SPOTLIGHT: Trash & Treasure by Mikala Ash #futuristic #scifi #LGBTQ #multiplepartners #RomanceBooks @changelingpress

Spotlight: Trash & Treasure (Spaceport Multi-Author 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Award-winning reporter for the Adana Observer Holly Barberossa finds herself once again in her natural environment: hot water.

Antagonizing the Dollavera “brothers,” a family of clones who run the Amalgamated Spaceport Guild of Scavengers, with a series of damaging exposés was bound to drop her into a cauldron of trouble but when a dismembered body, an abused robot and a scared alien entity are thrown into the mix then Holly is really in the soup.

Then there’s Maxim Dollavera who, she hopes, is not like his “brothers.” A man with his smoldering good looks just can’t be a bad guy, can he? Trying for a surprise interview Holly walks in on him and his male lover, Felis Panthera, a randy Leonine with equally attractive attributes. Forget the story, she hopes there’s room for one more in Maxim’s erotic world.

But she can’t forget a story, that’s her problem, and her greatest strength. Will Maxim’s brothers allow Holly to walk all over them in the media without retribution? Will Maxim welcome her into his world when she is trying to destroy his brothers? And just who are the bad guys, really?

These and other questions boil over in Spaceport: Trash & Treasure, a Holly Barberossa erotic adventure.

 

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Praise for Trash & Treasure

“I loved the futuristic and paranormal backdrop to this tale, which added to the fascination of the plot. I look forward to reading the other stories from a variety of different authors of the Spaceport series.”

4 Stars! — Tallyn Porter, JERR

“The addition of a good mystery and intrigue to the plot make Spaceport: Trash & Treasure a fine addition to the Spaceport series.”

4 Angels! — Hayley, Fallen Angels Reviews

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2008, 2019 Mikala Ash

I need a beer.

With an emphatic click, Holly Barberossa snapped off her smartcam while K. Dollavera was still flapping his jaws, the bombastic Guild executive ever eager to have the last word. Asshole!

It had been a helluva day. She’d lost her cool and she knew it. Vinnie would gripe about it in the morning, give her the old lecture about getting more with sugar than… hell, she couldn’t remember how that homily ended even though she’d heard it a thousand times.

I need a beer.

The Haze was only ten minutes away. She could almost taste the amber fluid, not to mention the plate of ribs she’d have to go along with it. The image of her favorite meal, dripping with that mouth watering Altaran sauce the cook at the Haze used, filled her mind and worked its magic on her salivary glands. Her empty stomach gave a sustained and hopeful cheer.

She hadn’t stopped for lunch, running from one end of Adana to the other; interviewing idiots and assholes, fending off the groping hands of hopeful pedestrians trying to cop a feel, being kidnapped and fucking led around blindfolded by amateurs on the run (as if they really thought I couldn’t figure out where they took me, geeze! ), gassed by a flatulent Fedoran, given the cold shoulder by the fucking head of ‘Port Security (I’ll put her on a fucking spit and roast her slow), and to top it off that fucking asshole Dollavera trying to wheedle out of not spilling the beans about the gang war brewing right under his and his goddamn brothers’ fucking noses (brothers, there’s a misnomer for you, fucking brothers my ass, fucking clones).

Clones. She took a deep and sustained breath. Good looking clones, sexy clones who boiled her juices every time she was within ten meters of their athletic bulk. Bastards.

She ordered her thoughts and skipped through the interview with Riz Gitto, the retired head of ‘Port Security and CEO of Adana’s newest private security firm. She could tell he wanted her badly, his pale gray eyes undressing her six times during the five minutes she talked to him. He wasn’t bad looking for an old guy and would be a useful contact, so she’d fluttered her dark lashes back at him and deflected his request for a date with the usual stop kidding around, I’m working line and jumped into the interview with that asshole K. Dollavera. At least Riz hadn’t made a grab for her tits.

Exactly why she let Dollavera get under her skin she couldn’t fathom. It wasn’t just that he was a slimy asshole. No doubt it had something to do with the fact that she’d dated (a couple of times) his “brother” Zweep, the Sentient Resources Controller of the family monopoly, the Amalgamated Spaceport Guild of Scavengers. She’d dumped Zweep at the first inkling of his suspicious business dealings. No way could she compromise her journalistic standards by seeing the man at the center of what could be the biggest scandal in Adana history. The fact that she let him go not ten minutes after she met their “brother” Maxim might, she conceded, have had something more to do with it other than being a breathtaking coincidence.

Maxim, the New Year’s Eve hero who had risked his life to save others from a terrible disaster, was something special. There was a guy who knew how to boil the juices, and what made him yummier was that he didn’t even know he did it.

The thought of Maxim being caught up in a shady family business was giving her sleepless nights. He’d been away, supposedly scavenging, for the last month, more likely avoiding the hundreds of fans attracted to his celebrity, so she hadn’t been able to talk to him about it. Not that they were on speaking terms yet; he probably didn’t know she even existed.

I’ll have to change that little detail.

If nothing else, her publicly nailing his two brothers would bring her into his orbit soon enough. What worried her was that Maxim seemed smarter than his “brothers,” and even in the brief moments she saw them interact, they seemed to defer to him. Her worst fear was that he was actually in charge of the operation while posing as a loner, supposedly scavenging the asteroid belt for junk. It would be the perfect cover, playing the dirt smeared grunt collecting trash while secretly pulling the strings behind the ‘Port Authority.

