Cuckold’s for Christmas by Stephanie Burke #Christmas #holidayromance #newrelease #interraciallove

SB_Cuckhold_Graphic2

Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

After having her heart broken by a cheating ex, wealthy and disabled divorcee Emma-Jean Lawson twists her misfortune into an empowering statement… by opening up an all-male strip club named Cuckold’s. Now all she has to do is find her star dancer.

Noel Winters has a big wet problem. The once Principal Dancer for the Paris Ballet has turned to teaching his beloved dance to others after a career ending injury, but now a busted water heater, just in time for Christmas, has him seeking other means of income to keep his business afloat. An ad from Cuckold’s catches his attention. It can’t be that hard being an exotic dancer, can it?

When Emma and Noel meet, there’s an instant attraction, but is sex alone enough to hold a relationship steady? And where did the guys with guns come from? Suddenly their happily ever after is looking grim, but with two of the most magical allies helping along the way, maybe they will pull it together in time to have a happy holiday after all.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or pre-order at retailers for December 20th

   

 

For a NSFW SNEAK PEEK visit Changeling Press

 

MORE FROM STEPHANIE AT CHANGELING PRESS …

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

 

 

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.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

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 …

 

A Shot of J&B by Lou Sylvre #BDSM #GayRomance #interraciallove #NewRelease @Sylvre

A Shot of J&B (Vasquez Inc. 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

When Brian Harrison first met Jackie Vasquez at a Hawaiian wedding, Jackie was sixteen and troubled. Six years later they meet again; Brian’s career at Scotland Yard is budding with promise, while Jackie’s student days at the University of Nebraska are rolling toward a strong finish. Magnetic mutual attraction pulls them insistently toward one another, but the ocean separating their lives makes for a simmering romance.

When the waiting ends and they get together for a weekend in Denver, Dom Brian and sub Jackie both know they’ve tapped into something scalding hot, and much deeper than sharing an artful session. Shibari, lust, and love are all on the agenda — but for Brian, so is his police career, and a strange series of crimes seems poised to threaten their romance — and maybe their lives.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or pre-order for November 1st at retailers

   

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lou Sylvre

Port Clifton’s shops yielded gifts for Brian’s hosts: a huge bouquet of red and white lilies accented with ferns, salal, and baby’s breath; a six-pack of Full Sail Amber Ale; a bottle of 2009 La Lagune, Haut-Médoc — a fine cabernet from France, the merchant said — and Batdorf and Bronson’s Sulawesi Toraja coffee, which the label promised to be earthy and sweet with hints of pineapple and black pepper. He hadn’t planned on so much, but he hadn’t been able to decide if Sonny would love the rich colors of the flowers more, or his favorite ale, or if Luki would get more pleasure out of the fine French wine or a special coffee. He knew it could be seen as an embarrassment of riches, so to speak, but he hoped his friends would understand.

As he approached the door, he faced the more immediate problem of how to knock while juggling it all, but he needn’t have worried. Sonny must have seen him stumbling from his car, and he swung the door wide just as Brian arrived.

“Come in,” Sonny said, and calmly unburdened him, laying the presents carefully aside so he could wrap his long arms around Brian in an enthusiastic hug, which he obviously considered a proper greeting. He let go and backed away a step. “Good to see you!”

The wonderful thing about Sonny, Brian thought, was that he never would have said such a thing if he didn’t really mean it. Brian’s own smile grew, and he nodded. “You too,” he said. “I brought you flowers and beer.”

“Thank you!” Sonny laughed. “Such wisdom in one so young.”

“And coffee and wine for Luki,” Brian added, having no idea what else to say or why he was stating the obvious.

Luki strode up just then, apron clad, and chestnut curls — sprinkled now with silver, Brian noticed — in disarray. “Perfect,” he said. “What Sonny said — wisdom!”

Luki’s face seemed so familiar yet transformed somehow. He didn’t grin, but he smiled a little, and joy fairly danced in the pale eyes that most often used to seem so cold. Brian knew Luki had survived a nearly fatal bout with lung cancer — in remission less than a year — and he thought maybe that had given him some gift of contentment. But after Luki thanked him and gave him a quick hug, Brian saw his gaze settle on Sonny, and he recognized that the true source of Luki’s joy was his husband, and the love that had deepened through the years they’d spent together.

