Phantom Lure by J. Hali Steele #paranormalromance @JHaliSteele

Phantom Lure (Phantom Lure 4)

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

When Lucifer tossed his favorite lover, Grange Stafford, out of hell, and tortured Heath Terran, it should have ended there. Instead, that was only the beginning — the creation of the Phantom Lures.

Driver: Phantom Lure Grange Stafford, the handsome man who drives the bus on Roman Curt’s route to work, appears in Roman’s unrealized fantasies. What would Roman’s girlfriend think of his wanton desires?

Captain: A Phantom Lure from northern Europe, Captain Gent Finway prefers Nordic weather and icy waters. Now he’s heading south to the Caribbean, captain of a cruise ship on its maiden voyage. His blood turns hot when he touches his new chief officer, Salvatore Martino.

Locomotive: Caught in Satan’s web of deceit, Heath Terran is the reason Phantom Lures exist. Grange sets a scenario in motion with other Lures to free Heath. Full of Lucifer’s power, Grange takes what he wants. In taking Heath, Grange changes Heath and their world forever.

 

Available at Changeling Press

Also in paperback

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 J. Hali Steele
Excerpt from Driver

The city streets teemed with a variety of people ripe for hooking. Providing a relatively safe haven, Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love, was a splendid place to exist and Grange Stafford anonymously canvassed the narrow, crowded streets searching for what he considered necessary. Excitement charged every sense as he thought of capturing someone new and educating him in boundless carnal pleasures.

At this moment, his catch was in sight.

The athletic, dark-haired man with a summer tan who boarded his bus thought his stolen looks at Grange went unnoticed, as the petite woman beside him talked on and on about a threesome. They didn’t. Grange caught every peek in his direction through the rearview mirror, even analyzed each glance. What Grange attempted to ascertain was when the handsome, blue-eyed male would come to the realization he’d relinquish his virginity to Grange. Hell, with confusion marauding through the man’s mind, he remained unaware his eyes begged the bus driver to take him. His name, Roman, rolled around in Grange’s head as he envisioned introducing him to the delights of same sex intercourse.

Grange wanted Roman badly.

Careful to mesmerize real bus drivers, steal their vehicles and appropriate designated routes only happened when Grange’s need grew so raw he couldn’t ignore it. Passengers were called catches, and though not every ride ended satisfactorily, he found mass transit riders not nearly as jaded or adventurous as those using other types of transport. Grange appreciated a catch fragrant with a bit of fear and apprehension over new sexual experiences. His favorites were normally couples he initiated into the joys of threesomes. Grange got off on watching a woman see her boyfriend impaled by him, the lovely way her mouth bowed in surprise when his penis sank so deep inside her man, his balls smacking the other’s ass. Performing fellatio on her lover with the same mouth was another turn on. The couple seated right behind him had his cock so damn hard Grange could come if he wanted to. Hold it, wait for the tight-assed man to conclude that until he let Grange have him, the visions he experienced would not dissipate.

Grange had done the necessary thing to make sure Roman’s satisfaction with his girlfriend or anyone else would remain elusive as long as the idea of Grange riding him to an orgasm played through his mind.

The woman, Paula Frame, hadn’t escaped Grange’s attention, neither was she aware participating in a threesome would have never entered her pretty little head without his prodding, though she did possess a wilder side. Her creamy skin glowed this evening as she animatedly stressed her desires to Roman. Not tall, she had shapely legs and a heart-shaped ass begging to be had, and after he took care of her boyfriend, Grange would see to it she got just what she believed she coveted — a menage where she’d be taken and cared for by two big men.

Nearing Race Street, Grange knew Paula’s stop fast approached. She wouldn’t disembark because she’d not only worked herself into a sexual frenzy, she’d pulled Roman in her wake. Shit! The thought of Roman fucking her tonight urged drops of cream to escape his ramrod stiff shaft.

“Twelfth and Arch,” Grange called out. Passengers exited quickly, but Paula remained seated. Pulling from the curb, he continued on his way until he came to Sansom Street, Roman’s stop. As Grange knew they would, Paula and Roman waited until the last rider vanished through the doors before climbing off. When Roman turned to glance at him, Grange smiled. “Enjoy your evening.”

