Unicorn Valley by Lena Austin #urbanfantasy @Lena_Austin

Lionel, one of the last Unicorn Valley Gryphons, is forced to choose his mate from among other shifters. What he doesn’t count on is falling in love with the Werebitch Teema, who has a few needs and demands of her own.

Lionel’s foster brother Brolly falls for a shape — and gender — shifting Immortal, and Shadow, the future Unicorn Herd Stallion, loves an Elf.

As if things couldn’t get any stranger, their mercenary Unicorn uncle Jamir is falling in love with both Moontyger and the Dragon Li Chin — at the same time.

Not everyone loves everybody in Unicorn Valley, but they try.

Available in paperback at Amazon

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Lena Austin

There would be no mate for him.

Lionel brooded on that ugly fact from the ledge outside his nesting cave. It was good to be home where the air was clean and the pulse of magic strong, but that didn’t change the fact that he would die, alone.

He folded his long, bare legs until he achieved the meditative pose his foster mother taught him. However, instead of meditating, he put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his hands. The loneliness threatened to overwhelm him.

“Now there’s a dejected fellow!” The familiar voice eased the ache of loneliness. Lionel turned to see his foster brothers Brolly and Shadow make the final few feet of climb to the ledge where he sat. After a lot of masculine back pounding, Lionel invited his brothers inside. They sat on great cushions made dusty by the long months of disuse, but no one cared.

“No luck in finding a Gryphoness, old pal?” Brolly’s human form was of a brawny young man with brown hair and twinkling brown eyes full of mischief.

Lionel shook his head, and felt his shoulders droop with despair. Brolly put a comforting hand on his arm. Shadow looked on sympathetically, his horn knob flashing silver in the morning light.

Lionel shook his golden brown hair out of his eyes. “No, no luck. It was horrible outside our magical home! You’d think in the sky, and as high as I fly, I’d be safe.” He pointed to a wound on his shoulder. “They’ve become more proficient with their arrows than your father estimated. Everywhere, the evidence exists Gryphons once were Outside, in statues and artwork on cloth they hang from their homes.” He pounded his fist into his hand in frustration. “But no real, live Gryphons anywhere!”

Brolly put his hand on Lionel’s clenched fist. “Will you let me look at the wound?” As a healer, Brolly was always courteous enough to ask if his help would be accepted. It was perhaps the sole serious thing about him.

“If you insist. I packed it with the herbs you gave me. It shouldn’t need healing.” Lionel forced himself to stillness. “I did miss the familiar tingle of a decent healer, I must say. The arrow came out of nowhere. I swear it! Humans are everywhere! Like ants! I almost was a pretty Gryphon trophy or rug for the wall!” He shuddered and remembered how close the arrow came to his vulnerable chest.

Brolly’s brown hand was over the arrow wound in a flash. “Now, that’s a vile thought!” Brolly’s distracted voice still held a measure of disgust. “I’m sorry you’d no luck, brother mine.” The warm tingle of Brolly’s healing gift ceased, and Lionel breathed a sigh of relief. The constant ache was gone.

“Why must I be one of the last of my kind?” Lionel complained. He studied the talons on the end of his hand. “I need a mate, damn it. Not only just to ease a lusty moment, but I’m one of the last Gryphons here in the Valley. I must make cubs if Gryphons are to survive.” He looked around his shabby nest cave. A female made all the difference between a place to sleep and a home. In his mind’s eye, he could almost see it. A nesting Gryphoness purring, games of Pounce and Tumble with the whistling laughter of Gryphlets, and the proud joy of flight lessons.

“You’re handsome enough to get a Gryphoness, too, if there were one available,” put in Shad, in the low tones of his kind. All Unicorns were soft-spoken, but vicious fighters when need arose. “The fact is, Lionel, you must choose a mate from outside your own race,” Shad pointed out, his voice earnest. “A filly or Vampire bitch won’t suit. Fillies produce single offspring, and Vamps tend to throw too many females.”

“I don’t want a filly, old friend. You can keep them. I don’t want an herbivore cluttering up my nest growing plants to eat. The very thought makes me shudder!”

Shad chuckled. “In truth, a Werewolf bitch is best since they’re prolific enough to produce litters.”