Distracted by the familiar wave of envy he always felt in the presence of this couple, wishing he could somehow express it, Brian missed much of what Sonny said as he followed them to the kitchen. He tried to marshal his attention back to the present, and caught Sonny saying he didn’t think he’d ever seen lilies so red. Brian nodded, and murmured agreement, but then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

He turned toward the motion, and there stood Jackie Vasquez. All grown up — and apparently fresh from a shower. December sun poured through a window at his left, and it lit the red in his hair, making it smolder despite being darkened with damp. Brian hadn’t noticed before that Jackie’s gray eyes were like a warmer version of Luki’s blue, very pale, and similar in size and shape. Perhaps it was a trait traceable to Luki’s father — Jackie’s grandfather. But there the similarity stopped. While Luki’s pale eyes shone in contrast to his brown skin, Jackie’s somehow harmonized with his pale, dark-haired, dark-freckled coloring. The effect, though, seemed to Brian no less singular.

After a few seconds, Brian realized that while he had been standing there silently analyzing the evidence of a common gene pool between the two remarkable-looking men, Jackie had actually been speaking to him.

“Jackie,” Brian said, then thought to add, “Um, it’s good to see you again.”

“You seem surprised.” Jackie absentmindedly scratched at the center of his chest, which was bare and still damp, and where fine russet hairs formed a diamond between healthy, smooth pecs that clearly belonged to a man. Nothing boyish remained in Jackie’s physique, though he still had what might be called a boyish smile, or youthful, at least.

“Yes,” Brian nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I had no idea you would be here.”

Luki spoke up. “We didn’t expect him to be here, Brian, or I would probably have mentioned it on the phone. He was supposed to fly out yesterday.”

“I got bumped,” Jackie explained, and shook his head, apparently unhappy with the airline. “So the uncles agreed to put up with me for another day, and Sonny said he’d drive me to the airport tonight.”

Brian felt a little tongue-tied, which wasn’t a familiar feeling at all. He nodded.

Jackie squinted and cocked his head to the side. “I mean it, though, Brian. I’m glad to have a chance to talk to you. I… I don’t remember things clearly from… but I know you did a lot, and I’ve always wanted to thank you in person.”

That shook Brian’s tongue loose, and he said, “Jackie, there is nothing at all for you to thank me for. I’m glad I was there and was some help. I’m grateful you came through okay.”

Brian saw color rise in the pale skin between the freckles of Jackie’s cheeks. Jackie bit his bottom lip — very reminiscent of his Uncle Luki — and then looked away. He glanced back, said, “Well, I’d better put clothes on… I mean, a shirt… You know.”

Brian heard Sonny giggling. A delightful and always unexpected sound.

“Hurry up, Jackie,” Luki said. “Food’s on the table.”

 

More from Lou at Changeling Press …

Lou Sylvre loves romance with all its ups and downs, and likes to conjure it into books. The sweethearts on her pages are men who end up loving each other — and usually saving each other from unspeakable danger. It’s all pretty crazy and very, very sexy. As if you’d want to know more, she’ll happily tell you that she is a proudly bisexual woman — a mother, grandmother, lover of languages, and cat-herder — of mixed cultural heritage. She works closely with lead cat and writing assistant, the (male) Queen of Budapest, Boudreau St. Clair. She lives in the rainy part of the Pacific Northwest, and hearing from a reader infallibly brightens the dreary weather. Find her through her links listed here, or drop her a line at lou.sylvre@gmail.com.

 

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.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or Pre-Order for October 11th at retailers

   

 

 

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!

 

Get it NOW at Changeling Press

or preorder for October 4th at retailers

   

 

 

 

Technical Difficulties by Emily Carrington #ActionAdventure #PNR #UrbanFantasy #interracial #LGBTQ @CarringtonEmily @changelingpress

Technical Difficulties (Lady Troubles 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Sonya is straight. She’s also terrified of werewolves. So, when she’s forced to work with a male-to-female transgender wolf, the last thing she expects is to fall in love. But, hey, not so fast. Falling in love with a werewolf means living in her pack, where first-time sex equals mating. For life.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

 

or Pre-Order at retailers for September 6th

   

 

Cool Text - Excerpt 315284462333348

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

The dragon had been brutalized. As Medical Technician Sonya Johnson worked over the corpse, she couldn’t miss the signs. The poor dragon-in-human-guise was female. She’d given birth recently. Her distended stomach, open cervix, and other signs all bore witness to this.

