Once You Go Demon by Sean Michael #NewRelease #GayRomance #BDSM #DarkFantasy #PNR @seanmichael09 @changelingpress

Once You Go Demon (Once You Go Demon 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

There’s a shift of power happening in Hell, and nothing will ever be the same.

Kerr has been with High Demon Horatio’s household since his age of majority. A natural submissive pleasure demon, for the last seven years he has been untouched by his master Horatio and his job has morphed into a more managerial role. Still, it’s a shock when goons from Master Belial’s house arrive at his doorstep to inform him he’s been sold and his new master expects him to come immediately.

Lost by Horatio in a card game, Kerr finds himself in the Belial household, where Ceris, Master of the Harem, takes Kerr under his wing. Kerr is not only honored and used as he was made to be, but he is given a newly acquired demon, Harmony, as his own to train. The three pleasure demons have a rocky start, but they have all the time in Hell to figure out how to work together, and it isn’t long before they begin to care for one another.

Meanwhile, Belial has waited for thousands of years for Horatio to admit he’s actually a submissive. When it appears that’s never going to happen, Belial arranges for his best friend to lose a card game in which he’s offered himself as the prize. Horatio can’t believe Belial would do this for him, but the council puts their seal of approval on the bet, and he has no choice but to offer himself to Belial, who immediately gets to work convincing Horatio that he’ll be so much happier as Belial’s sub.

Will Kerr and Horatio find joy in their places in the Belial household? Only time will tell.

Publisher’s Note: The novel Once You Go Demon by Sean Michael was available briefly from another house.

 

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Sean Michael

Kerr stared at the paper the incredibly well dressed goons at the door handed him.

Sold?

Him?

He’d been sold into Horatio Liverage’s house to act as the man’s submissive since he was of maturity, and now, after so long, Horatio had sold him without a word? Without a note?

Nonsense.

Utter nonsense.

“There must be a mistake.”

The goon pointed one clawed finger at the insignia at the bottom of the page. “What does that signify?”

“Horatio Liverage.” He couldn’t deny it was his master’s seal.

“Then there isn’t a mistake. Bring us Kerr, and we’ll be on our way.” The teeth on the guy doing the talking brooked no argument. Neither did the tufts of smoke coming out of Silent and Scary’s ears.

“I’m Kerr. I have to gather my things, make arrangements…” Right? Didn’t he get that much at least?

The lower demon looked at the contract again. “It doesn’t say anything about belongings here. Let’s go.”

“I have precious things that hold my family name, and it doesn’t say that I can’t bring them. I am not resisting, simply gathering my stuff.” He could bargain with the best of them. He knew he had to convince them, though, as either one of them could pick him up and toss him over a shoulder without even trying.

Henchman One turned to Henchman Two, who shrugged.

“Is your master here? He can decide.”

“He is not. He’s away. As such, I am second in charge of the household.” He held no illusions that he was beloved or even a lover, but he was well trusted with finances and with all aspects of Horatio’s life. “I shall return in moments.”

He began to pack — the stash of jewels he had been collecting for years, his few precious books, his favorite clothes, and the music and computer that were his. He grabbed his toiletries, the hologram of his sire and dam, and the fragile glass orb that throbbed with a sweet, gentle light.

Both goons were frowning when he came back, pushing the pallet of his things.

“We won’t be party to you stealing from your master.”

“I haven’t stolen a thing. These things are my own and now go with me to my new master.” Fuckers. Horatio might be able to sell him on a whim, but these were his possessions and they were going with him.

They looked at each other again, shrugged, and turned, heading down the walk toward the truck at the end of it. “We’re not toting anything,” the talker called back over his shoulder.

“Not yet,” Kerr muttered.

He wasn’t some pointless goon. He was a highly trained, highly useful sexual submissive and house servant. Soon he would find a place with whomever the fuck the asshole prick that never made love to him anyway, dickhead, had sold his papers to, and then this mouth breather would do what Kerr said.

The goon opened the back door and just stood there, watching him putting his things in. “You’re riding back there, too.”

“Thank you so much.” He rolled his eyes, pushed his hair behind his ears, and climbed in, telling himself that he wasn’t hurt, that he was nothing but property, that he shouldn’t cry. One day, that might even work.

The door closed with a loud clang, leaving him in the dark, the engine starting up moments later. The truck lurched forward, sending him falling onto his ass.

He did cry then, silently, heartbroken. He’d lost his home, his job, his master, and no one had so much as warned him. Someone had written up that paperwork, someone had made the arrangements, and someone had thrown him away.

He couldn’t believe Horatio had done this to him, and without any warning at all, not a word to him.