There was a tug at her trouser leg. A grubby face with enormous eyes and a mess of yellow hair looked up and gave her a gap toothed smile.

“Hello, sweetie,” Holly said. “Got something for me?”

The little angel, one of Adana’s many corridor kids, nodded and cupped a tiny hand near her mouth. Holly knelt down beside her and turned her head, brushing aside her raven hair so the little girl could whisper in her ear.

Holly’s heart jumped at the message. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said. “How much?”

The girl put up three fingers, indicating there were two others involved in the chain of observers that had brought her this longed-for news. Holly dropped four credits into her small palm and was rewarded with openmouthed astonishment. She always paid more than the going rate. It guaranteed preferment in the Adana rumor mill.

So, Maxim Dollavera had returned. He was in customs at this very moment and if she hurried she’d catch him.

And then what? She bit her bottom lip and snapped shut her oversized equipment bag. I have no idea, but I’ll think of something. I always do.

 

More from Mikala at Changeling Press …

Aussie Mikala Ash lives a hectic double life, mild-mannered training & development consultant by day… wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. “For me, burning the candle at both ends is not such a terrible problem; I’m having too much fun!”

Catch up with Mikala on Facebook: www.facebook.com/mikala.ash#!/mikala.ash.9.

 

 

 

Hidden Oaks by Ana Raine #ActionAdventure #boxset #RomanceBooks #PNR #shifters #Gay #LGBT @changelingpress

Hidden Oaks (Hidden Oaks 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

The Secret of Hidden Oaks: While working on his Master’s degree in psychology, Carson is offered an internship at a private research hospital. But Harbor Oaks hides a dark secret. His patients are Changelings, shape shifters, being held against their will, and Carson soon discovers he’s really the subject of the scientist’s experiments. His only hope of escape is Tate, a shy, quiet doctor with an agenda all his own.

The Secret of Harbor Springs: Carson and his mate Tate team up with Gaven and Lily to escape Federal agents who are trying to bring them back to Hidden Oaks. Carson holds an unusual power over other Changelings — a power the Federal task force charged with rounding up Changelings will go to any ends to make their own.

Liberate: Carson and Tate have been running for months, trying to evade the JIA so they don’t end up lab specimens for the ruthless organization. With their future on the line, Carson realizes the most important part of his life will forever be his mate, Tate, but how can he trust a man who never tells him the whole truth?

 

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or preorder for October 18th at retailers

   

 

Praise for The Secret of Hidden Oaks

“Ana has a pretty good imagination and can spin a wonderful story with it. It caught my attention from the start and kept my attention all the way to the end.”

— Lisa, MM Good Book Reviews

 

“If you like mysterious conspiracies and weird goings-on, if you enjoy reading about men who have a lot to hide and those who hunt them, and if you’re looking for a fun story with some dark secrets around shifters, then you will probably like this short story.”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews

 

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Ana Raine
Excerpt from The Secret of Hidden Oaks

“They are not human,” Dr. Kline explained.

“You are delusional,” I said, taking a step away from Dr. Kline, but unable to stop looking at the young woman. I was sure my vision was playing tricks on me, because the young woman’s arms were gone and in their place were fur-covered legs. Her dress split down her back and as she howled in agony, I saw her entire body was quickly being covered in fur. Her screams were over soon.

Instead of looking at a young woman, I was staring at a dark feline. I thought it was a jaguar. “W-what…”

“All of the patients here are a danger to society and to themselves,” Dr. Kline explained, hitting the red button again so the lights went out, leaving only natural light. Before my eyes, the fur receded back into the jaguar’s body and flesh began to cover her legs and back.

“What are they?”

Dr. Kline smiled and pressed the color button before touching my shoulder lightly. “We call them Changelings.”

* * *

My hands were still shaking, my knees knocking against each other as I fidgeted in the chair in front of Dr. Kline’s desk. What was wrong with them? What was wrong with me? Surely, that was some sort of trick and that young woman really hadn’t transformed into a jaguar? All lies…

“Have you decided?” Dr. Kline asked softly, as he pushed the two boxes toward me.

Stay or run away? Both options were equally unappealing. The drug he wanted to give me that would erase my memory would probably only work as long as I didn’t have any triggers. How could I forget when there were animals everywhere to remind me?

A knock on the door made me twitch. I turned to see the heavy oak door being pushed open. I was afraid of who was going to enter, not sure if a patient was able to escape out of their crisis stabilization unit and was going to come charging at me. Maybe instead of erasing my memory, they were really just going to erase me.

“Ahh, Dr. Tate.” Dr. Kline stood up and went around the side of the desk. I leaned away from him and I was sure he saw, but he just pursed his lips together and didn’t remark. “This is Dr. Tate, Carson. He’s one of our leading doctors, although these days he spends more time in our research department.”

“Hello. This is the new intern, Carson, was it?”

His voice made my back tingle. I focused on the desk, knowing if I looked at Dr. Tate I probably wouldn’t fare well. His voice was smooth and confident, the exact kind of man I preferred.

The way he’d said my name was already enough for my stomach to begin pooling with heat. I couldn’t keep staring at the same lines in the oak desk. Slowly, I looked up at the new doctor.

My breath hitched. He was tall, towering over Dr. Kline, who already towered over me. He had soft blonde hair, several shades lighter than my dark brown. His blue eyes were clear and focused on me, his lips upturned in a marvelous smile. But his body is what really got me going. He wasn’t wearing a lab coat, but instead dark pants and a crisp blue sweater that exposed just enough of his creamy skin at the base of his neck.