Sonya whispered, “I think you were dead when most of these were inflicted.” She’d quickly discovered the cause of death: a crushed skull that had occurred while the dragon was in human form. Now all she wanted was to be done chronicling the postmortem atrocities and see to it that the poor soul had a decent burial.

Sonya smiled just a little. Thinking of any dragon as a “poor soul” was a little like calling a lion a kitty cat. Dragons, like werewolves, she thought with a shudder, were known for taking care of themselves. Both apex predators of the magical world, for slightly different reasons, they were treated with respect and almost obsessive politeness by other magical beings and the few humans unlucky enough to know about their existence.

“Humans like me.” Her smile was gone as she finished cataloging the last injury. Shaking her head, Sonya covered the body with a sheet and left the autopsy room. She locked the door before heading into her office.

All right, so it wasn’t technically “her” office any more than the autopsy room belonged to her. But she thought of both as her property because she spent more time in them than anyone else. That was thanks to the doctoral-level degree she was seeking from SearchLight Academy in Reptilian Magical Creatures: Treatment and Dissection. Unlike those who studied humans, magical creature experts were expected to have a wider knowledge base. The closest comparison Sonya could make was a general-practice physician. And even they weren’t responsible for both the living and the dead.

She had just finished her second year of postgraduate work. It was May. She had a blissful ten weeks off for the summer. Of course, she was still expected to work on her dissertation, so “rest” wasn’t in her vocabulary. But she wouldn’t be attending biweekly meetings with this or that professor to discuss her research. She might even have considered a week away from the city of Tampa, where she worked, and its lesser cousin, the city of St. Petersburg, where she lived. But she hadn’t scheduled any time off because she’d been too fixated on her dissertation to think beyond the next few days.

Someone knocked on the office door. Not closed completely and made of a light pressboard, the door opened a little more. Sonya caught sight of a skirt in a bold print and a tapered shoe. She called, “Come in.”

A woman stepped inside, saying simply “Sorry to disturb you” — and Sonya’s mind went sideways. Not because there was anything particularly wrong with the voice. It was just that she wasn’t used to hearing a slightly male-sounding voice coming out of a woman’s body.

Transgender. That’s what they call themselves. And, on the heels of that, I hate it when someone says “they” about my people so I will not start out by thinking of this person as a part of “they.” She’s dressed as a woman. I’ll call her “her.”

“Um,” she said uncomfortably, “you’re not. Please sit down.”

The transgender person — the woman, Sonya scolded herself — didn’t sit. Neither did she shut the door. “Thanks, but…” She looked briefly discomfited. “I’m Agent Brown. Maxine.”

That surely wasn’t the name you were born with. Oh, shut the fuck up! She doesn’t want you staring, and you will get over yourself.

Sonya realized Maxine was waiting for a response. Her small, delicate and frankly attractive nose was turning slightly red, just like Sonya’s did when she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said, rising and extending her hand. “I’m Sonya Johnson, one of the medical techs.”

The moment their hands touched, the hair on the back of Sonya’s neck stood up. She pulled back rather quickly. “Um… um…” She looked away from the hand she’d shaken and into eyes that were startling in their beauty. Honey-brown and shadowed by long, thick lashes, they took Sonya’s breath away. She forgot for a moment that her neck was prickling and smiled. “How may I help you?”

Maxine, who had taken a step forward to grip Sonya’s hand, retreated at least that far. “Agent Wellington wants to see you when it’s convenient.” She hesitated before adding, “He’s the head of Werewolf Watch.”

Sonya shivered. She couldn’t help herself. She hated werewolves. They were the craziest, most terrifying — Oh, get ahold of yourself. If you’re being called, you specifically… She met Maxine’s eyes. “You are looking for me, right? Because Jenny Davis could –”

“I’m sorry. He wants you personally.” She really did look empathetic. “If it helps, it will just be him, you, and me in a large conference room.”

Sonya’s particular skills were needed. She specialized in dragons and basilisks. What could she possibly do for a werewolf? Because Wellington had to be a werewolf. Unlike in the Department of Dragons, with which Sonya worked on a regular basis, Werewolf Watch was stuffed to capacity with, well, what else? Werewolves.

Shit. That probably means this woman is a werewolf. She looked directly into Maxine’s eyes, needing to know. “You’re a werewolf too?”