The truck stopped abruptly, the brakes squeaking loudly. The door opened again, the dull grey sky seeming bright after the darkness of the truck.

Two little slaves popped up into the back and began grabbing his stuff.

He lifted his chin and firmed his lips. He was well trained, valuable. Special in his own right. Men begged to be wealthy enough to own him.

“Come, come,” murmured one boy, motioning for him to get down from the truck and follow. He couldn’t see the two goons. “You’re going to be in the salle, honored one. Your groom is Ceris, and he is the Salle Master.”

Finally, someone realized how important he was, what his stature was, even if he was a slave. He followed the lad through a side door and along a winding hall of stone. This place was much brighter than his mast — than his former master’s, more marble than rock on the columns and floors, white and light blue shot through with silver and gold.

When they arrived at the harem, the whole place still felt luxurious and gilded, as if the master lived back here as well as the front of the house. Well, his new master was very rich, there was no denying that.

A huge bald man stood as he walked in, bowing to him solemnly. “Honored one. I am Ceris, your groom. Boy, put the things in the gold room, then call for tea.”

The lad who’d guided him here bowed and went running with Kerr’s things, deeper into the harem.

“Welcome to Lord Belial’s harem. We were very excited to learn he won you and that you would be joining us.”

Lord Belial? Bel? Horatio had sold him to his best friend? Seriously?

“Thank you for your welcome.” He bowed automatically, his training taking over immediately.

“Tea is coming. After that, I imagine you’d like a bath. Perhaps something light to eat.”

Ceris was a handsome demon. The bald head exposed the little horns completely, and they glowed in the light. His bare chest was beautifully muscled, the gauzy pants exposing strong legs and hinting at a heavy cock. There was a heavy spiky gold tattoo covering Ceris’ ridged belly, marking him as Master Bel’s, Kerr was sure. Marked, but lovely.

“I… Yes, of course.” He was developing the world’s worst headache.

A lad, different than the first two, he thought, came in with a tray holding a teapot and two teacups. He left them on a low table, bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Totz. You can go.”

The boy did, hurrying off like he had somewhere to be.

“Please. Sit.” Ceris waved toward the benches that surrounded the table.

“Thank you, Ceris.” He and Ceris were equals, and he refused to treat the man with less respect than he deserved. “I was not aware I was to be transferred. Not until the papers arrived at the door.”

Transferred. Traded. Discarded.

“That’s unfortunate. Were you able to collect all your things?” Ceris asked, pouring out the tea.

“I brought the things that were special that I could carry. What will my duties be here? In my former home, I acted as valet and head of household — finances, staff management, that sort of thing.”

Ceris shot him a confused look. “I was led to believe you were a trained submissive, honored one.”

“Yes, I was. My former master chose not to use me in that regard.” Not for many years and not often when he had.

“Perhaps that’s why he wagered you in the game of chance he played with our master last night.” Ceris leaned forward and spoke quietly, confidentially. “He’s still here, sleeping it off. It got very loud and much was imbibed. I’m very sorry for the way it happened, but maybe it’s for the better. There is no where else in all of Hell that I would rather be.”

“I will thrive wherever they wish me to be.” He hoped. He had no choice.

Ceris looked him up and down, gaze almost like a physical touch. “I’m sure you will.”

 

More from Sean at Changeling Press…

Writing under S. Michael for Het Ménage and Sean for signature M/M titles, Sean Michael leads a classic double life.

Often referred to as “Space Cowboy” and “Gangsta of Love” while still striving for the moniker of “Maurice,” Sean Michael spends days surfing, smutting, organizing an immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs.

While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and perusing the Kama Sutra by channeling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to “Chicago.”

A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.

Barring any of that? Sean’ll stick with writing stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.

Frost Thaw Encounters by Emily Carrington #kindleunlimited #GayRomance #UrbanFantasy #PNR #LGBT @CarringtonEmily @changelingpress

Frost Thaw Encounters (A Pack of His Own 5)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Frost Thaw. For werewolves, it’s the most sexually charged night of the year.

Charlie and Luis: Frost Thaw is pack alpha Charlie’s favorite holiday, but this year the ceremonies include incorporating the former Rowan Pack into the Tilthos. Pomp and circumstance. And responsibility — especially for Charlie, pack alpha. Which makes sneaking away just before the festivities begin to find Luis, his mate, all that much sweeter.