I should’ve known looking at him would be dangerous.

“Please tell me you are planning on staying with us?” Dr. Tate asked softly, as he crossed the room to me and took my hand. My hand was rather small inside of his. I felt trapped.

My mind went blank. “I’ll stay.”

Dr. Tate’s jaw locked, but Dr. Kline was the one who clapped his hands and exclaimed, “Excellent.” He grabbed the contract out of the box and shoved a pen in my hand.

I tried to scan the document, but although Dr. Tate had released my hand, he was still standing dangerously close. I could feel his eyes on me, and wished he would undress me instead. Shuddering, I passed my movement off as a twitch and signed the contract.

Dr. Kline scooped up the contract and placed it in a folder in his filing cabinet.

“So… what exactly am I supposed to do?”

“Dr. Tate is going to be your mentor. When you go into the patients’ rooms, he will be there to make sure everything goes well.” Dr. Kline waved a hand at the handsome man standing beside me. I almost felt a sense of possessiveness emanating from Dr. Tate. “He is a scientist, now, as I said. You will have time enough to shadow one of our psychologists here so don’t worry about getting your necessary experience. But we have a… more pressing use for you.”

My chest tightened. What kind of use?

Dr. Kline seemed to have read my mind. “We would like you to teach them how to be human, in a manner of speaking.”

“How?”

“Simply by being, although I am sure you will come up with some techniques and hypothesis on your own. The most important thing you must remember is to never wear or carry anything red. Do you understand?”

I remembered the young woman convulsing on the floor. “Yes.”

“We would like to let the Changelings go back to society, but in order for that to happen, we need someone who has not been working with them to grasp what is different about them from humans. I expect you’ll keep a journal.”

“Of course.” They wanted me to document changes in behavior? This internship kept sounding stranger.

Dr. Kline stood up so I followed suit. He started to extend his hand toward me but then withdrew it on second thought. “Please come to me if you need anything.” He smiled at me and then gave Dr. Tate one experimental glance before going to his large bay window and turning his back to me.

“Come with me.” Dr. Tate nodded toward the door. Something about him was strangely protective. Just by standing near him I felt my fear about Hidden Oaks subsiding. God, I bet he was so good in bed.

Silently, I followed Dr. Tate, hesitating when we approached the elevator.

“Don’t worry,” he said kindly, “We’ll be going to the top floor where the lab is.”

“Why?” I managed to ask.

“My office is up there.” He grasped my wrist, pulling me onto the elevator with him. When he released me, I had to resist the urge to reach back out for him…

 

More from Ana 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.

If you’d like to follow her, here is her blog site: http://anarainebooks.blogspot.com.

The Master Arrives by Julia Talbot #BDSM #romancebooks #NewRelease #LGBT @juliatalbot

2927

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Kane loves his job waiting tables at Club Endless, but even though he’s a sub, he never dates the Doms from work. A bad relationship and a tendency to rush into things has left him cautious, which is why he’s so surprised at his reaction to Master Jess.

Jess is bored and a little jaded, thinking maybe he might let his membership to Club Endless lapse. Then he sees Kane in a whole new light, asking the young sub out on a date away from the club. Kane doesn’t want to rush into things, but they seem meant to be — if they can just get past Kane’s fear of picking the wrong man.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

 

or pre-order at retailers for September 27th

 

   

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Julia Talbot

Jessup Halliday felt… old. Far older than his thirty-six years.

The entry to Club Endless was still timeless black and chrome and the hostess who took his membership card was young and sleek in a black sequined sheath and heels. Her hose even had seams up the back, marching in a straight line. Perfect in every way.

He was a founding member of Club Endless, and while it had changed with the times, it was as amazing as it had been when it first opened, while managing to stay current.

So why was he feeling… jaded?

He sighed. Maybe he needed to let his membership go dormant for a while. Write it off as a contribution or something. Take a long vacation in Italy. He loved Rome. Or maybe the coast.

Mmm. Italy. Yes, that was just the ticket.

He knew he’d hit on the perfect idea after the hostess slid his membership card, then headed for the dining room.

“Good evening, Master Halliday.” The server, one of his favorites, led him to a table. “Italian tonight.”

“Yum. Northern or Southern?”

“You have several choices. Shall I tell you, or would you prefer to read the menu?” Kane held out his chair.

“Oh, I think you should tell me. I do love your voice.”

Kane blinked, then beamed at him. “Let me get your water, and I’ll be pleased to recite them.”

It amazed Jess, really, how little it took to make people happy. He needed to remember that, and stop wallowing in his ennui.

Kane was back in a flash, laying out his water and silverware, which was all polished impeccably. “There now. Are you ready, Sir?”

“I am.” He sat back, watching Kane’s mouth as he spoke,

“Very good. For primi, we have risotto al funghi, polenta with caramelized fennel and onions, or cacio e pepe. Do you need any ingredient lists?”

“Mmm, no. They all sound lovely.”

“They all smell amazing.” Kane chuckled. “For secondi, we have veal saltimbocca, bistecca Fiorentina, or baccala alla vicentina, served with an arugula salad and garlic toasts.”

So, rice with mushrooms, corn grits with fennel, or pasta with oil and pepper. Normally didn’t indulge in veal, so it was the steak or the salted cod cooked with milk and anchovies… Hmm. “I’ll have the risotto and the baccala, I think.”

“Brave! I haven’t been able to make myself try the fish.”

He tilted his head, almost certain he was being flirted with, which was new from Kane. “You’ll have to try mine.”