Lips curved tentatively in his direction, and Grange sighed at Roman’s mind settling down. The relief Roman experienced as he came close to accepting his predicament sounded an audible snap in Grange’s head as the man stuttered, “To-tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Grange replied. Tonight he’d go home alone and savor anticipating what he’d denied himself for two days — the longest a Phantom Lure could go without sexual contact and not begin to lose powers. Roman was a man who could provide unbridled sexual fulfillment. A man Grange was sure would embrace losing his virginity.

 

About J. Hali Steele

A multi-published author, J. Hali Steele wishes she could grow fur, wings, or fangs, so she can stay warm, fly, or just plain bite the crap out of… Well, since she can’t, she would much rather roam where her fictional big cats live — in the high desert of California. Discovering a new love of contemporary male/male erotica has flipped a switch she can’t turn off, so she hopes eventually it drifts back into her otherworldly realm.

When J. Hali’s not writing, she can be found snuggled in front of the TV with a good book, a cat in her lap, and a cup of coffee.

Growl and roar — it’s okay to let the beast out.

J. Hali at Changeling Press| Twitter

 

 

Inexplicable by Willa Okati #gayromance

Inexplicable (Roanoke River Omegas 2)

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

Deacon’s everything Kit wants. Kit’s everything Deacon needs — three days a month. Alpha and ex-jarhead Deacon’s an over-the-road trucker, always on the move, and he likes it that way. And Omega Kit’s… good with that. He’s not going anywhere. Not seeing anyone else. He’s promised himself he’ll never be like his parents — he won’t tie a man down when he doesn’t want to be tied.

What Kit doesn’t know is that he’s pregnant — until the night their son is born. Now everything’s changing. Babies do what they want, when they want. Just like Deacon.

Only Deacon’s not sure just what he does want… but he’s sure what he’s not willing to give up on, and that’s a future. And a family. His family.

Now all he has to do is convince Kit he’s in this for keeps.

 

Available at Changeling Press

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Willa Okat
i

Deacon came home that night as the sun came up. Oh, not his real home, Kit supposed. Deacon’s only fixed address was the sleeper compartment in his eighteen-wheeler, and had been since the day he’d paid cash down for the truck. But if home was where the heart was, then when he came to Kit, Deacon was coming home.

And then coming, and coming again. And maybe just once more for sweet good measure.

Deacon hadn’t been expected, and that made his arrival all the more perfect. Kit didn’t care that he was dozy and wobbly and warm from a night in bed. Kit’s bed had been too lonely but now that would change because Deacon was here, right here at last. Hair ruffled, stubble on his cheeks and a cocky grin on his lips, Deacon looked like trouble in ragged blue jeans and good leather boots, ready for anything. His Marine Corps tattoo showed where he’d rolled his sleeves up and his eyes gleamed with a taste for playing as hard as he worked.

“Deacon. Deacon.” Not giving a damn about standing on his front stoop in a busy neighborhood just waking up to a new day, and which would have loved a show, Kit leapt at Deacon and wound both arms around his neck.

“Now that’s what I call a hello.” Deacon laughed, low in his throat and pleased, and held Kit up as easily as if he wasn’t a full-grown man with shoulders just as broad as the Alpha’s. He bent his head to nibble at Kit’s neck. “Need something, Omega?”

After all these years as lovers, he could still make Kit blush. Kit hid his face against Deacon’s firm chest and shook his head, not knowing what to say. I need you was obvious. I want you, even more so. I have to have you inside me

Kit peeked up from beneath his lashes, aware of just what that did to Deacon, and glad, because a look like that was all he could manage between breathless shudders of yearning. “I want you inside me,” he said, winding his legs as well as his arms around Deacon. “Come inside.” In all ways, he meant, and he knew Deacon understood him that way.

Deacon bit his lip hard and swore, dark and rough. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“A little death,” Kit promised, twining closer. “Make love to me.”