Ethan and Jeremy: Ethan’s greeting Jeremy’s ex-lover for the first time. Jeremy knows there’s only one way to convince Ethan he’s the only man Jeremy will ever love…

Garrett and Michael: It’s Garrett and Michael’s one year anniversary, and Garrett has bought Michael the perfect Frost Thaw/anniversary gift — a pair of shiny new handcuffs…

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

Charlie’s favorite holiday, werewolf-created or human made, was Frost Thaw. But this year’s iteration would be different. Tonight, he would be adding to his pack. The ceremony would be all about incorporating the former Rowan Pack into his pack, the Tilthos pack. Pomp and circumstance. And although there would be time for song and dance throughout the evening, there would be little chance for Charlie to do more than observe. As alpha of the newly increased Tilthos pack, it would be his responsibility to see to it that all the wolves behaved themselves.

So, knowing he wouldn’t be able to truly enjoy himself this evening, he went in search of his mate, Luis, at around one in the afternoon. Technically, both of them should have been at work. But Charlie had called off for “wolf business” and Luis had taken one of his infrequent vacation days for the same. Even though he was a psychic vampire, he was Charlie’s mate. That meant he could claim pack business.

Charlie discovered Luis in their bedroom, stripping.

“Reading my mind?” Charlie asked as he shut the door and locked it.

Luis turned on the stereo and turned it up so the few others in the house wouldn’t hear. “Maybe.” Luis unzipped his fly.

Charlie loved the sound of a zipper. He grinned and went down on his knees before his mate. “I’ve missed tasting you.” And he took almost all of Luis’s thick cock into his mouth.

Luis swayed and moaned, tangling his fingers in Charlie’s short, kinky black hair. “Mm.” He bucked his hips, though gently. “Claim me. Make me yours.”

Charlie smiled as he sat back on his heels. He gave Luis’s glans one last lick, savoring the taste of pre-cum even as the air filled with heady scent made of equal parts chocolate, dark, rich coffee, and Luis’s own scent. The first two aromas were part and parcel of all male psychic vampires, but the third was indescribable bliss.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day?”

“Not staring,” Charlie murmured. “Inhaling.” He grinned when Luis uttered an embarrassed-sounding laugh.

“I’ve never really thought of myself as smelling good. No matter how many times you tell me.”

Charlie stood. “Well, get used to it. You smell like my own private moon garden.” This was a werewolf saying, like “My own corner of heaven.” Charlie had slowly been introducing his mate to all the werewolf sayings. And he shared in Luis’s culture too. He spoke Spanish, specifically Puerto Rican Spanish, but there was so much more than language to share.

Charlie took Luis’s face between his hands and kissed his lover deeply and thoroughly, until they were both breathless and their cocks, Luis’s uncovered and Charlie’s still trapped, seemed to strain toward each other.

Then Charlie stepped back and smiled wolfishly. Hungrily. “Bend over.”

 

Get more from Emily at Changeling Press…

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.

Going Back by Treva Harte #GayRomance #LGBT #secondchances #NewRelease @changelingpress

Going Back (Price of Fame 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Gene Price, former teenage star, has been living the simple life. He’s cut himself off from anyone who knows about him and his former bad reputation. Out of the blue he begins to get death threats. He doesn’t want any part of his past nowadays, but the only one he trusts to find out what’s going on and protect him is Leo, his former bodyguard — the one he’d slept with before he fired him.

Will Leo be wiling to protect Gene? And could he ever be interested in the changed man Gene’s become?

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Treva Harte

“Been a long time, Leo.” The extra decade looked good on him. He had more muscle — more presence. He wore his suit easily, not like the nervous minder Lane had hired back in the day. There was just enough gray at the temples to make him look distinguished. He’d grown up looking fine.

I found myself rubbing the surgery scar underneath my hair. I thought I’d broken myself of that nervous habit. But I didn’t like the way he was assessing me. Yeah, we both knew the extra decade hadn’t done as much for me. I sure as hell wasn’t the pretty boy people had gone insane for when I was in my teens and early twenties. I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t impressed. It was no more than I expected, and better than the outright disappointment I sometimes got. But it stung a little.

“A long time? Yes.” His voice was deeper now, but he’d talked a little more back then. Smiled a little more.

He wanted to be here even less than I’d wanted to ask for him. My stomach clenched again. What else could I expect? I couldn’t think of anything I’d done then to make him want to see me now. It was too bad that I’d liked him back when I didn’t like anyone much. Since I remembered the way I worked during my glory days, it meant I’d been more of a dick to him than I normally was. And I was a pretty big dick to people.

“I probably should apologize for that long ago time.” My memory was a little spotty, but I remembered a few incidents with him hustling me out of trouble while I did my best to stay back in it. And of course the reason he’d quit.

He looked at me steadily and didn’t say anything.

So I kept talking. “I’m still kind of an asshole, but I like to think my time away from all the glitter has improved my behavior some. People don’t get nearly as pissed off at me now.”