“Oh!” Kane blushed. “Thank you, Sir. Let me get that order in for you. Do you care for soup or grissini?”

“The breadsticks, please. I went without lunch today.” Suddenly the club seemed shinier. Not new, and not better than Italy, but he did like when a beautiful boy batted eyelashes at him. He truly did.

“Wine? There’s a lovely Chianti, or a pinot grigio.”

“The pinot grigio, I think, for the fish.”

“Right away.”

He didn’t bother to ask about the wines. Their sommelier, Grant, was something of a genius.

Jess closed his eyes, listening to the gentle clink of flatware on plates, the soft music that never managed to make anyone raise their voices to be heard over it. The murmur of conversation ran over him like water, the tables arranged so no voice ever carried too far or intruded on another table.

It was damnably lonely.

“Jess! Hey, buddy. Mind if I sit?” Deacon Calhoun stood next to his table when he opened his eyes, the big Dom looking very snazzy in gray slacks and a blue silk shirt.

“Not at all.” He liked Deacon very much. “No Geoff tonight?”

“He’s preparing for a scene. We’re giving a spanking demo tonight.”

“Ah. No dinner for him.”

“Exactly. He’s having some quiet time and some broth, but I want some red meat, I think.”

“By all means, then. I hear there’s steak Florentine.”

Deacon sank into a chair. “What little bird told you that?”

“Kane is on tonight.”

Head tilting, Deacon stared at him for long seconds. “Have you taken him as a lover recently?”

“What? No. No, in fact I was thinking of taking a hiatus, maybe a vacation. Paris. Rome. I feel… worn.”

“Oh.” Deacon sat back. “I’m sorry. Something about your expression when you mentioned Kane…”

“Master Deacon. How are you this evening?” Kane handed Deacon a menu. “Here are the specials tonight. May I bring you some water?”

“Please.” Deacon smiled at Kane, and was given a gentle curl of lips in return.

Huh. Maybe he was getting flirted with. Kane certainly didn’t offer to read the menu to Deacon.

“Be right back.” Kane gave him a smile that was completely different, and Jess couldn’t help but feel it deep in his belly.

He’d been so… disinterested in everything, and he couldn’t have imagined it would be someone so familiar to him who might spark that bit of desire. Not that Kane wasn’t lovely. He drew glances with his silver gilt hair and gray eyes, his form lithe, almost delicate. Men, and probably women, would write poetry about such a beautiful boy.

“You know he’s between Masters, right?”

 

More from Julia at Changeling Press …

Julia Talbot lives in the great Southwest, where she’s embraced hot and cold running rodeo, cowboys, and everything from meat and potatoes to the best Tex-Mex. A full time author, Julia believes everyone deserves a happy ending, so she writes about love without limits, where boys love boys, girls love girls, and boys and girls get together to get wild, especially when her crazy paranormal characters are involved.

Website: http://juliatalbot.com

Blog: http://caferisque.blogspot.com

 

 

Schoolboy Blues by Kiernan Kelly #ContemporaryRomance #NewRelease #GayRomance #LGBTbooks #RockStar @changelingpress @KiernanKelly

School Boy Blues (Set In Stone Multi-Author 6)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox

 

Once best friends, Angelo and Vincent parted after a night of hot passion and conflicting emotions.

Rock star Angelo knows a good thing when he’s got it, and what he has on stage with his band now is as good as it gets. He clings to that knowledge during the times when he longs for the warmth of a lover in his heart and his bed.

Vincent has grown adept at ducking his mother’s probing questions about grandbabies, while dedicating his life to nailing perps to the jailhouse wall in criminal court. His family and his career bring him satisfaction, but he dares not pursue a relationship that would complete his life.

Could the music that led to their parting a decade ago be the bond that brings these two lovers back together again?

 

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Praise for School Boy Blues (Set in Stone)

“If you like rock stars and tough prosecutors who share a weak spot for each other, if you enjoy the “magic” of the 1970s, and if you’re looking for a read that is as short as it is hot, occasionally funny, and just a little suspenseful toward the end, then you will probably like this novella.”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kiernan Kelly

Rush groaned, and banged his phone against his forehead a few times in frustration. It would leave a mark, but he didn’t care. Stage makeup was very forgiving. “Fine. We’ll do it, but no interviews. Nobody backstage. No VIPs, no reporters, no fans, nada. I mean it, Bernie. If I hear one fucking question or see one camera, I’ll walk. Understand?”

Bernie’s voice dropped an octave. “Sure, sure. Excellent. I knew you’d see reason. Okay. You fly out on the third, and I’ve booked the band the top floor at the Marriott. The rest of the company will be staying at a Quality Inn. I’ve rented a bus for them, and a limo for you guys. Two shows, Friday and Saturday nights. Any special requests for the hotel rooms or the green room at the Palace?”

“Not from me. Ask the boys what they want.” Rush was done, and just wanted to hang up and go strum his guitar for a while. That always calmed him down, let him think. If he was lucky, the music would flush the sliminess of Bernie’s voice from his ears.

“You got it. It’s going to be an awesome weekend. Ciao.”

Rush hung up without saying good bye. Ciao. As far as Rush knew, Bernie couldn’t even spell ciao. In Bernie’s little pointy head, it was probably spelled “chow.” Bernie didn’t like Italian food, and the closest he’d ever gotten to Italy was when the band dragged his ass to the San Gennaro Feast in Little Italy in New York last September. Pretentious bastard.