“Sweetheart, if you think you can stop me now…”

And oh, Kit liked the sound of that. He laughed as Deacon, strong as an ox, wriggled him loose and tossed him over his shoulder. A hearty smack on the ass and they were on their way up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Kit slid his hands down the back of Deacon’s jeans, kneading the fine firm flesh he found there.

Deacon popped his hip again, the sting sweet and sharp. “Not playing fair there, Kit.”

Kit rubbed his cheek against Deacon’s shoulder. “All’s fair.”

“God damn, when you purr like that you make me want to bathe you in cream and lick you clean,” Deacon said as he reached the top of the steps and set Kit lightly on his feet. He gave him a warm look, no less wild than his nature allowed, and tilted his head at the locked door. “Want a good fucking, Kitten? Let me in.”

And didn’t Kit just! He hadn’t seen Deacon in weeks, far longer than they usually went between visits — Deacon’s work had taken him to California for ages, and every time he’d planned to make his way back to the East Coast, another job opened up. Every time they put their plans off, Kit retreated to his bed with a toy or two specifically designed for Omega satisfaction, but they just weren’t the same.

They couldn’t kiss you. They didn’t have hands to run over your skin. They couldn’t whisper wicked things in your ears. They couldn’t…

Who cared? They didn’t matter. Not when he had his favorite Alpha in his arms. Kit hurried to let them both in, and turned quick as a wink to catch Deacon by the belt. He tug-dragged the man to his bed, both of them laughing, shedding clothes as they went — not in any particular order, and when they reached their goal Deacon still had his jeans on, if open, and one sock, and Kit still wore his pajama shirt.

Kit peeled that off with a thrill going through him at the way Deacon stopped to stare hungrily, then fell back onto his bed. He rested on his elbows, his legs splayed slightly apart with one drawn up a little to hide his cock from Deacon’s view. Deacon loved a show, and he loved being the one to draw out a performance. With him — only him — Kit could play that sort of a part.

Deacon, he trusted.

Though Deacon had paused to frown at the bed, taking in the unplugged heating pad pushed to one side and the uncapped bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand, along with a mostly-empty bottle of water. “You all right, hon?”

Kit shrugged. Part of the reason he hadn’t slept had been a backache that just wouldn’t quit, but he’d spent the previous evening helping baby-sit his friend Jory’s new son, lifting and chasing and picking up after the exhausted new father. “Tweaked a muscle,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?”

Kit clicked his tongue. A distracted Alpha wouldn’t give him what he wanted, what he needed. He reached out to tickle Deacon’s thigh with his bare toes and get him back on track. “You can’t do much with your jeans on, love. Take those off.”

 

About Willa Okati

Willa Okati is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, and a lifelong love of storytelling. She is definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

Willa at Changeling Press| Willa’s Facebook Group

 

Lionsblood by Marteeka Karland #paranormalromance #futuristic @marteekakarland

Lionsblood (Box Set) (Lionsblood 5)

Cover Art by Marteeka Karland

In Earth’s brutal, future frozen, humans are no longer at the top of food chain. Paranormals roam the frozen wastes, laying claim to whatever they can defend. Humans are tolerated by some, but not all of the new species.

The most vicious of the new races are the Lionsblood. No one dares defy a Lionsblood. These predators take what they want and never look back. These men are as protective as they are dangerous — especially when it comes to their chosen mates.

Lionsblood (Box Set) contains the previously released novellas LionsbloodLionsmateLionsbane, and Lionsheart.

 

Get it Today at Changeling Press

Use code TGIF03-27-2020 for 15% off your entire order!

Also available in Paperback

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Marteeka Karland
Excerpt from Snowbound: Lionsblood

“What?” The familiar masculine growl of her long time friend Klark almost made Marie sob with relief when he answered on the third chime.

