A Pack of His Own by Emily Carrington #PNR #UrbanFantasy #DarkFantasy #LGBT #GayRomance #NewRelease @CarringtonEmily @changelingpress

A psychic vampire, werewolf, foxgod – and a mother-in-law?
How can they make time for anything else?

A Pack of His Own (Duet) Vol. 2 (A Pack of His Own 2)

Publisher: Changeilng Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Box Set, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy,
Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures, Gay, Shapeshifters, Vampires

A psychic vampire, werewolf, foxgod – and a mother-in-law? How can they make time for anything else?

Tangled Up in You: Retired SearchLight agent Jason Campbell finds himself compelled by a fox demigod who gets to him through the magical medium of music. As Jason falls deeply in love with Reynard, he discovers Reynard is slave to a monster. Jason struggles to free both Reynard and the fox-god’s son, but he must do so without weapons, without backup, and without all the facts, which could lead to death’s retirement.

A Very Psychic Vampire Christmas: Charlie and Luis, A werewolf and a psychic vampire, have been mated for two years according to werewolf custom. They’re planning to get married, to comply with psychic vampire tradition, as well. Unfortunately, the psychic vampire matriarch wants her son to stay away from his werewolf lover — and she’ll stop at nothing to break them up.

Get it Today at Changeling Press

Pre-Order for November 16th at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Emily Carrington
Excerpt from Tangled Up in You

As commanded, Jason Campbell skipped through the wild flowers that divided his sister’s wheat field from the dirt lane.

No.

He walked. Neither shambling nor plodding, he walked. And although he had been ordered to “go skip in the daises” by his sister, he was only obeying because he wanted to be out of the house. He’d been in Kansas less than three hours, and he already wanted to run back to DC.

But nothing awaited him in Washington. The nation’s capital held nothing for him now that he’d been let go.

Jason stopped, head tilting as he caught the ringing, mournful sound of an acoustic guitar being strummed. He discounted it and kept walking. Any idiot could make the guitar sound what Jason called “surface beautiful,” meaning technically perfect but without a soul. It was a welcoming instrument, almost as easy as a child’s recorder and much more pleasant.

He stopped again, and he felt a slow smile stretch his mouth. The guitarist was plucking the instrument and making music. True and compelling runs of notes, like water over a fall. Jason nodded to the melody carried on the galloping accompaniment. He knew this one, and he began to sing softly.

“Papa, Papa, build me a boat
“That I might on the ocean float.
“To hail all ships as they pass by
“And to enquire for my darling boy.”

It was a griever’s song, full of loss and providing no promise of comfort. Jason loved it and would have, he told himself, even if he hadn’t been smarting from forced retirement.

He left the band of wildflowers and walked beside the dirt lane where only the occasional tractor passed. He would be trespassing in the neighbor’s field by following the music, but he had a hope that trespassing wasn’t as strictly watched and enforced here as in DC.

The melody rang over the broken chords, and the second verse flitted through Jason’s mind. He didn’t sing. It seemed blasphemous to cover the guitar’s voice with his own.

As we were out on the Eastern Isle
We lost four men
And your darling boy.

He entered another field of wheat, passing between the rows like a ghost, unseen and leaving little to no trace of his travels. Children of the Corn. He smirked briefly before letting it fall away. Child of the wheat is more to the point, but who ever heard of a horror story with that title? There were things that lived in corn fields. And wheat fields. Hungry things that called for human blood and were often sustained on birds and bugs while waiting for weary travelers.

Jason had killed some of them.

He shrugged the memories away and fixed his gaze on the single grain silo that lifted its head above the drowsy August world. There was a farmhouse beyond the structure but a good distance off, leaving the gray and cylindrical exclamation point all but alone.
The music seemed to be coming from the tower’s top. And impossible as that surely was — grain silos were places of storage, not sitting — Jason shielded his eyes and squinted, looking up for the first glimpse of the player.

“I’m too far away,” he whispered as the music left off “The Sailor Lad” and went into a skipping tangle of notes he didn’t recognize. “I can’t possibly see him. Or her.”