He grabbed Cleaver, his acoustic guitar, and flopped on to the sofa in the living room. Cleaver was a sweet maple Gibson he’d bought back in 1962 when he was still in high school, and paid for it with the money he’d made working a paper route. He remembered the first time he saw it hanging in one of the windows at the Woolworths on Main Avenue in Passaic. He thought then it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and still did. Even though he wailed on a Fender onstage, the axe never felt as good in his hands as good ol’ Cleaver did.

There were a lifetime of memories scarring the neck and body. Every nick and scratch had a story to tell. Like the little ding next to the bridge, for example. He remembered exactly how and when it’d been put there — by a carelessly tossed shoe on the night he lost his virginity to Vincenzo Genovese.

A smile lifted his lips even now, as he ran his finger over the dimple in the otherwise smooth wood. God, they’d been so young, their bodies so hard and eager. It’d been over almost as soon as it began, but he could still almost feel the sharpness of his orgasm, how it had ripped through his body like white lightning, searing every part of him. His cock stirred as the old, aching need surfaced again.

And deflated just as quickly as the other memory he associated with Vinnie Genovese surfaced. He rubbed his jaw as if he could still feel Vinnie’s hard fist connecting with it, loosening two teeth.

You were both seventeen, and confused about who you were and what you were feeling. Him more than you. How long are you gonna hold on to that grudge?

Shut up, he told the needling voice in his head. He didn’t want introspection right now. He wanted escape.

Trying to push the negative feelings away, his fingers began to strum the strings. It took several moments before he realized he recognized the tune, although he hadn’t played it in years. It was Schoolboy Blues, the song he’d written for Vinnie. The lyrics came back to him with the melody, and he began to sing, low and sweet.

“Your hands play my body like I play my guitar, drawing out a melody my heart sings; no matter where we are, near or far, I will always love the magic loving you brings.”

He stopped playing, silencing the guitar by pressing his palm over the strings, and ended the song with a wry snort. The lyrics were amateurish, syrupy high school crap, sure, but they still made his throat tighten and brought a curious burning to his eyes.

“Fuck you, Bernie. Why Jersey? Why now?”

 

More from Kiernan at Changeling Press …

Kiernan’s stories of gay romance envelop diverse themes ranging from paranormal to fantasy, and science fiction to contemporary romance. She has fifteen novels currently in print and ebook, and over eighty shorter works available in both mediums. Contrary to popular opinion, she is not a zombie. Yet.

You can find Kiernan on her website at http://www.kiernankelly.com/ or on Facebook or at Cafe Risque http://caferisque.blogspot.com, or you can e-mail the author.

 

 

Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’ by Mychael Black #DarkFantasy #NewRelease #GayRomance #LGBT #PNR @changelingpress

Can't You Hear Me Knocking (Set In Stone Multi-Author 4)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

When Jacob’s eccentric mentor Malcolm dies, Jacob finds himself falling down the proverbial rabbit hole. Lucid dreams keep him questioning his own sanity. When he meets Christian, things only get stranger.

Is Christian real, or is Malcolm just trying to drive Jacob insane from beyond the grave?

 

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Praise for Can’t You Hear Me Knocking (Set in Stone) “What a ride! If you like stories with lots of supernatural mystery, if a young man trying to decide what’s real and what’s a dream is your thing, and if you’re looking for a read with twists and turns that might just turn you completely around, then you might like this short story. ”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Mychael Black

I left the group to their dinner, set the tray on the counter, and tugged out my order book before heading to the next table.

“Hello and welcome to Will’s Bar and Grill,” I stated. I opened up my book and finally looked at the lone diner.

Something about him seemed familiar, though I had no idea why. His light gray eyes drew me in, so much that it took considerable effort to get my brain to function again. I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

He smiled the slightest bit. “Water, please.”

“Any appetizers to start?”

“No, but I’d like to hear your opinion on the steaks.”

No one had asked me that in a long time. Hell, Malcolm had been the first to ever ask at all, five years before he…

No. No way was I heading down that road again.

“The New York Strip is good,” I said.

“But is it your personal favorite?” the man asked, leaning a little, his arms folded on the table in front of him.

“No. Mine is the sirloin.”

He nodded. “The sirloin it is. Rare, please.”

“Sides?”

“Surprise me.”

Okay…

“I’ll have your water out in a moment.”

I tucked my book back into my apron and left his table. I swore I felt his gaze follow me right into the kitchen. After inputting his order into the computer system for the kitchen, I fixed his water. Then I grabbed the steak sauce and ketchup and headed for his table. Instead of observing his surroundings or a cell phone like most people, he stared straight at me. It was unnerving, to say the least.

“Your dinner will be up soon,” I said as I set his water and the condiments down.

“Thank you, Jacob.”

I froze and met his gaze. Something about the way he said my name made every hair stand on end. His tone held a touch of intimacy, of personal knowledge about me, that sent a chill through my body.

“You’re welcome,” I muttered.

Thankfully, another table waved me over. I excused myself and returned to my duties. When his food came out, I asked another server to deliver it on the pretense that I was with a large group.

When he left, I nearly dropped the folder with the check. His bill had only been a hair over twenty bucks, but he’d tucked in a fifty and disappeared.

“So did you get a good tip from Mr. Creepy?” my friend, and fellow server, Ellen asked when I returned to the register to cash out his check.

I held up the fifty and the check.

“Holy shit! What did you do to get that?”

“Fuck if I know,” I said with a shrug. I finished and started my sidework. “Just glad he’s gone. He was weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Ellen replied before she left to do her own sidework.