“Klark, I’m so sorry to call this late.” She had probably awakened him from his nightly hibernation. Most lionsblood were already deeply asleep by two hours past nightfall. It protected them from the bitter cold that blanketed the northern hemisphere of Earth at night. Not that the temperature was much better during the day. Given the fact that he’d answered at all, he probably hadn’t settled down yet for the night.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s wrong?” He knew her too well. Unless she missed her guess, Klark wouldn’t let her gloss anything over. He’d make her tell him everything before the night was out.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just need a ride home.”

There was a long pause.

“Where are you?”

She took a deep breath. This was the hard part. “Shiffley’s Bar.”

Again, there was silence.

“Do you have the gem I gave you?”

Marie blinked several times, the question catching her off guard. “Yes.” She didn’t dare tell him she’d made it into a necklace she never took off.

“Go to Shiff. Show him the stone. He’ll put you in a safe room. Do not leave that room.”

The link went dead, and Marie cringed. They’d been friends too long for her to hope he’d let this drop. He might not question her tonight, but there would be a grilling, and Klark never stopped until he had all the information he wanted. Not only that, but given Klark’s temper, things didn’t bode well for her tonight.

She did as he instructed and was shown to a tiny room. She sat down on the bed. The one window was laser-proof and tinted, but she could still see the perpetual drifts of snow that blanketed the landscape outside. Shiff, the vampire lionsblood hybrid, kept the room as a haven for humans caught out in the violent night. Not only were the preternaturals and immortals deadly to humans, but the night turned the Earth into a frozen wasteland in excess of 100 degrees below zero in the summer, and 150 below in the winter. The only things keeping humans alive were the underground farms and the few above ground “safe rooms” the hybrids built for their “pets.” This safe room was impenetrable, and impossible to leave unless Shiff allowed it.

When the heavy titanium door burst open, only to slam shut so hard her insides shook, naturally she nearly jumped out of her skin. What a time for him to choose to remind her of the strength of a lionsblood. In this world, the lionsblood were at the top of the food chain.

“Jesus Holy God!” She was at once relieved to see Klark standing there, but her relief was short lived. He looked livid.

About Marteeka Karland

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

Marteeka at Changeling Press | Website

 

The Case of the Deadly Game – Part 2 by Stephanie Burke #murdermystery #interracialromance @Flashycat

The Case of the Deadly Game Part 2 (Mai-Fly Mysteries 5)

Cover Art by Bryan Keller

Time is running out, and Mai swears Fate, that fickle b*tch, is laughing at her.

Accused of murder, and hunted by a vindictive British agent who’s out for blood, how will Mai solve the crime, save the day, and beat the Deadly Game so she can finally have her fairytale ending?

 

Get it at Changeling Press

Use code TGIF03-27-2020 for 15% off your entire order!

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Stephanie Burke

A shower and a nap did wonders for Mai’s disposition, and she had a wide grin on her face as she walked beside Ptris, who looked rather smug himself.

Sex between the two of them just kept getting better. She’d like to say that something felt missing, that fucking Ptris needed the extra oomph from having her Ry-Ry there, but even though she missed her lover, pined for him, her experiences with Ptris left her shaking, sore, and blessedly satisfied.

She sighed softly as Trouble, the Black Shuck, bounded toward her, leaving Lu-Lu’s side as he happily took his place beside her.

“So,” Lu-Lu drawled, “Got it all out of your system?”

“Fuck you,” Mai drawled back, burying her hand in Trouble’s ruff and smiling at the little moan of pleasure the hell hound released.

“That’s Ptris’ job,” Lu-Lu returned, just as happy as she tugged Austin to her side while they moved across the empty lobby toward the pair. “And it looks like he does it well.”

“Like it’s his main job and favorite hobby all rolled into one,” Mai admitted without shame, trying to pull a reaction out of her Dryad. Instead of flushing or showing any embarrassment, Ptris nodded and crossed his hands behind his back, though a purple vine eased its way from his hair to grip the hand that wasn’t petting Trouble.

“Well, when you get that old you manage to discover some pretty tricks, right, Austin?” She giggled as her lover smiled tenderly back at her.

“More than a few,” he admitted, shooting a look at Ptris that conveyed smugness and some kind of sexual brotherhood. “And I never mind sharing them with the ones I love.”