“But I want a real Gryphoness! The purity of my line…”

“Won’t continue without a mate, Feather Wit,” Shadow interrupted sternly. “As you well know, what form you are, you become in all ways.”

Brolly jumped in. “All she’d need to do is stay in Gryphoness form until she gave birth, Lionel. You know that.”

Lionel grumbled, then sighed. “You’re right. I’m stooping at shadows. I must find a female willing to give up her form for me. That is difficult enough.” He grinned at Shadow. “I will look among the Werewolves first. I would prefer a carnivore.”

Shadow manifested three glasses of wine that floated near the hands of his brothers. Brolly and Lionel grabbed up their wine glasses. The sparkling pink stuff slid down Lionel’s throat like liquid gold. He toasted his elegant brother in appreciation. “May I find a bitch, queen, or flirtatious filly who can love me enough to fill my cave with joy.”

“That shouldn’t be difficult,” Brolly murmured into his goblet. “Since any female can be bitch, queen, or flirtatious while they bat their lovely eyes at us and make us simpering idiots.” The brothers roared with laughter at that truth.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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?

Dark’s Lover by Emily Carrington #LGBTQ #urbanfantasy @CarringtonEmily

A Singer draws energy from within to work what others would consider miracles: soothing the sufferer, tending the grief-stricken, and defeating enemies.

When Blagden, a Night Wanderer-Singer, meets Caleb, he is drawn to the Grand Fae’s struggle to accept his new life as a member of SearchLight. Caleb’s son is blind and the grand Fae have cast out all disabled children… and those who support them.

But Blagden has a terrible secret. He inadvertently steals energy from those he loves. When SearchLight is attacked, Blagden must choose between the Fae he loves and his resolve never to steal energy again.

Get it at Changeling Press

Preorder for for February 19th at booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Emily Carrington

Caleb was one horny bastard. Not to mention exhausted. And that was not the right way to start this interview. Sure, the potential teacher sitting across from him was easy on the eyes. Tall, muscular, and big like a football player, his face showed intelligence instead of… Well, what exactly had Caleb been expecting? Something dopey?

No, but he hadn’t expected to feel like he was being studied in return. Not by a totally blind Night Wanderer.

His compatriot cleared her throat. “Welcome to Mojave Valley, Mr. Graywolf.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Pennyworth.” Blagden Graywolf smiled, and even though his eyes remained closed, the honest pleasure shone in every plane of his face. If he was nervous, he hid it well.

“To my right is Caleb Cartwright, the head of our program for the visually impaired.”

Blagden extended his hand after touching the side of the desk discreetly. He held his hand higher than was usual, but Caleb assumed that was because he wasn’t sure what obstacles he might bump.

He grasped Blagden’s hand and found the other magical creature’s grip strong and dry. “Pleased to meet you,” he murmured, embarrassed by how gruff he sounded.

“Tell us a little about yourself,” Mrs. Pennyworth invited.

The Night Wanderer settled back in the chair, clasping his hands in his lap. He turned his head toward her voice, but occasionally… He wasn’t actually glancing at Caleb to keep him in the conversation, but the tilt of his head gave that impression.

That’s something I need to teach Nat. His son had a tendency to address a random corner of whatever room he sat in or sometimes his shoes or his hands. Blagden Graywolf looked thoroughly invested in this interview.

He told them about growing up on a reservation in Utah, about being born totally blind, and how he’d decided to pursue being a teacher of the visually impaired because he loved all the tricks he’d been taught over the years.

“I thought the reservations didn’t have as ready access to teachers of the visually impaired as most schools,” Caleb put in. It was his understanding that Native American children weren’t given the same advantages. They were often overlooked or underserved. Of course, Night Wanderers weren’t exactly Native Americans, although their appearance had fooled many over the centuries. But since he’d been living on a reservation, he would have been subject to the same prejudices.

“My grandmother, uncle, and older brother are all blind,” Blagden said comfortably. “My grandmother went to the Perkins School for the Blind. She made sure we were all braille readers. And I attended a public school in Salt Lake City to make sure I got all the vision services I needed.” His dark eyebrows rose over his closed eyes. They were feathery and narrow, those brows. Elegant. “I had a series of three great TVI instructors during my school years.” Then he returned his attention to Mrs. Pennyworth. His focus was a little off to her left, but not tremendously so. “Ma’am, before I ramble too much, is there anything you’d specifically like to know?”