I got mine done fairly quickly and told her goodnight before heading out. The cool night air helped me relax after a hectic shift. Hands tucked into my light jacket, I walked the two blocks to my apartment building. The city streets had emptied, for the most part, with only a few stragglers here and there. I ignored them and started up the outside steps to the second floor of my building. Another man came down from the landing, and I nearly bumped into him.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Long night.”

“That’s quite all right, Mr. Hewitt.”

I snapped my head up and stared into very familiar gray eyes. “How…”

He smiled. “I am not without my wiles.”

I had nowhere to go, and I didn’t trust this guy as far as I could throw him. I started backing down the steps. No way was I gonna go to my door so he could see which one it was.

“Look, man. I don’t know you. I don’t know what this is about. But I swear to God, if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call the cops.”

He sighed. “Jacob… come now. Is this any way to treat an old friend?”

“Excuse me?” I blinked and stopped halfway down, still facing him. “I’ve never seen you before tonight!”

“On the contrary, you have,” he said. “But I will leave you be for now. We shall meet again.”

I stumbled out of the way as he passed me. He didn’t look back, and I watched until he rounded a corner nearly a block away. Then, only then, did I run up the steps to my door. The second I got the door unlocked, I practically jumped inside and locked it — including the deadbolt and chain.

“No fucking way,” I muttered, backing away.

A shiver snaked its way up my spine. But a deeper part of me couldn’t help but be intrigued. The guy was handsome. Long pitch black hair, a toned build, and those damned eyes…

 

More from Mychael at Changeling Press …

Myc has been writing professionally since 2005, solo and with Shayne Carmichael. Genres include pretty much anything (no steampunk yet), though Myc is well known for paranormal stories. When not writing, Myc is usually playing PC games, reading, editing, watching movies and shows on Netflix and Amazon, or spending way too much time on Facebook.

 

 

Like a Thief in the Night by E.D. Parr #GayRomance #NewRelease #LGBT

Like a Thief in the Night-3DeReader.png

 

Gorgeous, businessman, Saxon Dearing buys a pied de terre in the city where he works. Only using the place on three nights, he goes home to his beachside house for the rest of the week. At thirty-two, immersed in his work, he doesn’t know he’s lonely until delicious, twenty-five year old Jon Palmer literally drops into his life during a thunderstorm.

Artist Jon struggles to sell his paintings from a tiny studio, and works in a city gallery to pay his rent. As the two men fall in love, Jon can’t overcome the idea his lack of success is a barrier to telling handsome, wealthy Saxon how he feels.

When his boss offers him a dangerous way of making money, Jon must make a choice.

Will he risk telling Saxon he loves him or let his lack of confidence lead him astray and away from the man who loves him, too?

 

Today we welcome, Saxon Dearing one of the heroes

 

I’ll make this interview fun…

 

Saxon, If you were a dessert, what would you be?

 

(Laughs) A dessert … well I know Jon likes ginger cookies, but that’s not really a dessert, huh? Okay I know, lemon meringue pie, yeah.

 

What do you do when you need to blow off steam?

 

If I’m in the city I go to the gym and beat the crap out of a punch bag. If I’m at the beach house, I run on the beach, although I do keep to the wet sand and I like to wear my iPod

 

What do you look for in a man?

 

Nothing now I’ve met Jon. He’s perfect for me. I love him. He’s intelligent, creative, good-looking, sexy, sweet … I could go on all day about him.

 

What is in your refrigerator right now?

 

In the city, steak, lettuce, cherry tomatoes … a half pack of beer, what else … a red pepper. There’s not that much because Jon and I are going up to the beach house tonight.

 

What’s on your bedroom floor?

 

In the city, my old baseball bat, that’s under the bed.

 

What do you wear in bed?

 

Depends what I’m doing (smiles) so it ranges from a t-shirt and boxers to nothing … (smiles again) mostly nothing now

 

Light on or off?

 

Either, both

 

Chocolate or vanilla?

 

Is that for licking off Jon’s abs? Has to be chocolate.

 

What’s your biggest fear?

 

Oh, well, I have to think about that for a second. I could say spiders or losing on the stock market but truth is it’s losing Jon’s love. It would break my heart.

 

What is your most treasured possession?

 

After the last question … Jon’s not my possession but I treasure him. If it has to be a possession, then it’s a drawing Jon gave me … he’s an artist.

 

What’s your favorite outfit?

 

I have some old faded levis and beaten up leather boots that I rely on when I’m not in suits. I usually throw on a t-shirt and my battered leather jacket over the top. I have to wear suits for work. I like my black one best.

 

What do you like to see Jon dressed in?

 

Anything he likes, (his eyes mist a little) although I do like him in the tux he wore for our wedding, and in his ripped jeans, because there’s a frayed bit high on his thigh…

 

Do you have a favorite music track?

 

My taste and surprisingly Jon’s too, is eclectic. We’re listening to old Coldplay stuff right now … love them.

 

Tell the readers something you’ve never told anyone before.

 

(Grins) What? You mean spill a secret? You do. (Takes a deep breath) I have nothing for you, nope not a thing…

 

We’ll make that the last question. Thanks for visiting. Where are you off to next?

 

(Smiles) You know that’s another question, right?

 

We have a story teaser for you from, Like a Thief in the Night

Jon struggled into a sitting position. “What time is it?”

Saxon shook his head. “I don’t know, but maybe nine or ten.” Saxon sat up.