“Love me less,” Mai teased. “I don’t even want to think about your sex life. It would send me running for the hills.”

“We don’t have to think about your sex life, Mai-Mai.” Lu-Lu rolled her eyes. “We hear it every time you decide to get frisky.” Then she leered at Ptris. “I can hear you do great work.”

“As my Queen demands and requires,” he answered, his stoic expression finally breaking as he shot a grin at Mai. The Dryad radiated contentment and happiness for a bright shining moment before it was once again, hidden by the calm facade that slammed down over his face.

“Your Queen is satisfied,” Mai confirmed before turning to look at the rest of her Court. “So, we need to find out what’s going on in Lightwater. And I know the perfect place to snoop.”

“Back to Jon-Ton’s?” Lu-Lu asked, tilting her head just a little as she looked around the empty lobby. “‘Cause it’s not like anything is happening around here.”

“There were a few guests,” Mai noted. “Did they all just leave? And where are the staff?”

“The staff is in mourning,” Austin spoke softly, his gaze trailing over the hotel decor that seemed to be warring with each other. “Most of them knew Elias Humphries and are taking his death hard. He must have been using some of his Brownie power inadvertently because this place suddenly feels a lot colder without his presence.”

“I thought Brownies just kept the place neat and tidy while looking after their homes and the people who reside within them.” Mai gave the space a look herself and had to agree with Austin. The place seemed to be lacking something, the charm it had exhibited even when the place looked like a war between Tradition and Modernization. “This is kind of creepy.”

“Brownies often do more than just cook and clean when allowed. In the States, their power is heavily restricted and they aren’t allowed to exert the full force of their powers. Brownies keep diseases and sickness at bay. They imbue all that enter into their homes with a sense of well- being and peace that can be hard to find outside the safety of their own family. They keep depression at bay and have the ability to absorb what humans often call negative emotions, leaving those who enter into their sphere of influence content and feeling lighter. Some of that warmth is missing from the hotel and people can now see the flaws here. Consider this. Imagine that his influence was a thin veil that masked all the issues that surround this place. Now with him gone, more and more you can feel and see the troubles that his hotel was going through.”

“And so can the other guests.” Mai nodded in understanding. “With the death of an apparently beloved figure, it only makes sense that they would feel the negativity of this whole situation and flee. I don’t blame them.” Mai shuddered. Now that she was looking for it, she could feel a bit of coldness in the hotel. It was like the life had been drained away from it.

“So we aren’t going to learn anything here.” Austin broke the silence that had dropped for a few moments after Mai spoke. “We have to go where actual people are gathering.”

“And that would be Jon-Ton’s,” Lu-Lu added. “I’m all for gossip and pastry. We left before I really got a chance to sample the wares in the case.”

“You think with your stomach,” Austin poked at her appetite.

“And you think with your dick, lover,” Lu-Lu sassed right back. “But you don’t see me complaining.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a complaint.” Austin laughed. “It was me pointing out the obvious. We all have our crosses to bear, so our partners had just better sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“Aren’t they sweet?” Mai remarked, looking up at Ptris with a grin on her lips. “That could be us but you won’t smile at me.”

“I smile when appropriate,” Ptris countered. “Like when you are naked and swearing, screaming in my face for more as you ride me hard. I smile then.”

Mai ignored the blush she could feel heating her cheeks as she turned toward the front doors of McDowel’s. “So, who’s for pastry?” she asked, ignoring the snorts of laughter from her friends. “I’m suddenly starving.”

“And your man won’t go to the kitchen and make you a sandwich?” Lu-Lu joked. “Aww, you poor baby. Let’s get you fed. Great sex makes everyone hungry.” She leered at Austin, who leered back while Mai-Mai rolled her eyes at all of them.

“Why do I hang out with you people?” she asked, moving toward the door, Ptris at her side.

“Because we make you laugh?” Lu-Lu all but skipped to her side. “Admit it. You love us. You wouldn’t know what to do without us.”