“What made you leave the human sector and seek a job with SearchLight?”

Blagden tensed. His hands in his lap, formerly folded together, knotted into a tight ball. “I’d prefer not to say.”

“We received glowing reports from your former colleagues and principals,” Mrs. Pennyworth said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just refused to answer a question during an interview. As she progressed into familiar territory, including asking what Blagden’s greatest strengths and weaknesses were, Caleb found himself daydreaming about his head teacher-to-be. Despite his refusal to answer a basic question, he was years more qualified than any of the other magical creatures they’d interviewed. Many of those would find jobs here, but as paraeducators and other instructional aides, not as the lead teacher.

The man began talking with his hands as well as his voice at one point, and Caleb interrupted a nice fantasy about kissing the Night Wanderer to ask, “Are you actually using tactile sign language?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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

A Happy Effin Valentine by Stephanie Burke #RomCom #DarkFantasy @FlashyCat @changelingpress

Masataka is a shape-shifting neko who makes the unfortunate mistake of picking up a stunning kitsune at a bar and taking her home for the night. How was he to know it was her wedding day? Or that her chosen mate was a nine-tailed kitsune of great distinction and power? Masa’s punishment is to be banished to Earth, stuck in his cat form until someone wishes for him to stay.

If it weren’t for bad luck, Effin wouldn’t have any luck at all. It’s Valentine’s Day, a day supposed to symbolize love and romance. Instead, it’s the worst day of Effin’s life. Whatever could go wrong, does. Abandoned in the middle of nowhere, Effin finds a homeless kitty. Charmed, she takes the cute, furry creature home.

It just so happens that the pretty kitty is actually Masataka, that lucky, lusty, shape-shifting neko. Suddenly, bad dates, worse clothes, and the sister from hell are a thing of the past.

Effin is the woman of Masataka’s dreams. Effin’s not so sure. It’s up to Masataka to convince Effin to believe in the staying power of love… and in her sexy lucky charm.

Available Now at Changeling Press

preorder for February 5th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Stephanie Burke

Effin was not having a good day.

In fact, not since Vesuvius had erupted and tons of hot volcanic ash had descended upon the denizens of Pompeii had anyone had a bad day like this. Come to think of it, bad was too minor a word. Her day had been vile, loathsome, horrid, terrifying, disgusting, and monstrously illogical.

And it all started on February thirteenth — Friday, February 13th, when Effin Damnwell Hurtzs opened her mouth.

Her mother had always warned her to think before she spoke, a trait she lacked, and a tendency she shared with her mother. “That little pink thing in your mouth is going to get you into a world of trouble, Effin.” Her mother sighed, shaking her head as if she knew that trouble for her eldest daughter was inevitable.

Hell, she was born during a leap year! Double hell, if Effin’d had any luck at all, Trouble would have been her middle name.

She came upon her unusual moniker by accident. When her mother, doped up with painkillers and sedatives, was asked two different questions at the same time after a forty-three hour labor, this was the result:

Her father: “How does it feel?”

The medical receptionist: “What shall we name this beauty?”

Her mother’s response: “It effin damn-well hurts, you bastard!”

Her father had finally learned to keep the pink thing in his mouth still, especially after his loving wife ripped out a handful of chest hair.

The medical receptionist had sniffed: “You don’t have to be so mean about it! I heard you just fine!”

Her mother: “What?”

The result: A tiny, beautiful little chocolate baby girl stuck with a name that would ensure future school fights and taunting for a lifetime.

And now, how Effin wished she had taken her mother’s advice to heart, especially after she recalled how she’d got her name. But no! Effin Damnwell Hurtzs had to challenge fate and miscellaneous creatures by loudly declaring, “There are no such things as gremlins!” when her best friend confided that she was being plagued by a goodly tribe of them.

And what’s even worse, she made her declaration on Friday, February 13th, black Friday, the unluckiest day of the year.