Still he peered, and much sooner than he would have thought, he’d reached the base of the grain silo. There was a broken ladder on its side, a rusted thing that hung in defiance of the building’s otherwise well-tended look.

He began circling the massive cylinder, searching for another way up. Because the music was definitely coming from above him, and he needed to find the guitarist. He needed to.

And while he sought, the laughing melody went on.

* * *

Reynard sensed the gnat far below, and his heart ached. He fell into a faster rhythm in an attempt to relieve the pain. Go away, he thought at the gnat who was really an innocent of some kind. A human innocent of some kind. Go away. Save yourself. Not that he was dangerous on his own, but he was bound to a ravenous beast.

“Go away, go away,” he chanted against the plucking of his right hand. “Go away, go,” he muttered as his left hand found chord after chord and changed, without Reynard’s conscious desire, to another depressing ballad. This one was without words, and Reynard hated the silence left when he quit speaking.

He purposely changed the music and, unable to keep away from the mildly dirge-like, began making up one of his own.

“Fly, little, fly, little,
“Fly, little bird.
“Far away from me,
“Far away from him,
“Far from your own desires.”

That wasn’t half bad, and Reynard went on:

“Run, little, run, little
“Run, little bear.
“Dangerous parents you have.
“Dangerous you will become,
“But dangerous I am.
“Run. Run. Run.”

But the gnat — the man — was now prodding at the ladder below. If he kept doing that, he would discover the silo’s secret. Then there would be little Reynard could do to keep him away. To keep him safe.

He bent a touch more magic into the song, hoping it would affect the man as his first attempt with small magic had not. And he sang.

“Creep, little, creep, little,
“Creep, little gnat
“Far from me.
“Far from here.
“Far from your death.”

For an instant, this seemed to work. The man hesitated with his hands not quite resting on the invisible rungs of the ladder that only looked rusted.

Then he began to climb.

He did it fast, as if he was afraid he’d rethink his actions. Or maybe, Reynard decided when he caught a glimpse of the man’s briefly upturned face, as if he had climbed invisible ladders before. The act might be completely commonplace.

What sort of man is this? Reynard stepped back from his window as the stranger neared. Why isn’t he affected by my music, by my magic? A frisson of excitement rushed to the ends of all his fingers and curled his toes. There had never been a mere mortal able to resist him. Who was this man?

Maybe he isn’t a mere mortal human. But when Reynard had sent out his magic to stop the stranger, he had felt no answering magic. The immune newcomer was as mundane as sliced bread.

He allowed himself a brief smile as the memory of his childhood, years without sliced bread, years of loaves never precut, flitted through his mind. He’d lived long enough to see something that had once seemed ostentatious become common. This man, too, might become the accepted thing.

But not now, he thought, as the stranger climbed through the window and stood in the same room with Reynard in spite of the “go away” melody. Now he is a miracle.

Reynard bowed, not wondering at his sudden desire to be formal. “Welcome.” That sounded as if he’d expected the man. “You are a surprise.” That sounded rude. Quit analyzing your words and say something that is truly you. “You are welcome here, miraculous stranger.” That at least seemed like him, even if it remained overly formal.

The average-looking man returned his bow. “Thank you. I am Jason Campbell.”

Weren’t names a thing of power? Yes, but this man seemed unafraid of that.

 

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Emily Carrington has been writing m/m erotic romance (specializing in urban fantasy) since 2010. She is currently branching out into the other letters of the LGBTQ rainbow. She lives in Maryland with her guide dog. For short stories about the main and side characters in her books, please visit her website.

Website: emilycarrington.com/

Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/4619715.Emily_Carrington

Facebook: facebook.com/emily.carrington.370

Twitter: twitter.com/CarringtonEmily

New at Changeling Press #DarkFantasy #Interracial #PNR #Gay #LGBT @Kate27Steele @AngelaKnight @Flashycat

New this week at Changeling Press

 

Master of Valor (Merlin's Legacy 2)

So a vampire, a witch and a werewolf walk into a morgue… Seriously. The night has teeth.

