structure. The few whose eyes he could see had a blank stare, as if they weren’t present.

Drugged. It was the only explanation. Or perhaps so badly beaten that they had no fight left in them. Even those currently in service didn’t appear aware of their surroundings.

“I have females available. How many do you wish? A male of your size could easily handle two or three, I would think,” the slaver said.

“I want the female called Suki,” Tark said. “Human.”

The slaver got a gleam in his eye. “That one is special. One such as you would likely break her. Her services are reserved for those of a higher rank. Princes. Ministers. Kings.”

Tark took a step toward the slaver, then another, until he saw a flash of fear in the male’s eyes. The slaver backed up, and for every step he took, Tark took another. Soon, the disgusting male was pressed against a wall and had nowhere left to go. His skin camouflaged until he matched the color of the structure, but Tark could still see him clearly.

“I. Want. Suki,” Tark said.

The slaver waved a trembling hand toward the back of the porta-dome. Tark growled at him and the scent of piss filled the air as the slaver soiled himself. The cyborg smirked as he made his way to the back, scanning the females for a human.

In the corner, her knees drawn up to the chest, he finally found her. Her long, dark hair was matted and there were bruises on her arms and thighs, as if she’d been forcefully held down. Rage filled him at the sight and he turned to face the slaver again. The male had enough sense to put a lot of space between them.

“You want her? No charge. Use her all night,” the slaver said, his voice quivering. “You tell your friends that Porie is the best in the business and offers many beautiful females.”

“Mine,” Tark said, his voice deeper than before as he snarled at the slaver. “Mine to keep.”

The slaver narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Too valuable.”

“I said. She’s. Mine,” Tark growled.

The Kronkite flexed his fingers and claws popped out. They appeared harmless and he laughed at the creature, but it had only been a distraction. Energy bolts hit the center of his chest and he glared at the shiny weapon in the Kronkite’s hand. Tark advanced on him, receiving three more blasts, but the little reptile had miscalculated. Tark was no longer just Zelranian. He was cyborg, and the energy blasts only served to increase the power to the receptors in his brain.

Tark lashed out, his fist slamming into the Kronkite’s jaw. The creature flew half the distance of the dome and landed in a tangle of limbs. One foot was bent at an awkward angle, but Tark didn’t care. He advanced on the slaver, landing blow after blow, almost hoping he killed the nasty being.

The male began dragging himself backward, looking around as if seeking help, but none of his customers were paying him any attention. Panic blazed in his eyes as he moved even further away. The stench coming off him suggested he’d done more than just piss himself. Weakling.

“Whatever you wish,” the slaver said. “There are other females, if you’d prefer someone more exotic?”

“Her,” Tark said, pointing at Suki. “And only her. You will never touch her again, and neither will anyone else.”

Suki trembled as Tark lifted her into his arms. Her eyes were dark, filled with terror, and he wished that he could soothe her, but this wasn’t the place or the time. For whatever reason, she didn’t appear to be drugged like the others. He needed to get her far from here.

 

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Find more Jessica Coulter Smith titles at Changeling Press…

 

Award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith has been in love with the written word since she was a child writing her first stories in crayon. Today she’s a multi-published author of over seventy-five novellas and novels. Romance is an integral part of her world and she firmly believes that love will find you at the right time, even if Mr. Right is literally out of this world.

Find Jessica on Facebook / Twitter / Instagram / jessicacoultersmith.com.

 

Something Wicked by Dahlia Rose #DarkFantasy #PNR #DarkDesire #Interracial @changelingpress

Something Wicked (Dark Love 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Dark Fantasy, Dark Desire, Paranormal, Interracial, Second Editions

 

Humans are marks in Locke’s ledger, nothing more, until he encounters the one woman he can’t tempt, can’t coerce and can’t get out of his head.

Paris Fairchild lives from one paycheck to the next, yet Locke’s never seen anyone happier with their life. Being a demon, Locke could spirit her anywhere, give her anything, but she wants to earn what she gets on her own, no easy way out.

Instead of walking away, Locke finds himself charmed by the young woman and after stealing a kiss he knows he wants to see the world through her eyes. For the first time in an eternity he sees something besides darkness in his future. But there will be a price to pay for falling in love and breaking his contract with hell. When the hounds of hell are set loose, can he withstand the gathering storm to have a forever with Paris by his side?