“Death threats usually mean someone is pissed off,” he pointed out.

I took a deep breath. “Well. I suppose there’s that. I was hoping you would tell me not to worry so much about it.”

“Afraid that’s not in my best interest. You hired me and hauled me out here on the tail end of a blizzard because you’ve been worried, and now I’m being paid to worry about it. But whatever. I don’t care about how you feel about these notes as long as you realize I’m in charge of keeping you safe. I’ll do whatever seems necessary.”

“You aren’t much in favor of the customer is always right, are you?” I tried to smile. It wasn’t his words so much as his attitude that stung. I probably had picked the wrong guy for this job.

Strange how disappointing that thought was.

“May I see the originals?” He held out his hand as if I carried the notes next to my heart or something.

I stood up and fumbled in my desk drawer. I didn’t usually use my desk drawers for anything but dumping unwanted mail. I suppose these qualified.

Leo put on reading glasses and set his mouth in an even straighter, grimmer line if that was possible. He read the two of them three times before he looked up.

“They don’t mention why you deserve to die,” he said. “As you say, you’ve been out of the public eye for a decade at least. What have you stirred up recently?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. Seriously. I keep pretty much to routine here. Pay my bills, say hello as needed to the neighbors, feed the dog.”

Leo glanced over at Ozzy, who half-opened his eyes and thumped his tail agreeably. Everyone was Ozzy’s friend. It could be annoying.

“Anything at all?”

I frowned. “I have something in mind, but I haven’t done it yet.”

Leo didn’t say anything. He was good at that.

“Really, the only thing I’ve done recently is start to think about investing in some property near here. There’s talk about rebuilding the only hotel and restaurant within thirty miles. It went out of business a few years ago when the owners retired and sold to some New Yorker who promptly went bankrupt in the middle of trying to make the place look like New York. It could bring in some jobs and money, but I wouldn’t want it done stupidly with some new development company that goes bust. I only got as far as asking Lane to look into pulling out some principal from my savings if I thought it might pan out. But people around here want the hotel back. No one local would be threatening me. Actually, if they did, they’d probably just come after me with a shotgun. There’s plenty of those around here.”

“Nothing else?”

“Jesus. I live by myself and I keep things quiet. Haven’t done television or a movie in years, and paparazzi aren’t likely to track me out here to watch me buy my groceries or split firewood.” My head was starting to hurt. I took a deep breath. “I’m pretty inoffensive nowadays.”

The old landline phone with the loud ring made me jump. I didn’t get a lot of calls.

“Hello?” I relaxed. My most constant caller was Lane and even she kept it to once or twice a month usually. This must be one of those calls.

Yeah, it was her.

“You’re about to have a visitor.” She sounded a little tense.

“Leo is already here. No problem.” Or not much of one. I was already a little twitchy from his presence, but I’d get over it once I got used to someone around.

“I’m glad, but I don’t mean a bodyguard. I suppose I don’t mean a visitor, either.” Lane stopped.

“That clears that up.”

“Don’t take up being a smart-ass again. You don’t have time for it.”

“All right, all right. What the hell is going on?”

“You’re about to have family call on you.”

“What the hell?” I hadn’t spoken to my parents since I turned eighteen and took control of my own money — and sued the hell out of them for taking mine before that. “Head them off!”

“Can’t. Social workers are on your trail.” That’s when I heard the note of real concern. I was in trouble?

“What? I’m way too old for a child care agency and not old enough for senior services.” A little too late, I realized I should have asked Leo to step out of the room.

“Congrats, Gene. It’s a boy.”

 

Get more from Treva at Changeling Press…

Treva Harte has always been an overachiever. She also collects things. First it was degrees. First a B.A. in English, then she decided to go back for a Master’s degree. Not content with that, she added a J.D. Since then she’s added a husband, also an attorney, and two children to her collection. She’s continuing her ways as an overachiever, writing her wonderfully offbeat tales of passion and possibilities — in her spare time.

Visit her website at www.trevaharte.com.

 

 

Fire’s Heat by Kate Steele #boxset #contemporary #cowboyromance #RomanceBooks @changelingpress

Fire's Heat (Duet)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Who knew love could be so dangerous?

A Sure-Fire Cure: Betrayed by a former lover, veterinarian Dean Conlon knows how dangerous love can be. But his attraction to the handsome horse breeder, Scott Whittaker, is immediate and undeniable.

While Dean struggles against his own fears, Scott wages a tempting campaign of seduction. But someone else is in love with Dean and they’ll do whatever it takes, including murder, to claim Dean for their own.