After ignoring her best friend Christa’s horrified stare, she went home, had a nice mug of cocoa laced with a liberal shot of Cask & Cream Caramel Temptation, indulged in a nice hot bath, and retired to her boudoir to dream wonderful dreams of the blind date Christa had set her up with.

According to Christa, her date, Buster, was a CPA with an MBA and drove a BMW. The brother was supposed to be fine as hell, independent, didn’t live with his mother, had a lucrative job that ensured he wouldn’t be hitting her up for loans, and had impeccable social skills. That meant he had proper pronunciation and would say shrimp instead of scrimps, would chew with his mouth closed, would not brag about himself, and she would not suddenly determine that his ethnicity was actually Russian or Roman from the speed and accuracy of octopus hands.

Yes, Effin went to sleep with a smile on her face, her tummy warm and full, feeling sated and altogether pleased with herself.

Life was good, and tomorrow, Valentine’s Day, it would only get better.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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

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

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

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

Perfect Rhythm by Megan Slayer #LGBTQ #UrbanFantasy @MeganSlayer @changelingpress

The moment the king passed down the curse, Minos knew he wasn’t getting his voice back. He’s caused enough heartache for two lifetimes, but when he sees a handsome man struggling in the lake, his innate desire to protect comes to the surface.

John Leed just wants to be loved. When he comes out to his friends, instead of embracing him, they throw him overboard — into the arms of a merman. Once together, he realizes he’s found the partner he’s always wanted.

Minos is determined to protect this human. Can they forge a relationship or will the secrets in Minos’s past disrupt their perfect rhythm?

Available Now at Changeling Press

preorder for February 5th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Megan Slayer

I’ll never get my voice back. Minos swam through the lake with nowhere to go. He wished he had somewhere to be, but being banned, all he could do was linger.

He’d lost his purpose — working for the king — and his voice. Why? Because he’d trusted the wrong mer. Sure, he’d been partially to blame. He’d pursued Rian, the prince of the mers, a bit too heavily. In his defense, he’d thought Rian loved him.

He’d been so wrong.

He continued to swim and cursed the king’s decision to punish him. He didn’t deserve to be without a voice. No one could understand him, and he’d failed at expressing himself. His magic remained, but faded the longer he was punished. Where was this perfect being to complete him and fix the problem?

That being probably didn’t exist.

He couldn’t shake his anger. All he’d wanted was to be loved. He’d truly thought he had a connection with Rian, and that they could’ve even been partners.

Except he knew the truth. He and Rian would never be together. They weren’t couple material.

Fuck. He wished he had his voice back. His anger wasn’t going anywhere, but time made him realize he needed to apologize and be honest with not only Rian, but himself. He’d been terrible to Rian, and the guilt ate at him.

Minos surfaced. One thing he loved was the way the moon shimmered on the waves on the lake at night. The water was never calm, but the ripples reminded him of magic. Like the magic surrounded him. The glittery effect never lasted long, but was still dazzling.

He shook his hair out and surveyed the landscape. At night, the water and sky seemed to blend into endlessness.

The moonlight sparkled on the waves. He trailed his fingers through the dark water. The ripples mesmerized him. A sound filtered to him, and he tipped his head. The sound reminded him of a whistle or horn. A boat?

He glanced over his shoulder and spotted a vessel. He’d seen plenty of boats, and this one didn’t seem overly exciting. It was a bigger watercraft and had people lounging in the moonlight on the deck. They were partying and singing or playing music. One man appeared to have a drink in his hand.

Minos stayed out of sight from the boat and watched the humans. Two men stood at the railing. A woman reclined in a chair, and another one stepped out onto the deck. A third man held a big glass.

Minos hated playing the voyeur, but he couldn’t look away. He wanted a group of friends and a place to belong. Those people seemed carefree and happy.

Maybe he could approach them. One of these people could be his destiny. Was he supposed to talk to the humans? He wasn’t sure how without his voice, but he’d been wrong about the magic before.

He listened closer, but didn’t hear the music. His destiny would come with the specific song of his mate. If anyone in the boat could belong to him, then he would hear the unique tune.

Nothing.

The voices filtered to him again, though, and he honed in on the conversation.

“John wants to tell us something,” one of the women said. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. “He says it’s important.”