Genres/Themes: Dark Fantasy, Action Adventure, Paranormal, Interracial, Magic, Vampires

Cover Artist: Angela Knight

Get it at Changeling Press

 

 

 

Mischief Managed (Sympathy For the Devil 5)

 

Mischief can be managed but never controlled.

Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Gay, Interracial, Rock Star

Get it at Changeling Press

 

 

 

 

 

Soul Familiar (Soul Familiar 4)

Alex, a soul familiar, has the solution to Tyler’s problem. All he wants in exchange is Tyler…

Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Gay, Magic

Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Get it at Changeling Press

 

His Touch (Dark Magick) by Dulce Dennison #LGBTQ #Gay #BDSM #RomanceBooks #DarkFantasy @changelingpress @AuthorDulce

 

Pyk never thought he’d find his destiny deep within the shadows of the dark forest.

DD_His Touch_Web

Pyk doesn’t fit in with the light Fae, no matter how hard he tries to conform to the ways of his people. He craves things, dark things, that no light Fae should ever think about, much less desire. At four hundred years old, he thinks he should have things figured out by now, not still be feel like he doesn’t belong. Until the day the dark forest calls to him…

Prince Llewellyn was banished from his home long ago, his deformities too much for even the dark Fae to handle. Nearly forgotten, he’s lived in isolation for five thousand years. Stories of the monstrous Fae prince have become fodder for nightmares to scare Fae children into obedience. But Llewellyn lives, and he’s lonely. When a light Fae comes to him, Llewellyn demands that Pyk bow and submit. He only means to keep Pyk long enough to ease the ache of being alone — he doesn’t count on falling in love.

When others want to destroy Pyk and use him to start a war with the light Fae, Llewellyn knows he must do everything he can to protect his mate, even if it means going home. Now that he’s found the perfect Fae to give in to his dark desires, he’s not letting him go.

WARNING: contains bondage, spanking, sex toys, anal sex, and a bit of darkness. If you don’t like over the top hot scenes between two sexy fae males that may melt your e-reader, then this book isn’t for you.

Purchase October 19th at Changeling Press

Pre-Order for October 26th at Amazon, Barnes &Noble, iTunes, and Kobo

His Touch Graphic1

EXCERPT

Magick swirled through the air as spells were thrown with arcs of color and light. Pyk scowled at the juvenile behavior as a puff of pink smacked him across the face, the magick settling over his skin leaving tingles in its wake. He shook it off before trudging across the field. Magick pelted him, making his temper spike with every spell. It was wasteful, and was going to draw the wrong kind of attention to their small gathering.

A breeze teased the tall grass and made the leaves rustle. His gaze was drawn to the dark forest, a place where monsters and evil lived. Even the bravest of souls who entered were never seen again. It was said that a beast lived in the forest. Eyes black as pitch, horns the color of brimstone, and a soul that was badly damaged. Young light fae were told to never enter the forest or the monster would eat them, bones and all.

Pyk was too old for such stories, but there was something sinister about the dark forest. Whispers reached his ears, a calling that was hard to ignore, as the voices beckoned him closer. He’d taken three steps toward the forest before he jolted back to awareness. Unease skittered down his spine, a feeling of dread overcoming him, as if he were being watched. Nothing moved from within the forest, and no animals made a sound. It was said that any creature who survived the dark forest became twisted and evil, like the monster who ruled over the territory that lay in shadows and mist.

A glance over his shoulder let him know that no one else was wary of being so close to so much danger. They laughed and played, acting as if they were ten and not two hundred. Part of him envied them. It had been so long since he’d felt carefree. When was the last time he’d played or had fun of any kind? They joked and called him an old man, but Pyk wondered if maybe he had aged before his time. He was only four hundred, still quite young, but being different from the others had given him more of a cynical view of the world. He knew if any of the light fae knew what he really desired, they would shun him.

The whispering grew stronger, drawing his attention back to the forest. Tendrils of black smoke danced and reached for him, pulling him closer. His heart thudded in his chest and his mind screamed for him to back away, and yet his feet carried him closer. The sounds of the laughing fae behind him dimmed as the whispers grew more insistent. The forest was closer than ever before, the darkness luring him in. A scent teased his nose, something rank and rancid. The stench of rotting flesh made him gag and he stumbled back a step.