New Year’s Fire: Unless Dean finds a way to mend the breach between his lover and himself, the start of their New Year is going to be anything but happy. Dean hopes to stir the banked embers of their passion and set this New Year’s Eve on fire.

 

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SNEAK PEEK

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Steele
Excerpt from A Sure-Fire Cure

Dean woke to a thumping reverberation in his head. Groggily he sat up. A split second of confusion gave way to understanding when he realized he was hearing pounding at the front door instead of suffering some strange, mutant headache. Grabbing his jeans from the chair near the bed where he’d dropped them earlier, he pulled them on, not bothering with briefs. He buttoned a few of the lower buttons while stumbling to the entrance in the dark.

Switching on the living room lights, he unlocked and opened the door to find a tall, broad-shouldered man waiting. Piercing blue eyes captured his from a ruggedly handsome and tanned face that was framed by thick, wavy and swept back sun-bleached hair.

“Doctor Conlon?” The stranger’s voice was firm, deep and demanding.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got a mare that needs attention. She’s about to drop her first foal, but she’s having trouble.”

“Why didn’t you just call?”

Dean was pinned by that brilliant blue-eyed gaze. “I wasn’t taking the chance that you might put me off. This mare’s valuable, Doc. I don’t want to lose her or the foal.”

“I never ignore calls for help,” Dean answered pointedly. “Let me get the rest of my clothes.” He strode back to the bedroom, quickly finished dressing, then returned to the living room to snatch his car keys out of the ashtray resting on a small side table.

“You won’t need those, I’ll drive.”

Dean glared at the man. “You’ll have to bring me home.”

“Not a problem.”

He saw the determination that sparkled in the man’s eyes and nodded. Wordlessly, he grabbed his medical bag and the pair of boots waiting near it. “Let’s go.”

Following the man out, he secured his door and pocketed his keys. In front of the house stood a fairly new truck, dark and shiny in the glare of the outside light. Dean walked around to the passenger side, climbed in and buckled his seat belt after settling his boots and bag on the floor. He leaned back, closing his eyes. His driver, already in place, started the truck and took off.

Dean took a deep breath, willing his nerves and stomach to calm down. It was disconcerting even under the best of circumstances to be pulled unceremoniously from a sound sleep; his head spun with the tiniest bit of disorientation that always seemed to cling for a few minutes whenever he was abruptly awakened. His body needed time to adjust.

Opening his eyes, his gaze was pulled to the motion of the driver’s hands on the steering wheel. In the glow of the dash lights, Dean watched every move. The hands were large and sinewy, the fingers long, broad and tapered; they looked strong and capable. Dean had a fleeting flash of his dream and felt his belly tighten while a tingle threaded its way down the length of his cock. For one unguarded, sleep-befuddled moment he wondered what it would be like to have those hands gliding over his skin.

He came to with a snap and took himself firmly to task. Dean suddenly realized that he had no idea in whose company he was, or where they were going. Clearing his throat, he managed to rasp out his question. “By the way, who are you?”

“Scott Whittaker. I live about five miles from here, on Westover Road. Don’t know if you’ve been by the place, but I’ve got a few acres and some horses.”

Dean stared. A few acres and some horses? The Whittaker place was large, to say the least. He had no idea exactly how big the spread was, but it was more than just a few acres. The property had rolling hills and flat pasture, all neatly fenced and well groomed. The Whittaker appaloosas were some of the most well known and sought after of the breed, both in the U. S. and abroad. When Dean had bought his veterinary practice from old Dr. Dennison a few months ago, he had read the files left behind, including the Whittaker’s. He had wondered if he’d hear from them, or if they’d take their business elsewhere.

“I’ve been by your place, Mr. Whittaker. You’ve got some beautiful acreage, and from what I’ve seen, some fine-looking horses.”

“Call me Scott.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Scott. You can call me Dean or Doc, I’ll answer to either one.”

“Glad to meet you, too, Dean. Sorry I had to drag you out of bed.”

The rich, low rumble of Scott’s voice traveled over Dean’s nerve endings and made his stomach do another twist. He took a deep, calming breath, only to find it flavored by a subtle scent that intrigued and tickled his nostrils. It was a full-bodied aroma that wove its way into Dean’s nostrils, wafting in to tickle his palate. It smelled faintly of horse, but mostly of man. There was warmth to it and a teasing, almost spicy musk that caused his groin to tighten yet again.

“Not a problem.”

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kate’s love of books started from the moment she read those fateful words: run, Spot, run! It took her awhile to discover that she didn’t have to just read and imagine, but that she could also write stories and so here she is writing romance and loving it. Like chocolate – her ultimate favorite food, with pizza running a close second – writing became addictive. Whether it’s paranormal, contemporary or science fiction about werewolves, otherworldly creatures or the average Joe, she can’t get enough.