“Hell, not ten please.” Jon leaped from the bed and dashed to his backpack where he snatched a smartphone from the front zipper pocket. He ran his hand through his sleep-ruffled hair. It stood on end at the front. He cast a glance at Saxon. “It’s nine. I start at nine-thirty. I’m sorry, I have to dash.”

“It’s okay. Will I make you a coffee while you dress?”

“Thanks for thinking of me, but I’ll make a cup at the gallery.” He ran into the bathroom and came out moments later in the jeans and sweater Saxon had seen him wearing the night before. He dropped a pair of boots to the floor and zipped up his fly as he pushed bare feet into them.

Saxon gazed at the spectacle. He got out of bed and walked rapidly to the kitchen remembering Jon’s jacket was draped over the back of a chair. He brought it to Jon.

Jon rewarded him with a smile. “Thank you. Is it okay to leave my pajamas in the bathroom?” He slipped his jacket on and grabbed up his backpack.

To Saxon’s surprise and delight, Jon kissed him by the side of his mouth.

“See you tonight. Thank you so much.” He strode to the door, opened it, and left.

Saxon went to the bathroom and picked up Jon’s pajamas. He hung them from a hook on the door and dragged on his robe from the other hook. Jon’s socks lay in a damp bunch on the floor next to the shelf housing towels. His boots must leak. Concern furrowed his brow. He put the socks in the laundry hamper. They can go in the wash. I’ll get coffee first. I’ve missed early trading. Perhaps it doesn’t matter this once. Saxon hummed as he heaped coffee grains into the filter. An unfamiliar deep happiness bubbled in him.

Copyright E. D. Parr 2019, Evernight Publishing

 

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Dire Wolves (Box Set) by Cynthia Sax, Lena Austin, and Shelby Morgen #boxset #PNR #BBW #interracial #werewolves #shifters #vampires #LGBTbooks @changelingpress @CynthiaSax @Lena_Austin

Dire Wolves (Box Set) (Dire Wolves Multi-Author 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Blind Spot by Cynthia Sax: Years ago, Pavel lost his eye, three members of his pack and his position as alpha. Can Maggy help him find a reason to live again?

Whiteout by Shelby Morgen: Zan gives John a reason to want to live as a man again. But before he can make that kind of promise, he’s got unfinished business to take care of.

Silence by Lena Austin: Noel Miller, a vampire with a few scars of his own, wants to be more than Cam’s sign language interpreter. If only the werewolf will let him into his life — and heart.

White Heat by Shelby Morgen: Heather Grant’s got far too much experience working with stubborn males. She figures it would serve both Alphas right if their pride blows their cover. But someone’s got to salvage the mission.

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

or pre-order for August 9th at:

   

 

PRAISE FOR DIRE WOLVES BOX SET

“…a collection that grabs the reader, takes them on a journey, and ensures some cold showers. Erotic, captivating, and deliciously carnal are how I would describe The Dire Wolves Anthology. It is definitely worth reading, worth adding to one’s reading library, and well worth re-reading.”

— 4 Stars from Nikki, Sensuous Reviews
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Copyright ©2019
Excerpt from Silence by Lena Austin

“Danse Macabre” was a lousy choice for a ring tone, but Detective Cameron Douglas always thought about it when he had the least amount of time to change the ring to something else. The tune was the last he’d ever hear. Cam didn’t know that sad fact, or he’d have changed the ring sooner.

Cam snatched the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open as soon as he saw it was his boss, Lt. Kraynak. “Hey, Mark! You caught me just leaving the mayor’s office.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s voice always sounded nervous, but at that moment, he sounded as squeaky as a girl. Cam always wondered if Mark was as closet gay as Cam himself. “How’d it go?”

Cam sighed. The investigation into the death of the mayor’s secretary, Margaret Lund, was supposed to be kept very quiet and low-key. “We got the blood from her apartment at the lab, looking for DNA. They seem to be consistent with the defensive marks found on her body despite floating around in the St. John’s River for a while. I’ve got a few good leads.” He had to be vague. Cam couldn’t exactly tell his boss he was a werewolf and he’d caught an odd, masculine scent in Margaret’s apartment. He knew any sort of masculine odor didn’t belong in that apartment because Margaret and his mother had been lovers for over twenty years. Not exactly what you want the whole world to know. Mom had been in the closet all her life, and he wasn’t about to out her when she was mourning “Aunt Maggie’s” death. Dad would turn over in his grave, the day care she’d run for fifteen years would close, and her life would be in ruins. What she and Maggie had enjoyed just wasn’t ever going to be public, and that wasn’t admissible evidence anyway.

He could see it now. Him, on the witness stand. “Yes, Your Honor. I’m a werewolf you see, and I sniffed this odor…” He winced, even to himself.

“I don’t like it, Cam. You shouldn’t be on this case. Ms. Lund was your mother’s best friend. You could be called prejudiced in court.” Mark popped another gumball in his mouth. Cam heard it rattle against his teeth before it crackled as he chewed it into oblivion. Mark’d been trying to quit smoking again, and kept a gumball bank on his desk.

“I don’t like it, either, Mark. Where His Honor got the idea I’d be the only detective who could do the job is beyond me.” Cam was in sight of his car at last. The covered parking garage across the street from City Hall was a piece of shit like all the rest of downtown. Half the security cameras didn’t work at the best of times, and the roof leaked whenever it rained. So where was he parked? On the roof. In the rain. Of course. So he was wet. It was Florida. Not like he would melt. He was a werewolf, not a witch, and this wasn’t Hollyweird.