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Dahlia Rose

He walked in the shadows of the building. The city was ripe with sin, and he was all set to pluck the wayward fruit. Locke was the name he’d been known by for so many years he’d lost count. He frowned as he thought back. Sometimes he forgot the person he had been before. He’d given up everything, or was it nothing? Locke couldn’t remember. He knew it had been his choice to become this thing, this monster who preyed on souls. He was the strongest. He would survive while the others would be crushed.

Sirens wailing, couples arguing and fucking, the aroma of food, and the heat of the day seeping up from the cement brought his attention back to the present. Voices yelled in different languages. He understood them all. A man was trying to sell a tourist a knock-off purse. He talked as though he had little English knowledge, but knew exactly what people were saying. Locke shook his head in amusement when the guy talked the woman out of fifty dollars for a purse he claimed was authentic.

As he walked past a cafe, he took three steps back to look in the window. A waitress wiped her hair away from her face as she bussed a table, stacking dirty dishes on a big tray. She frowned as she picked up her two-dollar tip. When he looked at the table, he saw she was clearly under compensated. Without a doubt, she was the one. Locke saw a new soul to be reaped, one who clearly wanted more from life. He stepped in the Cafe La Paz and sat at a table.

Another waitress came over with a big smile, an appreciative look in her eyes.

“What can I get ya, sweetheart? I do mean anything,” she said in a breathy voice. He could smell the stink of her last cigarette on her breath. Nasty habit.

He pointed at his quarry. “You can get me… her.”

The waitress frowned and her eyes flashed with irritation before she called out, “Paris, your table.”

“Be right there.” The dark-skinned beauty glanced at him casually. Walking to the kitchen, she put away her tray. On her way back, she pulled a pad out of her apron pocket. “Good evening. Welcome to Cafe La Paz. Have you had a chance to look over the menu?”

Locke assessed her. She was pretty in a simple way. Her ebony skin had a sheen from hard work giving her the look of a polished statue made of wood. Her dark brown eyes were wide and her lashes shone like soft waves when she blinked. Her lips were full and colored with lip gloss. She was wearing her hair in a simple ponytail with soft curls in the back.

“Sir?” she prodded gently. “Something to drink?”

“Espresso,” he said. “The other one who smells like cigarettes called you Paris.”

“Yes, that’s my name,” Paris replied.

“I am Locke.” He placed his hand over his chest and bowed.

“Okay, and are you ready to order?” she asked, dismissing the introduction.

“What do you suggest?” Locke asked, amused by her businesslike attitude.

“The spinach crepes with hollandaise sauce is my favorite.”

“Then I’ll have that.”

She moved efficiently to get his coffee, and when it was ready, his meal. She checked in on him as he ate. Paris kept her distance, unlike her co-worker, who kept staring at him. Locke ate as if he enjoyed the food, but in reality every meal tasted the same to him. He didn’t need to eat, but did sometimes to blend in. The only thing that filtered through to his taste buds was the bitterness of espresso. He admitted he loved the taste of the dark brew. Even one like him had vices.

“Anything else?” Paris asked.

“No, I’ve gotten what I came for.”

She gave him a curious look before ripping the receipt off her notepad and placing it on the table with a smile. He was finished his assessment. He reached into his empty pocket and the money he thought of appeared beneath his fingertips. He pulled it out and placed it on the table before standing and walking out the door.

Paris rushed after him a few seconds later. “Sir! Sir!”

He turned. “Locke.”

“Sir.” She didn’t use his name. “You left one hundred dollars for a meal that cost twenty. Don’t you want your change?”

“No, that’s your tip,” Locke replied.

“Why?” Paris asked.

He liked her bluntness. “Because I think you deserve that, and much more.”

“Uh-huh,” she said warily. “I’m giving you notice now, creeps who follow me home usually get a burst of Mace in the face. No one does anything in this town for nothing.”

“It’s just a tip,” Locke assured her. “Goodnight, Paris.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” Paris turned and headed back into the cafe.

He’d made the first move. From there he played the scenario out in his head. She was fierce in her distrust but he sensed the goodness in her like a beacon reaching out. She would make the bosses very happy indeed. A soul like hers fetched a pretty penny in the depths of hell.

More from Dahlia Rose at Changeling Press …