As for the everyday details, Kate lives in a turn of the century house located in the midst of Indiana farm country, and is kept company by family, along with demanding dogs, contrary cats and a pair of occasionally sweet, and definitely noisy, lovebirds. When not writing, she reads, is an enthusiastic grower of iris, and a fanatic fan of Japanese manga and anime.

More from Kate at Changeling Press…

Website: http://www.katesteele.com

 

 

 

Tainted Son by Emily Carrington #PNR #UrbanFantasy #LGBT #shifters #GayRomance #NewRelease @changelingpress @CarringtonEmily

Tainted Son (Wolf Schooled 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

ABOUT THE BOOK

Biting is central to werewolf society, from discipline to lovemaking, but David is unable to tolerate this most important cultural sharing. When he falls for a wolf who longs to bite him, he must overcome his past or spend the rest of his life alone.

Liam is a werewolf with the ability to change his human guise. He’s always been able to fool others… until he meets David, who not only sees who he really is but how he truly feels. But Liam has a deep craving, something he continually confuses with rage, and this just might drive David away.

 

Get it now at Changeling Press or Pre-Order for June 7th at retailers

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Emily Carrington

Liam Abernathy volunteered at the medical clinic on the SearchLight Academy campus three days a week. He’d been given a special dispensation so that his required “work with humans” in his second year was modified. All students had to work with humans during their time at the academy, but Liam was allowed to serve magical creatures as well. This duty, however, was limited to six hours a week, and he’d discovered he really liked helping people. He was even considering changing his major from tracker or negotiator, to possibly medic. That would require extra schooling and he didn’t really like that notion, being filled with restless energy to do something with his life, but the idea of helping people tempted him.

He would have probably decided to pursue a medical career already if it wasn’t for his strange psychic ability. Patients and medics alike didn’t appreciate not knowing who exactly they were talking to and Liam’s ability to shift appearances was off-putting.

Today was Frost Thaw. This morning he had volunteered to work an extra shift because he hated this particular werewolf holiday. It happened every thirteenth of February, just a day before the humans’ Valentine’s Day, and in Liam’s opinion it served an equal purpose. If you were mated to someone, it was a time to exchange gifts and get laid. For everyone else, it was a reminder of what they didn’t have — either never possessed — or had had taken away.

For Liam, it was the latter. He’d moved to the US from England when he was nineteen. Two miserable years ago. His lover, who he’d met while the other werewolf was on holiday in London, had stayed with him a total of three months. Then he’d abandoned Liam. They hadn’t made love, knowing this would mean instant mating under the old laws, and Liam should have taken that as a sign that they weren’t meant to be together. Instead, he’d taken the resistance as the other werewolf’s ability to hold himself in check and show good sense.

As it turned out, he was needed today. He couldn’t quite get a sense of what had happened. The campus was locked down tighter than a drum and everyone was told, via text or over the computer in the case of employees, to stay where they were and not venture outside their buildings. If they were between buildings, they were to get to the security office as quickly as possible, where “your ID can be verified.”

Liam had been working since six that morning. Shortly after sunrise, another text message came to everyone: the threat has been neutralized. Only that.

Apparently, the higher-ups, who usually didn’t bother to explain what was going on, were keeping to their pattern. Maybe half an hour later, the casualties started arriving. Most were brought in on gurneys, but there weren’t enough of those and so wheelchairs were being used.

Assigned to comfort waiting victims or families of the same, Liam felt like he wasn’t much use while every medic on duty and those who could be called went to work.

So, he was hanging around, trying to stay out of the way, when the last of the victims were brought in. All of these were ambulatory, shock in their eyes but not too much damage done to their bodies. They were arranged in three rows of chairs and told to wait. Many of those who had been so unceremoniously seated began to talk among themselves. Some were grumbling about being required to sit when there was nothing wrong with them. Others were venting about not being able to keep comforting the ones who had been hurt.

Liam approached, thinking to soothe their nerves. Instead, he caught the scent of blood and followed his nose to where another werewolf sat sandwiched between a dragon of some sort and someone who smelled half Fae. The werewolf’s shirt was torn to expose one arm over the elbow joint. Like all the other walking victims, he’d been wearing something around his neck that left bruises.

Liam crouched in front of him. “Hi there,” he murmured, catching the werewolf’s gaze. “What’s your name?”

“David Holstein.” He looked away. “I’m fine.” He flushed, probably because he’d realized Liam was a werewolf too and could smell a lie. “Not badly hurt.”

That was true, but there were different kinds of hurt.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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.