A black, clawed hand reached from the darkness, wrapped around his wrist, and jerked him into the forest. Pyk stumbled and fell to his knees, the decaying leaves of the forest crumbling under his weight. His gaze lifted, following a pair of black leather boots, pants that molded to strong thighs and an impressive bulge, and a shirt as dark as the endless night sky. Despite the fear he felt, his cock responded to the pure strength in the male standing over him. Looking further up, all he saw was darkness where a face should have been, and the glow of red eyes. Horns curled toward the canopy, tipped with a silver metal.

He should run. Scream. Do something to get away, but there was a pull he couldn’t ignore. His cock throbbed in his pants, and he wondered what sort of spell the creature had cast over him. Other than the horns, claws, and strange face, he had the body of a fae. Stronger than most, broader perhaps. Beautiful. Pyk stared at the expanse of the creature’s chest and he wondered what it looked like under all the black clothing.

The claw-tipped fingers tightened on Pyk’s wrist and the creature began dragging him through the dark forest. Pyk stumbled to his feet and trailed after the figure, his magick sparking then fizzling at his fingertips. Fear pulsed through him combating his growing lust, and he reached down deep, trying to pull from the well of his magick to no avail. Either his fear was too great, or the creature held some sort of power over him.

Darkness closed in around them as twigs and leaves crunched under their feet. The air grew colder, and there was silence around them, as if even the twisted creatures who lived in the forest were afraid of whoever was holding him captive. As much as Pyk wished he was back in the field, he still felt that pull he couldn’t ignore. A mixture of curiosity and desire spiraled through him as he tried to study the figure hauling him through the forest.

A clearing came into view, and with it, a tall castle. Pyk would have frozen in place had the dark figure not been dragging him along. The gray stone structure reached toward the sky, shadows clinging to it, and vines climbing the sides. The massive doors opened as they approached, as if welcoming their master home, and Pyk wondered if his life was about to end. Being led to the evil being’s lair couldn’t be a good thing.

The stones under his feet absorbed the sounds of his boots as he crossed the threshold. As they trudged further into the castle, the doors behind them swung shut, just as soundlessly as they had opened. It was an eerie feeling, and Pyk couldn’t shake the sensation of his skin crawling. Magick swirled through the air, dark and heavy, its hands twisting and reaching for him. The mysterious creature led him further into the castle, the halls seeming to bend and move on their own. Another set of doors opened as they approached, and the creature dragged him further inside, climbing steps to a dais.

Pyk was released and nearly fell face-first onto the floor. He landed on his knees, and waited for his fate. The figure sprawled across a wooden throne, and with a wave of a clawed hand, light illuminated the room they had entered. As the warm glow bathed the creature, the shadows of his face cleared and Pyk was struck dumb by the most handsome fae he’d ever seen. The red eyes changed to a silvery gray, and as more of the creature’s cloaking spell cleared, Pyk realized he was looking at a dark fae.

Long, black hair cascaded over the fae’s shoulders, and slightly pointed ears peeked through the strands. The horns remained, and Pyk realized they weren’t part of the illusion. The fae’s hands really were tipped with claws, even though his fingers looked normal otherwise. Pyk had never heard of a fae surviving in the dark forest, and now instead of being afraid, he was intrigued. His gaze scanned the figure, and he bit his lip at the bulge that still pushed against the male’s pants. It seemed the desire he’d felt wasn’t one-sided.

“Who are you?” Pyk asked.

“Prince Llewellyn.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

With an overactive imagination and a penchant for making up stories, was it any wonder Dulce Dennison decided to be an author? From cowboys to shapeshifters, she has a story for them all, but her passion lies in writing m/m romances. Dulce believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.

Follow Dulce on Amazon and Facebook!