“Nothing with John is important.” The dark-haired man swatted at one of the women. “He’d have to speak up first, and he’s so shy.”

“And too dramatic.” The blond man laughed. “He can’t say anything too exciting.”

“Now, it might be important,” the other girl said. “My brother wanted that promotion at work. He’s good at his job and would be a great building manager. He’s been shift manager for a long time and proving himself.”

Minos dipped under the water to breathe. He had no idea what a building manager might be and wondered what it looked like. Did that mean the man was in charge of the boxes the humans lived in? Worked in? He surfaced and listened to the humans talk.

“Well, whatever it is, he can get his ass out here any time now,” one of the guys said.

Minos couldn’t follow the conversation, but he enjoyed listening. The humans were so angry and pushy.

A fourth man ventured out to the deck. The other humans were dressed for night swimming and lounging on the boat, but this guy seemed out of place. He wore glasses and kept his inky black hair cut short. Instead of being dressed like the other men in shorts, he wore a button-down shirt and slacks.

Minos stared at him. He liked the way this man looked. He longed to touch him. A faint tune played in his ears. Was it music from the radio? He wasn’t sure.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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 various e-tailer sites.

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.

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

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

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

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

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

 

or Pre-Order at retailers for September 6th

 

   

 

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Stephanie Burke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, they are allowed gloves.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More from Stephanie at Changeling Press …

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

Accounting for Love by Kate Hill #PNR #UrbanFantasy #holiday #NewAdult #StPatricksDay @katehillromance @changelingpress

 

A grumpy troll and a cheerful pixie prove St. Patrick’s Day
is the best day to fall in love.

 

Accounting for Love (Wit & Wizardry Multi-Author 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, Elves Dragons and Magical Creatures,
Alternative Universe, Holiday Themes, Magic, New Adult

 

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Lucas has just returned from a most unsatisfying vacation to find his department at the Wit and Wizardry Brewery in a shambles. Of troll ancestry, Lucas is a man of appalling disposition and astounding accounting skills. Determined to set everything in order as soon as possible, he refuses to leave the office at closing time, even thought it means missing out on St. Patrick’s Day celebrations.

Lucas finds he’s not the only one working late. Cait, the newly hired head of marketing for the brewery, is there as well. Her overly-cheerful manner drives Lucas crazy. The last thing he needs is an optimistic, chatty, adorable pixie distracting him at work, but she can’t seem to understand that he wants to be left alone.

What neither realize is that earlier that evening, Lucas had washed down his dinner with a magical beer that will guide him toward his true love. The abominable accountant and the merry marketing manager are about to prove that opposites do attract and St. Patrick’s Day really is the best day to fall in love.

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kate Hill

“Well, try to be nice to her,” Dillon said.

“Nice isn’t in my nature.”

“I hadn’t noticed. Believe me, Lucas, the only reason you’re working here is because you’re great at your job and because you don’t have to work directly with paying customers.”

“One thing I’ve always liked about you, Dillon. You’re honest.”

Dillon grinned and shook his head. “The second thing I wanted to say is you don’t have to stay late tonight. You have plenty of time to set things in order during working hours. What’s the point of taking a vacation if you’re stressed again by the end of your first day back? It’s St. Patrick’s Day. After work, my brothers and I are going to the pub to hang out with friends. Why don’t you come along?”

“Your brothers hate me and so do your friends.”

“They don’t hate you.”

“And I’m not too fond of them, either.”

“You’ll be doing me a favor if you come. Truth be told, I don’t feel like celebrating anything so soon after…”

Dillon paused and Lucas shook his head. Dillon’s girlfriend had left him recently and despite his grinning exterior, he still hadn’t gotten over it.

“You need to put that woman out of your mind entirely,” Lucas said. “Tell you what, instead of going to the pub, maybe you should work late, too. I find that if I immerse myself in –“

“Forget it. I’ve worked enough late nights and early mornings. I need to relax. If you change your mind about joining us –“

“No thank you, Dillon. I’m not leaving this office until it’s back in order. Pixie slurs aside, I ask again, who looked after this department and left such a mess?”

“That would be me. Your employer.” Dillon grinned and winked before he turned and left Lucas muttering over his paperwork.