More from Emily at Changeling Press…

Website: http://emilycarrington.com

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

 

Soft Granite by Megan Slayer #PNR #GayRomance #LGBT #Fantasy #NewRelease @MeganSlayer @evernightpub

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Soft Granite by Megan Slayer

Contemporary Paranormal Gay Romance

From Evernight Publishing

 

Celestial Mates, 5

What happens when the curse goes wrong, but the outcome is all right?

Ryan Rourke wasn’t looking for love when he sat at the foot of the statue, Michael Emerging. The inanimate object listens and he could swear there’s someone beneath the granite. One night he gives into his desire and kisses the statue. It won’t hurt anything, right? It’s just a granite statue—except there’s a soul in the cold rock.

Indio fell in love with Ryan the moment the shy college junior spoke to him the first time. The tenderness, warmth, and sense of humor were everything Indio wanted—if he weren’t trapped in granite. The attraction is stronger than he ever thought possible. Can Ryan’s kiss free him forever? Or will the power of Zeus and the majesty of the curse be too much to overcome? If Indio has his way, he will get his man.

 

Available wherever ebooks are sold!

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Excerpt:

Ryan followed Indio into the building. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what had happened. Indio was real. He glanced back at the empty platform. He’d seen Indio walk off the stone slab and his skin turn from harsh gray to pale peach. If Ryan believed what he’d seen, then the curse story was possible.

He walked into the first life drawing room. Indio darted ahead and snagged one of the robes the models wore between stints posing nude.

Although he should be on his guard, Ryan swept his gaze over Indio’s nude form. For a man who’d spent time in stone, he was still toned. A bit pale, but if he’d been out of the sun, he would be pasty. His inky black hair curled over his forehead. When he glanced back at Ryan, his icy blue eyes sparkled. He strode with purpose, but not swagger. His velvety voice slid down Ryan’s spine and Ryan longed to grab his tight ass. Ryan wanted to gawk at Indio’s package, but also didn’t want to look too eager.

Indio covered his nudity in a robe. “Where do you want to start? I’ll explain everything.”

“I’d like to start by undressing you and licking my way all over your body,” Ryan blurted. Shit. He’d said that out loud.

“For a man who seemed afraid of me, you’re forward. I like it.” Indio sat on one of the drawing benches. “When I convince you I’m real, we will kiss again. You’re a good kisser.”

Convince? He could see a real man who’d stepped out of a statue. There was no need to prove what he’d seen. Still, he should apologize for what he’d said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”

“I don’t mind. I want to kiss and explore you, too.” Indio grinned. “I’ve learned if I want someone, I need to be honest and go for him.”

“You want me? Or someone else?” He needed to stop talking.

“I do.”

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About Megan Slayer:

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library. Find out more about Megan and Wendi at: http://wendizwaduk.com/indexMegan.htm Sign up for the newsletter here: http://ymlp.com/xgjmjumygmgj

Website, Blog, Fan Page, Amazon Author Page, Bookbub, Instagram, Goodreads, and Twitter

 

 

Without You by Ana Raine #BDSM #GayRomance #NewAdult @changelingpress

Without You (Playboys 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Maxwell is kind, hardworking, loyal… and six years older than Bennett. When they met, Bennett was just a kid with a childish infatuation for his mentor. But now Bennett’s an adult, with adult desires. And he’s waited long enough.

Bennett’s worked hard at becoming the man he is. He owes Max — Max is the reason he’s not just another spoiled rich kid. He’s the reason Bennett has a conscience, a sense of self-worth, and doesn’t slip every single thing he thinks he wants into his pockets without paying for it. But now Bennett must figure out what he’s given Max, if anything. And if he’s too late to try for the one thing he really wants — Max’s heart.

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Ana Raine

No one saw him the way I did. Fingers were more than just attached digits from his shapely hands, but instruments that drew pleasure with every movement. When he had nothing, absolutely nothing, he had those fingers. And I envied him.
For all my apparent wealth, I was not bestowed with what he possessed: talent.

How I longed for those fingers to touch my skin the way I knew he wanted to, the way I knew he’d imagined all those nights I had stayed over. But he was a good man, a patient man.

By some small miracle I had recorded his latest melody on my phone when he thought he was alone. The used upright piano his mother had left behind was far too memorable an image for his father to cope with. Maxwell had lovingly ditched his tools and half-worked-on cars to claim the garage space as the piano’s new home.

There was a padlock on the sliding double doors, but I knew he was more worried others would discover he played than that his piano would be vandalized. The kind of crowd he ran in was fiercely loyal, but proud and gritty to a fault.

Considering we lived in a district where some kids rolled in with new Audis when others couldn’t afford shoes, income really served as a divide. His crowd was fight or die. Mine was worried about where to vacation overseas.