COVER REVEAL His Touch by Dulce Dennison #LGBT #GayRomance #gaybooks #DarkFantasy @AuthorDulce @changelingpress

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About the Book:

Pyk has never fit in with the light fae, no matter how hard he’s tried to conform to the ways of his people. He craves things, dark things, that no light fae should ever even think about, much less desire. At four hundred years old, he should have figured things out, not felt conflicted and like he didn’t belong. Until the day the dark forest calls to him… Lured into the shadows, Pyk never thought he’d find his destiny in the forbidden territory, the place all light fae feared.

Prince Llewellyn was banished from his home long ago, his deformities too much for even the dark fae to handle. He’s lived in isolation for around five thousand years, the stories of the monstrous fae prince nothing more than fodder for nightmares and to scare children into obedience. But Llewellyn lives, and he’s lonely. When a light fae comes to him, Llewellyn demands Pyk bow and submit. He’d only meant to keep him long enough to ease the ache of being alone. Llewellyn never counted on falling in love.

When others want Pyk, want to destroy him and use him to start a war with the light fae, Llewellyn knows he must do everything he can to protect the male he’s claimed as his mate, even if it means going home. Now that he’s found the perfect fae to give in to his dark desires, he’s not letting him go.

WARNING: contains bondage, spanking, sex toys, anal sex, and a bit of darkness. If you don’t like over the top hot scenes between two sexy fae males that may melt your e-reader, then this book isn’t for you.

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Releasing October 19th at Changeling Press

Available October 26th at online retailers

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About Dulce:

With an overactive imagination and a penchant for making up stories, was it any wonder Dulce Dennison decided to be an author? From cowboys to shapeshifters, she has a story for them all, but her passion lies in writing m/m fantasy romances. Dulce believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after — even grumpy bear shifters.

Married since 2000 to a man she isn’t sure is quite human, her husband and children (which she fondly calls the demon spawn) keep her busy, but never too busy to write. Is there such a thing as too busy to write? Most mornings you can find Dulce set up with her laptop, a cat curled up next to her, and a steaming cup of coffee just an arm’s reach away.

Dulce loves to hear from her readers! You can find her on Amazon, her BlogFacebook or Twitter 

Sign-up for Dulce’s Newsletter

 

New at Changeling Press #NewRelease #LGBT #RomanceBooks #romanticcomedy @changelingpress @willaokati ‏@AnneKane @mrsbookmark

It’s release day at Changeling Press! Check out the newest books from Echo Ishii, Anne Kane, and Willa Okati! Each of these titles is available now direct from the publisher and are available for pre-order at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo for October 5th.

 

Raw Materials (Roosters 9)

 

Genres/Themes: Contemporary, Gay, Interracial

Get it at Changeling Press

 

When self-help guru Edward Vincent offers very personalized coaching, Graham finds he can’t resist….

 

 

 

 

One Hot Fairy Tale

 

Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Romantic Comedy, Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures

Get it at Changeling Press

 

When a sexy genie sets out to capture the tooth fairy, who knows what mayhem will ensue!

 

 

 

The Mighty Casey (Duet)

 

Genres/Themes: Contemporary, Romantic Comedy, Gay

Get it at Changeling Press

Get the Paperback

 

Nate takes his lover out to the ball game. Who knows what might happen when Casey’s up at bat?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Raw Materials by Echo Ishii #Cocky #Alpha #GayRomance #LGBT #interracial @changelingpress @mrsbookmark

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Graham Warren is a vet, an adventurer, and man who dresses his own way and lives by his own rules. He’s suddenly inherited his own company, and attends a RAW Materials conference to change his personal image, but nothing seems to be working.

Edward Vincent has looks, style, and attitude. He runs RAW, the private coaching and personal enhancement empire targeting wealthy corporate clients. Edward Vincent believes anyone can completely transform to someone entirely different. After all, he’s done it himself.

When Edward Vincent offers Graham Warren some very personalized coaching, he can’t resist. After all, he’s drawn to Edward Vincent and knows there must be secrets behind those cryptic glances and finely pressed suits.

Can both of these men leave personal motivation behind to find the motivation to love each other?