Maxine nodded. “Agent Wellington said to tell you he understands your circumstances, whatever those are, and that he wouldn’t call for you unless it was absolutely necessary. He also promises you can have a large conference room and it will only be the three of us; Agent Wellington, you, and me. We want to make you as comfortable as possible.”

Whatever those are. She doesn’t know. Sonya felt a little better. “Can he give me fifteen minutes to… to…” She glanced down at her report. To finish my work flashed across her mind, but it would take at least two hours to do that.

“I’ll tell him you’ll be up in thirty,” Maxine said gently.

Feeling a little more comforted, Sonya said, “Thank you. I’ll be up soon.”

Maxine left, closing the door behind her. Black, like me. But transgender and werewolf. The three modifiers to the name Agent Maxine Brown hit one right after the other. Sonya sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands. If she was going to have a prayer of working with werewolves…

More from Emily at Changeling Press …

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender erotica. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires.

Website: http://emilycarrington.com

Blog:http://goodreads.com/author/show/4619715.Emily_Carrington

 

 

The Case of the Deadly Arrow Part 2 by Stephanie Burke #ActionAdventure #PNR #UrbanFantasy #interracial @Flashycat @changelingpress

The Case of the Deadly Arrow Part 2 (Mai-Fly Mysteries 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Mai becomes trapped in a deadly game with an assassin as she tries to get rid of the riots on her doorstep and understand the beast within her, with the intimate help of a Dryad named Ptris. Can she maintain her relationship with her Gremlin Ry-Ry and uncover the mysteries of the deadly arrows before one of them hits their target?

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

 

or Pre-Order at retailers for September 6th

 

   

 

 

cooltext315315717764148

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Stephanie Burke

“So… I take that to mean that someone is trying to kill me… outside of being mad about the riots.” They had untangled themselves from the massive people pile on the floor and Mai was now staring at the flaming arrow in her television set.

“Well, I never liked to watch much TV anyway,” she muttered, grateful that the sparking and hissing had stopped. “Ry will be devastated. What’s he going to watch soccer on now?”

In truth, Mai was shaken. A lot of really bad things had just happened to her in a really short amount of time. She was standing there calmly taking about current events in her life when in actuality, she wanted to hide someplace, preferably with a bottle of rum and a dangerous but sweet, hard-to-kill Gremlin. So… seeing that none of these things were possible right now, Mai was stuck trying to hold it together with two detectives, a Dryad, and an Asshole staring at her like she was going crazy.

“It’s football,” Ptris finally spoke as he moved beside her and placed one heavy hand on her shoulder. “Americans don’t have to take everything they see and rebrand it. It’s football because you pass the ball around with your feet.”

Maria was snapping photos and The Asshole was sitting in a chair, looking like she really would rather be someplace else.

“Football is a man’s sport,” Evan countered, moving to Mai’s other side, his calmness seeming to Mai to be a bit unnatural. “Full-out gladiator blood sport that is dangerous, exciting, and fun.”

“That would be rugby,” Ptris corrected, “If you are claiming human sports. No pads, blood and grit, a man’s game to be sure.”

“Human games?” Mai asked, having a feeling she was going to regret that question, but anything was better than staring at the fucking flaming arrow stuck in her TV. She pulled her attention away from near sudden death and turned it on her Dryad. He was talking about sports right now… If this was a ploy to stop her from thinking about her burning, painful near-death, it was working. Oddly enough, she had to know more.

“We had a game played in the Unseelie Courts, Blashavah.”

Blashavah?” Evan snorted. “Sounds like an exotic rash.”

“It is a time-honored game of endurance and perseverance. The players, seven on each team and five teams in total, strip down to their skin. They pummel each other with blunted pikes to be the first to capture a Shavah, a venomous rabid female miniature dragonling that is bespelled not to fly higher than ten feet. But as it is a land dragonling, its preferred method of escape is to burrow into any hole it finds, including holes in live bodies. The first team to capture the creature with the most mobile players at the end wins.”

Evan looked interested. Mai felt sick. Ptris stood there, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“You are making that up,” Mai finally accused, narrowing her eyes at the Dryad. “No way…”

“It is a violent and very exciting game,” Ptris defended.

“That sounds interesting,” Evan finally spoke, his eyes lit with the fire of a new blood sport. “How often do they play?”