It was unfair. It was wrong. And it was the exact reason he wouldn’t take me.
That, and the fact he was six years older, but considering we’d met years ago, when I was just a kid, I could have cared less.

A knock at the door to my en suite interrupted my thoughts and annoyed me because now I had to pause his song. I was careful, very careful, when it came to concealing my feelings, lest they blame a twenty-five-year-old man for diverting my interests. But sometimes, most times, all I wanted was to blow caution to the wind and confess my love for all to see.

“Mr. Hamel.” The knock was polite, ever so practiced with patience. “A package for you.”

I leapt off the bed and practically tore the door from its hinges in my haste. My father’s assistant, Joe, wasn’t the least fazed. He wore casual clothes, jeans and a T-shirt, because even though there were other wealthy families in the area, my parents weren’t overly ostentatious.

“Thanks, and we’ve gone over this. Just Bennett.”

He smiled, his yellowed teeth showing his age, although his eyes were youthful. How many times this man had kept my secrets, I couldn’t be sure, but it was enough that I considered him more of a friend than an employee. My mother felt the same.

My father… well, he didn’t even think kindly of me most days.

“Yes, but we can’t have anyone thinking we’re up to something.” He laughed, passing off the package and straightening the print tie on his black and white T-shirt as though it were detached. “I wasn’t aware you wore Vans?”

I didn’t. Just like I didn’t like “everything” bagels, obscure poetry, and pieces of music that took me so long to transcribe I felt like my hand was going to detach.

“I’m developing a liking.” When the package was in my hands, I felt a strange sense of excitement. Now I had a reason to go see Max. “Thanks.”

“Your mother is dining with the Goldbergs and your father is on his way there after work.”

“Perfect.”

The estate was so large that if I didn’t want to see them for days, I didn’t need to. But knowing they wouldn’t be home and question which friend I was seeing meant I could make it around the lake unnoticed.

Just past the gated community was a dirt road that circled around one of the larger lakes in our township. After I followed it for a few moments, I spilled out into a series of roads that took me either into the downtown area or to the part clouded with obvious disparity.

That’s where I’d find him.

I’d long gotten over the looks my Audi received when I passed the twin lakes to the bar and grill overlooking a small dock, but sometimes I still noticed. I checked my phone just to make sure, but at this time of day, Max was sure to be there. And as pathetic as it was, seeing him was all I cared about. Everyone else could bury their opinions the way they buried happiness and light. He was the one who had saved me, and that meant more than what would happen if my friends knew the truth.

Jean’s BBQ was quiet during the day, but at night during the summer, when the jazz band played outside, it was louder than anything in Twin Lakes. I parked my car and tucked the package in the crook of my arm, as good an excuse as any to be here. It wasn’t even two yet, so if I had any luck, then there wouldn’t be much of a crowd.

“Hey, Bennett, are you here to see Max?”

Josie was a sweetheart, but unfortunately she’d hated school with a passion. So while I’d prepped for the Ivy Leagues, she’d put in job applications. I always made sure to tip her well on nights when I sat and tried to stay out of his way.

“Yes, is he here?”

“In his office.”

Another patron came in at that moment. Finally, some luck. “I can get there.” I smiled, already headed to the stairs leading to a private small office and an outdoor patio overlooking the lake.

She looked like she wanted to stop me, but she was needed at the front and I wasn’t going to listen anyway. They called me his stalker, and sometimes I thought they were right. I knew Maxwell was fully aware of my following him and, had I really been a bother, all he’d have to do is tell me to stop.

So, happy with the knowledge I was going to be seeing him for the first time in days, I bound up the steps with my offering. I heard him talking and at first I thought he was on the phone, but then I heard his friend’s voice.

Logan was obnoxious to me, which drove me crazy because I knew when he was with their friends, he was kind. If he were nicer to me, maybe we wouldn’t divide Maxwell’s loyalty so often.

I didn’t want to interrupt, I really didn’t, but like the irritating insect I was, I wanted to buzz around Maxwell. I smoothed down my hair and knocked.

There was a pause and then, “Come in.”

Logan sighed heavily. “And here’s your bitch.”

“Logan,” Maxwell said in warning before turning to me. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

He never asked me why I was there; he already knew.

 

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More books from Ana Raine at Changeling Press…

 

Ana is still figuring out what she wants to do with her life, although social work seems to be the most likely. Her best friends are a box of chocolate and her kitten who always sit beside her while she writes. When Ana was in high school, she often wrote about the LGBT community, but now her work is less…innocent. Ana enjoys writing anything and everything, including BDSM, dragons, shifters, magic, and more.