Available Sept. 28th from Changeling Press

https://www.changelingpress.com/raw-materials-roosters-9-b-2773

Pre-Order for October 5th

Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Raw-Materials-Roosters-Echo-Ishii-ebook/dp/B07HGG82XF

Barnes and Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/raw-materials-echo-ishii/1129581806?ean=2940161797075

iTunes:
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/raw-materials/id1436643160?ls=1&mt=11

Kobo:
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/raw-materials-1

 

Excerpt:

Edward took a deep breath. He straightened his back, he rolled his neck, did a little two-step like a boxer ready to enter the ring. He had this. He was in control.

Nortrice turned and gestured to him, stretching her arms out as if greeting royalty. Edward remembered. This was his kingdom. He was royalty in this room.

Edward Vincent strolled out on that stage with a wave and a smile. He glanced at the audience, repressed the urge to blow kisses, but kept up the smile. He reached Nortrice — one foot away to indicate intimacy and friendliness — gave her a handshake. No hugs. This was about professionalism. This was about polish. Nortrice was top notch at her job in making sure RAW got its message across.

Edward grabbed the microphone in one swooping movement. “Welcome,” he said.

The crowd went into defeating applause. Nortrice had worked her magic in getting the crowd pumped up.

“Refinement. Attitude. Wealth,” he said as the crowd repeated, “These are the raw materials of life,” Edward said feeling more confident with each passing second. More like himself.

He scanned the crowd. Nortrice had coached him not to speak to the whole crowd. Speak to one person. Find that one focus that you want to reach. Talk only to them, and the power and intimacy translates in your words.

Edward had the words. He needed the focus. The one.

He scanned the audience.

Eager faces. Pleasant smiles. Well-dressed, business-oriented with nice suits, power ties, power shirts. Good make-up and neat haircuts. At a $3,000 price tag for this conference, this was hardly a surprise. RAW taught that the best investment was an investment in yourself. And these were people who invested in themselves. They had bodies courtesy of personal trainers and faces courtesy of plastic surgeons.

Edward focused on one.

A man he’d seen around the conference, sitting toward the back at lectures, standing aloof at the mixers. He’d been here before. Edward had spotted him briefly at a gay bar in town last night. He was tall and broad-shouldered with a purposeful stance that screamed ex-military and probably not in the distant past, even if his brown hair was cut too long. A tattoo snaked out from the side of his neck. He was dressed in a throwaway suit that didn’t quite fit. And he wasn’t in his seat. He was leaning on the wall to the side, arms crossed.

The name came to him.

Graham Warren.

Edward fixed on him and at the very moment that man met his gaze. Their eyes were locked on to each other. Edward pushed the other people out of his mind; let their chatter fall away from his notice, and spoke as if he were talking to this man only.

“When we take the power over our own lives, when we mold ourselves, we can reinvent ourselves to be anything we want. A street wise kid becomes a corporate CEO. The pauper becomes the prince. The ugly duckling becomes the swan.”

 

About the Author:

Echo Ishii loves to write stories of the fantastic — from high fantasy to high tech and everything in between. She is a long time science fiction fan, as well as a fan of all things fantasy and paranormal — classic sci fi movies, shows, and even radio dramas.

 

New at Changeling Press Today! #NewRelease #EroticRomance #RomanceBooks #Bondage #BDSM #Vampires #LGBT @changelingpress @kitcatjms @elizabethjewell @MeganSlayer

GET 15% OFF THESE TITLES TODAY AT CHANGELING PRESS!

I walked away six years ago. But this time she’ll be mine!

Zipper (Dixie Reapers MC 7)

Genres/Themes: Contemporary, Interracial, New Adult

NOTE: No Cliffhanger. No Cheating. Guaranteed HEA. Spanking. Sex Toys.

Get it at Changeling Press

 

Cal lost his wife years ago, and the last thing he wants is a relationship. Then he meets Triss…

Lightning Girl (Solar Flare 4)

Genres/Themes: Bisexual, Gay, Vampires, Scifi, Paranormal

Get it at Changeling Press

 

Vampires and humans don’t mix, no matter what fate says. Good thing Vampires make their own rules…

Haven House Vampires (Haven House Vampires 4)

Genres/Themes: BDSM, Boxed Set, Dark Fantasy, Bisexual, Vampires

Get it at Changeling Press