“Usually during festivals, feasts, fetes, and before important political discussions with other courts in the realms. It is a celebration of life and a show of strength to those leaders watching.”

“A glimpse of an army and a taste of what they are capable of before you decide to go to battle.” Evan pursed his lips while nodding his head. “Slick. I bet that prevented a whole lot of wars.”

“Or at least made those hungry for the taste of blood and steel to reevaluate their decisions and act wisely and accordingly.”

“And they are completely naked?” Mai wrinkled her nose. “Everything just… hanging out? No protection at all?”

“It keeps the players attentive and cooperative. They must watch each other’s flanks as well as fight for the goal.”

“Cooperation and comparative skills building, Mai. We should adopt something similar before every meeting with other competitive countries. Give them something to think about instead of sending young people off to war while they sit in air conditioned offices calling the shots.”

“But… naked?” Mai could not get that picture out of her head. There were too many dangly parts on men and women to be running around on a field, dodging spears and trying to capture a slurping, poisonous lizard that could fly and liked to hide in holes. She looked down at her boobs and shook her head. No fucking way. The pain alone would bring her to her knees.

“Well, they are allowed gloves.”

“Gloves?” Mai asked, dividing her attention and her incredulous looks between Evan and Ptris.

“You don’t want to lose a finger. If the Shavah bites parts off, it is very hard to reattach them. The best swordsmen maintain all of their fingers. Fae-made digits are fine replacements, but tend to not function as smoothly the digits you are born with.”

“Just the fingers?” Mai had to ask. She had to go there. But there were a lot of dangly parts on a body. “What if something else gets bitten off?”

“Replacements can be made,” Ptris assured her. “It is a mark of honor and courage to have a penis removed in combat. The golden ones they replace them with are said to be better than what the God and Goddess intended and fertility is not affected.”

“I bet John Bobbitt wishes he’d had that option.” Evan chuckled and Mai rolled her eyes. Men. It was a universal thing that their most precious body part was improved upon and they were given honors for being stupid enough to have it bitten off in the first place.

“They replace breasts as well,” Ptris pointed out, and everyone stared at him in silent shock. “Fae warriors are also female, and every other gender besides.”

“Your women fight in active combat and in blood sport games?” Evan looked like he was in awe. Maria, who had finally stopped taking photos and phone calls, looked interested.

“A strong sword at your back holds no gender. That is one thing that always annoyed me about humanity. You leave half of your warriors at home, some even unable to defend themselves, while you go off to war. Your women are just as capable of wholesale slaughter as your men, and in fact, some are more dangerous than your decorated soldiers. And you kill with projectile weapons. Most of your soldiers never see hand-to-hand combat at all. I knew of several human females who could defeat your male fighters without undue stress or increased breathing rates.”

“One for femininity!” Maria gave a little cheer. The Asshole looked a bit more uncomfortable, sulking in a chair and wearing the remains of her hot chocolate.

“We honor our warriors of all genders and species.” Ptris was on a roll. “Which is why I don’t understand humanity’s problem with race. The weather conditions in the place of your ancestors’ origins has no bearing on your ability to function and add to your society as a whole. The way your ancestors’ skin adapted for survival in harsh climes does not affect brain function, ability, heart, strength, nerves, cunning… It is a waste of intelligent brains and capable minds to kill over such a trivial thing. Humans confuse me.”

“They confuse me too,” Mai agreed. “I never understood that.”

“You are Fae,” Ptris summed it up nicely.

More from Stephanie at Changeling Press …

Stephanie is a USA Today Best Selling, multi published, multi award-winning author, Master Costumer, handicapped, wife and mother of two.

From sex-shifting, shape-shifting dragons to undersea worlds, sexually confused elemental Fey and homo-erotic mysteries, all the way to pastel-challenged urban sprites, Stephanie has done it all, and hopes to do more.

Stephanie is an orator on her favorite subjects of writing and world-building, a sometime teacher when you feed her enough tea and donuts, an anime nut, a costumer, and a frequent guest of various sci-fi and writing cons where she can be found leading panel discussions or researching varied legends and theories to improve her writing skills.

Stephanie is known for her love of the outrageous, strong female characters, believable worlds, male characters filled with depth, and multi-cultural stories that make the reader sit up and take notice.

Blog: https://theflashcat.wordpress.com/