The beep in his ear made him jump, and the caller ID told him it was Mom. “Hey, I’m at my car. Hang on a sec.” Cam flipped over to his mother’s call and sat down on a bench about fifty feet from his car, in the shelter covering the elevator. “Hi, Mom.” He frowned and noticed the hood of his car was slightly ajar. That was odd. He distinctly remembered changing the oil the previous Sunday and slamming the hood closed because he hated working in the hot sun.

He never heard her answer. Hell, he never heard anything except the biggest boom on the planet.

Waking up wasn’t like someone flipped on a light switch. It was more like a lazy Sunday morning when you didn’t have to be anywhere or do anything in particular, so you could roll over and laze in bed. That is, until your bladder or some other bodily need woke you up.

What woke him up was pain. Cam had the worst headache ever, even beyond hangovers and mild concussions from playing rugby. Cam felt like he’d been run over by a semi, too, with a backache from lying in one position too long on top of assorted injuries. Worst of all was the ringing in his ears. Tinnitus, he guessed. Not bad, since Cam had to assume he’d survived that explosion. Hell, he counted himself lucky when he opened his eyes and saw his left leg in bandages, not a cast. If a headache, a bum leg, and a case of tinnitus were all he had to suffer through, Cam was happy.

A nurse peeked in. She saw Cam was awake and smiled at him. Her lips moved, but he couldn’t hear her over the ringing in his ears. She frowned when Cam told her she’d have to speak up, and would she bring him something for the headache and tinnitus? She turned around and walked out without another word. She was back with something she shot into his IV. Whatever it was put him out like a light. Pain, tinnitus, and consciousness all went away at once.

When next Cam could put two words together in a coherent sentence, the clock on the wall and the darkness out the window gave him a clue it was 7:30 PM, not AM. He’d slept away the whole day. Great. Now his ears were sore.

A young man in a lab coat read a book in the corner chair, even though the only light source was the fluorescent above the head of Cam’s bed. The guy’s eyesight must have been superlative. He looked up slowly, and Cam was completely arrested — pardon the pun — by his eyes. They were big, blue and so world-weary Cam wanted to — maybe buy the kid a cup of coffee and give him a sympathetic ear. Then the newcomer smiled, and the world was all sunshine and cheer. The young man tapped on the keyboard of his laptop without taking his gaze off Cam’s face.

Cam moved restlessly under that intense blue gaze that did not in the least match with the smile. Cam opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when the screen on a laptop left on his lap table brightened. He frowned and studied the screen. “Can you read this?” Surprised, Cam nodded without thinking.

The blue-eyed man smiled and nodded. “Good. How’s your tinnitus?” lit up on the screen in a standard IM chat feature of a common website.

“Um… should I answer aloud?” Cam felt suddenly adrift in a strange sea, unsure of himself for the first time since college. Still, he did an internal check, and the buzzing still filled his ears like a thousand crickets on speed. “Yep, still have the crickets.” The realization hit him. “The explosion caused this tinnitus, didn’t it?”

“Yes, Mr. Douglas. Please speak more softly.” The IM kept up easily, and the young man’s hands flew silently but rapidly over the tiny keyboard. Damn, this guy was good.

Oops. Cam wasn’t stupid. He knew that those with hearing issues often spoke too loudly, trying to over-compensate for their loss. He modified his volume. “Um. Sorry.” He clung to the thin thread of hope that the tinnitus was causing his hearing loss, but he knew a bunch of cops who’d neglected ear protection at the shooting range once too often. Tinnitus could be permanent, or worse, the symptom of something much, much worse.

The IM lit up with several lines in rapid succession. “My name is Noel Miller, and I am your ENT therapist.” Now the cheer was gone, and the face serious.

Cam’s heart hammered, and he swallowed to help his suddenly dry mouth. Fear, ice-cold and cruel, raced up his spine. Part of him was grateful he still had painkillers in his system. Deep inside himself, a little kid threw a major temper tantrum, even if he held himself rigidly under control. “I’m deaf, aren’t I?”

 

More from Lena at Changeling Press…

Someone cursed Lena Austin with “may you have a life so full you’ll have many tales to tell your grandchildren.” Lena’s a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She’s been a licensed minister, hairdresser, Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba — she’s got a lifetime of “Research material!”

Hey, why waste these stories on kids who won’t listen anyway? Writing them down is a nice way to spend her retirement. What? You expected an ex-BDSM Mistress to take up crocheting or something? See all her books at http://www.LenaAustin.com.

More from Cynthia at Changeling Press…

Some girls dreamed of knights in shining armor. Cynthia Sax dreamed of dragons, magnificent flying dragons. Being a bloodthirsty little thing, Cynthia usually dreamed of these dragons eating the damsels in distress. Now, she dreams of them doing… ahhh… more pleasurable things.

Cynthia is happily married. Although her hubby has not yet shown any shapeshifting abilities, he does buy her medieval princess costumes to wear around the house. Cynthia’s rather traditional mother-in-law now always calls before visiting. You can learn more about Cynthia by visiting her website at www.CynthiaSax.com, her blog at http://tasteofcyn.com, or email her directly at Cynthia@CynthiaSax.com.

More from Shelby at Changeling Press…

Shelby Morgen loves writing offbeat tales that defy as many rules as possible.

She likes chocolate with her peanut butter, suspense with her romance, and kink with her sex, and she’s always had a hard time keeping science fiction, fantasy and paranormal from mixing with her kink.

Shelby shares her belief in electronic publishing with her longtime friend and partner, Bill, her husband of nearly four decades.