“That… that’s true,” Mai admitted, a sudden seriousness taking over her mood. “I would have never made it this far without you all.”

“You are our Queen.” Austin spoke softly, opening the doors for them to pass through. “There is nothing we wouldn’t do to help you succeed and become reunited with your Prince.”

The others nodded in agreement. The vine around her wrist squeezed tightly for just a moment before she was released and the tender purple extension of her lover slid back into his hair.

“So let’s work with that.” Mai relaxed, surrounded by her Court. “Let’s go make some magic.”

 

About Stephanie Burke

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.

Stephanie at Changeling Press | Blog

 

 

Master of Honor by Angela Knight #urbanfantasy #vampires @AngelaKnight

Master of Honor (Merlin's Legacy 5)

Cover Art by Angela Knight

A month ago, Cheryl Parker thought she was an ordinary woman — a nurse, a mother, a woman whose lover had walked out. Now she’s gained incredible power thanks to an alien spirit who has made her immortal. She looks twenty again. And her ex is back.

It’s not unusual to discover an old lover kept secrets, but some are harder to believe than others. Ulf’s secret is that he’s an immortal vampire Knight of the Round Table. The good news is, he still loves Cheryl. The bad news is, he thinks the creature inhabiting her is a potential threat to humanity. The worst news is, there is a threat — and it could well kill them all.

Ulf wants nothing more than to be with Cheryl again. The problem is her magic resembles that of a dragon who tried to set a small town ablaze. And she knows more about the creature than she’s saying.

Even as passion rekindles between them, Cheryl and Ulf must overcome years of lies and mistrust. Otherwise they’re doomed — and so is everyone else. Because the creature stalking them is something worse than a dragon. Much, much worse.

Get it at Changeling Press

Use code TGIF03-27-2020 for 15% off your entire order!

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Angela Knight

Brandon Sanders was five years old. The odds were high he’d never see six.

Cheryl Parker stood at the foot of his hospital bed, watching the machines tracking his heartbeat, respiration, and blood oxygen. Eyelashes as thick and black as crow feathers stood out against his bloodless cheeks beneath the thick bandaging encircling his head. The tube of a ventilator distorted his mouth, the machine hissing as it breathed for him. She wondered whether his eyes were his mom’s soft brown or the blue-gray of his dad’s.

Jenny Sanders had said her son had played Hulk to his brother’s Iron Man all morning, running around the house, laughing and giggling. Until he’d raced out the front door into the yard, his brother hot on his heels…

Right into the path of his father’s practice tee shot. The golf ball slammed into Brandon’s temple in precisely the wrong spot, fracturing the thin bone and embedding fragments in his brain.

One frantic ambulance trip to Mecklenburg Memorial later, a neurosurgeon had removed a chunk of the boy’s skull to allow room for the swelling that would otherwise damage his brain. The doctor had tucked the square of bone beneath the skin of Brandon’s abdomen until it could be reattached once the danger was past. He’d cleaned out the skull fragments and closed, and the prayers had begun.

So far, they’d gone unanswered.

The ventricles of the child’s brain were filling with blood, a sign of encroaching brain death. More surgery was needed to repair the bleed, but it was too deep in the brain. Dr. Deepak Anand feared he couldn’t even get to the blood vessel without killing the child. Anand had spent all afternoon calling hospitals around the country, trying to find a neurosurgeon with the skill to risk operating. After one look at Brandon’s CT scans, they’d all turned him down.

The neurologist had scheduled a proof-of-life electroencephalogram for later tonight to see if Brandon was brain dead. If so, his parents would have to decide whether to take him off life support. Based on his declining vitals, nobody thought he had a prayer of passing the EEG.

Brandon had one chance, and one chance only. Cheryl.

She wasn’t a doctor, much less a neurosurgeon. Yes, she’d been a nurse for almost forty years, fifteen of them as a nursing supervisor. She’d treated thousands of sick and dying people, and she’d fought like hell for every one of them. Too often, there’d been nothing she could do. She’d been only human.

Cheryl wasn’t sure what she’d become last month, but “only human” no longer applied. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have to cast spells to make her twenties-looking face appear its true fifty-nine. Mirrors were still freaking her out. She’d glimpse herself and think, Who is that kid and what is she doing in my house?

So yeah, she had power. But this was brain damage that scared neurosurgeons who thought they were gods. Can I pull this off?

The answering silence in her head seemed to tick.

At last Gaia’s voice whispered through her mind like the sigh of leaves in a cold wind, inhuman and distant. If we do nothing, the Sight tells me his parents will be planning his funeral tomorrow.

Shit. She remembered the look on his father’s face. That stunned I’ve-killed-my-boy expression had made her worry Stephen Sanders would try to self-medicate with a bullet. Where would that leave his wife and eldest child?

Cheryl had never faced anything like this with her son Adam, but she could imagine how she’d feel. Paul would have been devastated…

Not Paul, she reminded herself. His name is Ulf. He lied about that like he lied about everything else. Despite the bitterness in that thought, there was longing in the next. Will he show up again tonight?

After twenty-eight years without a word, Ulf had dropped by half a dozen times in the last month. Probably making sure she hadn’t gone evil and started eating the neighbors.

Who the hell cares? she told herself impatiently. Healing this kid is what matters.

Besides, she’d violated her own code of magical ethics to create the opportunity. First she’d had to put a spell on Brandon’s parents to send them down to the cafeteria for dinner. Otherwise they wouldn’t have left for more than a few minutes. They’d be gone for the next hour. Then she’d compelled the medical staff to ignore anything odd going on in Brandon’s room. She’d laid a third spell on the equipment, making sure everything would maintain the same readings the machines were recording now. Otherwise, changes to Brandon’s heartbeat and respiration might raise questions later she wouldn’t want to answer.

Damn, she hated using her power to fuck with people’s heads. This was the same kind of shit witches had done to her. Guess I’ll just have to live with being a hypocrite. Gaia, can we pull this off in the time we have?

About Angela Knight

New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight’s first book was written in pencil and illustrated in crayon; she was nine years old at the time. A few years later, she read The Wolf and the Dove and fell in love with romance. In addition to her fiction work, Angela’s publishing career includes a stint as a comic book writer and ten years as a newspaper reporter. Several of her stories have won South Carolina Press Association awards. Angela lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a detective with the Spartanburg PD.

Angela at Changeling Press | Website

 

 

A Pack of His Own (Duet) on sale for $0.99 by Emily Carrington #LGBTQ #paranormalromance

IMG_0659

On SALE $0.99

📚📚🐺🐺Two excerpts from A Pack of His Own volume 1:📚📚🐺🐺

 

Excerpt from Hunter’s Claim: 

A strong, well-remembered hand closed around Charlie’s automatically outstretched right. Then the man before Charlie pushed that hand aside and grasped Charlie’s left, white cane and all.

Charlie laughed as lean, muscular arms pulled him close and tightened around his back. It wasLuis. His nose had been right.

“I was planning to see you here,” Luis whispered in Spanish, his voice richer than the thrum of the best-played bass. “But I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

Charlie drank in Luis’s scent, relishing how Luis held him. Then he pulled back slightly, though he was still safe in Luis’s embrace. “It’s good to see you.” That was an understatement, and he was hard-pressed not to resume the kisses he’d run from in March. He had no right to such a warm welcome, and for a breath his heart lodged in his throat.

Then another smell — a stench compared to Luis’s heady aroma — invaded the library, and Charlie stepped away completely. He held up one finger. “Un momento.”

Luis retreated several paces, and Charlie blinked at the psychic vampire’s discretion. Luis hadn’t possessed anything close to circumspection or respect for duty when they’d worked together in Tampa.

Charlie went to the library doors, meaning to close them, but the werewolf he’d smelled stood before him. He made the conscious switch to English, realizing he must be overwhelmed by Luis’s presence if the change needed to be willed rather than instinctive. Or maybe I’m intoxicated again. As he’d been when he and Luis had tumbled into bed for a single, blissful hour. Maybe it wasn’t the Lady Lavender drinks that got me drunk in March. It could’ve been Luis.

 

Excerpt from Tracker’s Fate:

Jeremy frowned as he put the first of the pans under the running water and squirted soap in. It would do no good to attempt inviting more information through silence; Ethan was an old hat at keeping things to himself. “What is a haint anyway? Besides a chicken-fried Southern ghost?”

“The words ghost, zombie, half-vampire, and weird distant cousin of the wendigo can all apply to haints.” Ethan slapped his palm down on the lid of one plastic container, producing a hollow click that strangely resembled the noise a handgun made when cocked.

Jeremy decided that probably had to do with the acoustics in the huge kitchen. “That is not helpful,” he answered in a dry tone he hoped would make Ethan laugh.

The SearchLight tracker snickered; the tension in the room dropped. “Thankfully we went in with our eyes a little open to the possibilities, or…” Another lid clicked into place.

Jeremy scented the air, searching out Luis Delgado’s unique aroma. He thought the psychic vampire was outside. Perhaps with Charlie. “Did this haint bite you or stab you?”

“Bite. I fell on her from above before she could claim another victim. But she twisted under me like a snake. I saw her eyes just before she showed her fangs. As we were told, she was starving.” Ethan approached the sink with slow, dragging steps. “I had to kill her.”

Jeremy considered the tense line of Ethan’s shoulders. SearchLight trackers were, by definition, spies, stalkers, information gatherers, and more than occasional executioners. Not a single one had been pressed into service. “Do you regret becoming a tracker?” he asked as he squirted soap into the hot water. He began dumping dishes into the mix almost indiscriminately, ninety percent of his attention being for Ethan. I could almost be attracted to this quiet-speaking werewolf with so much fire in his soul. Almost, however, was the operative word. Ethan could laugh as well as any other wolf, but his reticence sometimes annoyed Jeremy.

The two of us would not make a good match, Jeremy told his lonely heart.

Ethan opened and closed a nearby drawer, his movements gentle and slow. “I used to love it.” He flipped a towel over his shoulder. “Did your run help?”

Jeremy scowled. “You’re an ass.” He faced Ethan, forgetting the dishes. “How long, exactly, were you going to wait before telling me you’ve decided to follow my every movement?”

Ethan nodded toward the faucet. “Maybe you should turn that off.”

Snarling, Jeremy did so. “Well?” he demanded, his anger increasing when he saw Ethan wasn’t flinching. Not that I’m trying to scare him, but he’s a less dominant wolf. He should cower before me. Jeremy cursed, hating himself for wanting Ethan submissive to his will. He whirled back to the sink and plunged his hands into the nearly scalding water. He seized a pan and a sponge and tried to take out his building fury on something inanimate. “You are a tracker, but that doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“Luis and I returned from Albion half an hour before dinner. Neither of us was in a position to hunt you.”

Jeremy thudded the still soapy but degreased pan into the second sink for Ethan to rinse. “Then how do you know I was running?”

“You smell of Queen Anne’s lace, a mix of wild grasses, and the exhaustion that comes from changing too quickly and too often from your human guise to that of the wolf.” Ethan rinsed off the pan and set it in the drainer. He did this with exquisite care. “Please don’t accuse me of treating a pack member like a rogue haint.”

Available at Amazon

 

 

New Release Tour: Pack Queen by Ann Mayburn #paranormalromance

My name is Synthia Rowley, and I still suck at saving the world.

I’m in a race against time, searching for my missing mates, my Enforcer and my Omega. Without them I won’t be able to form my Court and become a true Hyena Queen, giving me the power and protection I so desperately need to keep my friends and family safe.

Terrorism, wars, and brutal atrocities are on the rise across the globe. The world is becoming darker by the day as the veil between our reality and the chaos dimension fails, allowing abominations to cross over. Abominations filled with an endless hunger for human flesh and spirit. Now children have started to go missing in my hometown and the Goddess has tasked me with finding them.

If I’m their best hope, we’re all in serious trouble.

 

 

 

 

 

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